Voyeur (25 page)

Tommy peered around his screen again. "What's that?"

"You can do anything with her, anything she wants. But just don't kiss her. On the mouth, I mean."

Tommy blinked, clearly surprised. "Why? What’s it matter?"

Braden’s chest tightened slightly. He didn’t have an answer, only knew he felt strongly about it. "Just don’t."

An hour before Braden was set to return with Tommy, Laura finished her work and headed upstairs to shower. As she ran the soap over her body,

she couldn’t help thinking of the ultrasensual bathing she'd shared with Braden. She'd been in a state of semiarousal al afternoon—ever since he'd

kissed her on the couch and gotten her so hot, then left without taking it further. Now, her nipples remained sensitive and erect, and her pussy

tingled with want.

Biting her lip with a thought toward the evening, she reached for the shaving cream stil on the shower bench and, sitting down there, shaved her

legs and the sensitive mound between. Like before, each gentle stroke of the razor blazed a trail of fire over the aching flesh, getting her hotter stil .

Was she preparing for a ménage a trois? She pul ed in her breath, stil
unsure. She only knew she wanted to make of herself what Braden had

made of her prior to this: a whol y sexual being. She
wanted
to be aroused. And she wanted her body to be smooth and soft and clean, and her

pussy boldly on display, for
whatever
happened later, be it with one man ... or two.

After, she stroked her fingertips between her parted legs to make sure she felt smooth to the touch. Smooth, wet, and slick.

Knowing what she would feel like to Braden—or anyone else—amped up her excitement further.

Only when she exited the shower, letting her towel drop to the floor to walk through the room naked, did she notice the pretty little shopping bag on

the bed, pink and shiny. As she approached, she also spied a card bearing her name.

Hurriedly, she opened it and read the smal , precise script inside.

Snowflake—

J bought this for yon before J came and just hadn’t found the right time to give it to yon. I've 6een
more concerned, with getting yon out of

your clothes than getting yon into sexy ones J.
J thought tonight appropriate – that is, if yon decide yon want that ultimate pleasure J promised. No pressure, though. J want to give it to yon more than J want to breathe – but yon have to want it, too, just as much as J do. J hope you're wearing this when J come home –but if not, J understand.

Braden

Her heart pumping fast, she reached in the bag. Nestled in pale pink tissue paper she found an ensemble of champagne-colored lace: a demi-bra,

a pretty cami with triangular, curving cups, and a sexy thong. She remembered a time when he'd asked her for her bra size, and she supposed this

was why. Only then, she'd imagined him having more items
delivered
—she couldn't have conceived of him coming here and turning her sexual

world upside down.

Without hesitation, she stepped into the lacy undies, which sported a little bow in back where the tiny strips of fabric met, then put on the bra and

walked to the mirrored doors of the closet. They fit perfectly and felt expensive. She had to let out a heavy breath just looking at herself—the rise of her breasts from the bra that barely concealed her nipples, the slope of the panties hugging her cunt.

Returning to the bed, she slid the cami on over the bra. Both were necessary if she real y intended to don the cami as "outerwear"—its cups offered no support, and she wanted her chest to look pert and firm, wanted the curves to swel sexily above.

Which begged the question—was she real y wearing this? Tonight? To dinner?

She bit her lip as she studied herself in the mirror again, then reached for the jeans she'd worn last night. She would have liked some strappy shoes

to complete the outfit, but overal , the jeans and cami alone made for a sexy, confident look.

A look which, if it were summer, she would actual y wear on a date or out with friends. But if Braden and Tommy showed up to find her in this, with

snow outside, when only last night she'd worn a sweater and snowflake socks to dinner—it would make a statement. For Laura, it would say
Fuck

me
as clearly as fishnet stockings and stiletto heels said it for Candy next door. They would come in, they would see her, and they would know what she wanted.

The question was: Did she? Could she? The answer didn't seem much clearer than it had earlier today.

Unless you considered That she stood here dressed for after-dinner sex when she knew her lover and his friend were due to arrive within the hour.

Unless you considered the way her pussy burned right now, and the sense that her breasts felt bigger than usual, aching to burst free from the

champagne lace that held them.

Unless you considered that the very darkest part of her wondered what it would feel like, wanted to know, wanted to experience it, wanted to throw

al caution to the wind for the first time in her life.

That's when she heard the door open below. Damn, they were early.

"Laura, honey, we're home. Are you upstairs?"

She rushed to the doorway and out onto the little bridge that overlooked the foyer. "Just on my way downstairs right now."

And the next thing she knew, she stood before both men, smel ing the cold they'd brought in and watching them stomp the snow off their shoes, then

seeing them peer up at her . . . and smile.

Braden's look was particularly knowing, and particularly heated, as his gaze took in her top before rising to her eyes. "You look great tonight, baby,"

he said lifting one hand to her cheek as he leaned in to deliver a short, slightly chil ed kiss.

But Laura didn’t feel the cold—only the heat, the slow fire that had just ignited in the room between the three of them. "Thanks," she said trying to disguise a last somewhat nervous swal ow. Then she turned to Tommy, ready to be bold, ready to show Braden she could be as adventurous as he

wanted her to be. "I'm glad you could join us again tonight."

Tommy leaned in to kiss her cheek, his hand curling warm at her waist, and the simple contact sent a soft frisson of arousal echoing through her.

"My pleasure," he said, and Laura forced herself to meet his blue eyes, just to see what she found there. Nothing smarmy or presumptuous but a tinge of sensual awareness That she couldn’t deny. As she turned for the kitchen, her nipples rubbed against her bra.

So was it true? Had she decided she was real y going to indulge in this wildest of fantasies? As usual, the very question sent a heavy breath

whooshing
from her, so she decided to cut herself a break and not force herself to answer. Instead, she pul ed a bottle of wine from the fridge, since a glass of Chardonnay sounded welcome right now.

"Ready to put the steaks on the gril ?" Braden asked—and from there, things turned amazingly easy. Since, after al , they were just three normal people having dinner. Sort of.

Braden and Tommy fired up the gril , putting on the steaks and potatoes, while Laura tossed the salad, then set the table. She turned on music,

something low and soft in the background.

When they sat down to their salads, Laura chose the chair at the head of the table. Only when Tommy sat on one side of her and Braden on the

other did she realize perhaps it had been a subconscious effort to put herself between the two men, to begin to get used to that, see how it felt—

even if only in some smal way.

And though conversation was easy—the guys tel ing her about the new computer games they'd tested today—everything inside Laura began to

heat up, to swel with an inescapable and potent sexual consciousness. She wasn’t sure if it was just her body, wound up from h thoughts through

the day, or if it was more palpable than that, something they
all
could feel passing between them, hovering in the air—but a whole new element of sensuality pervaded her being. Everything she touched, she felt more. Everything she ate delivered more taste than ever before.

She found herself forking an entire cherry tomato into her mouth letting her tongue run over its smooth skin as she luxuriated in its very roundness,

until final y she bit into it and let the tangy flavor burst across her taste buds, wet and cool. She washed it down with a swil of wine, welcoming the fruity warmth as it passed into her throat, then lowered the glass back to the table, where her fingertips slid slowly and down the stem.

When Braden went to check on the steaks, Laura emptied her glass and watched as Tommy reached to refil it.

"Braden tel s me you had a rough breakup not long ago." She wasn’t sure it was the right topic, but it had just popped out—with a little help from the wine. She liked knowing he was a guy with feelings, a guy who could take a relationship seriously—maybe more seriously than Braden, for al she

knew.

He nodded, took a sip from his own glass. "Yeah. But it was my own fault," he admitted with an endearingly devilish glint in his eye. "Did he tel you
that?"

She shook her head.

"I cheated on her," he said, then held up his hands as if in defense. "Don’t let that make you think I'm a lousy guy, though—because believe me, I regret it. It was a stupid thing to do and I've learned my lesson."

She tilted her head, intrigued. "Why does a guy do that? Cheat on a girl he cares for?"

He grinned. "Easy sex?"

She laughed softly, despite herself.

"Seriously, the temptation was there and I took it—but I
real y don’t know why. Now I think maybe I just wasn’t comfortable knowing I was getting in so deep with Marianne. Maybe I wanted to sabotage it—or at least prove to myself That she didn’t matter as much as I was afraid she did."

"And?"

A grin of admission. "She mattered as much as I was afraid she did. And now I wish I hadn’t been afraid."

She tried to reconcile this guy with the one who had three-ways with ski bunnies—and realized it wasn’t that easy to peg a person, to lump him into

a category. She'd learned in her own way recently That she herself possessed a lot of different sides, varying and sometimes
conflicting
parts of her personality. She supposed everyone did, whether or not they chose to let it show.

She found herself reaching out to touch his hand on the table.

“I’m sorry it worked out that way." Heat flew up her arm and her pussy flooded at the simple gesture. Yet it wasn't just her general attraction to Tommy causing it—it was knowing what they might do together later, with Braden, and it was knowing Tommy knew it, too.

Their eyes met, and her nipples tingled. "I think I'm starting to get over it," he said, his voice delivering a playful hint of flirtation.

She smiled but drew her hand back as one French door opened, admitting Braden with a platter of stil -sizzling steaks and foil-covered potatoes.

"Although I gotta admit, I stil miss her sometimes."

"Who's that?" Braden asked, lowering the platter to the table.

"Marianne."

"Ah. The famous lost love."

Laura couldn’t help thinking Braden sounded less than sympathetic, even though he'd sounded more so when he'd first mentioned the breakup to

her. A guy thing, she supposed.

As they al began reaching for steaks, she said to Tommy, "A breakup can be so hard." Although she was actual y thinking ahead, to how she would feel when she left Braden, more than thinking back to any particular past pain. "You just miss so many little things about the person. And big things, too."

"I miss the sex," Tommy said, and his unexpected bluntness made her laugh.

Braden high-fived his buddy across the table, but afterward Tommy said to Laura, "Not just because I'm a sex hound, though. It was pretty special with her." He sliced into a baked potato, then took a large sip of wine. "She had this little place on her neck," he said, pointing to his own. "And when I kissed her there, she just went
wild!'

"Neck kisses
are
fabulous," Laura agreed. As she'd noticed last night, talking about sex with him seemed easier than it would with most guys she'd just met. Then she looked to Braden, who was swirling the wine in his glass as he cast a sexy grin. "When Braden kisses my neck, it goes al

through me."

"You like it even better when I kiss you lower," Braden pointed out, his voice deeper than before.

The usual heat ascended her cheeks, but she stil gave him a smile and let the wine wash away her inhibitions, as it had so many times. "You have a skil ed mouth."

"You do, too, honey."

She found herself licking her upper lip in response, simply needing to
feel
something there, some sensation at her mouth. She cut into her steak and as she ate, like before, it tasted richer, juicier, her potato more buttery. She could barely make sense of it, but everything she put her mouth felt like a tiny aphrodisiac. Even the fork and knife in her hands felt heavier, and it was sensual just to hold them, wrap her fingers about them.

At some point she realized her knees were touching both guys' knees under the table to either side of her—and That she wasn't pul ing them back,

and neither were they. Tommy asked Braden how his family was, and Braden turned the topic to Laura's career, yet beneath the table something

entirely different took place. Her pussy rippled with excitement, nervous anticipation—but she found herself getting
less
nervous and
more
anxious with each passing minute.

For dessert, Braden unveiled a plate of sinful-looking frosted brownies.

"Where did
those
come from?" Laura asked. She'd have certainly honed in on such treats if they'd been here for long.

"Made them this morning while you were working."

She'd heard him in the kitchen for awhile but must have been completely absorbed in her story not to have smel ed them. She blinked playful y.