Nina:

“You play a game with us.”

Zane says those words and the present dissolves, and I’m in Boston again, seeing Zane Marshall and Scott Leyland for the very first time.

It’s late, and the bar I’m working at is dead. It’s another terrible night for tips, and I’m not sure how I’m going to pay rent this month, but I’m too numb to care. I’m twenty-three, and I’m used to struggling to survive.

I’m almost about to close for the night when I feel the weight of someone’s gaze on me. Looking up, I see Zane and Scott for the very first time. Two tall men, both with dark hair, one bearded and one clean-shaven, and they’re both looking at me as if I’m a tasty treat and they haven’t eaten for days.

I work in a bar. I’m used to preying gazes; I’m wearily accustomed to men undressing me with their eyes. This time, I’m not repulsed.

I’m intrigued.

They come in, and they take seats at the bar, and we start talking, but I don’t remember a word of the conversation. No, the memory that sticks with me is the way I felt. Sparkly and alive, every nerve in my body on edge, hoping they’d make a move.

Then Scott suggests I close the bar for the night and draw the shutters over the windows. “Nina,” he says, his voice unexpectedly serious, “Play a game with us.”

“What are the rules?” I ask. At that point, it’s clear that they are both interested in me, and that somehow, in their world, this isn’t a problem. Part of me is shocked by this, but a deeper, wilder part of me is turned on. The idea of them sharing me is hot as hell.

“Rules?” Zane’s lips quirk into a smile. “The first rule, Nina, is that we make our own rules.”

My throat dry, I flip the sign on the door to Closed with indecent speed. I lower the blinds, and I walk back to them, adding a swing to my hips. “And the second rule?” I prompt.

Scott’s sky-blue eyes linger over my face. His expression is intense, even faintly troubled. “During the game,” he says, “everyone speaks the truth.”

My heart stutters at that.

“That’s a high-stakes game,” I reply. I’m trying to sound flippant, but my voice comes out shaky. “The truth is a dangerous thing.”

“It is a high-stakes game,” Scott agrees. “The only kind worth playing. Interested?”

I throw caution to the wind. “Yes.”

“Good.” His eyes fill with heat. “Take off your panties, sugar, and give them to me.”

I look at them with wide eyes. I’m twenty-three, and I’m not a virgin, but I’m still shocked by his words. Compared to the two of them, I feel very sheltered and inexperienced. “Here?”

As reply, Zane holds out his hand.

My body fills with heat. “I’ve only just met you.”

Scott’s eyes bore into me. “Remember the second rule, Nina,” he says. “No lies. Do you want to have sex with us tonight, Nina, or do you want us to leave?”

No lies, they say, as if that were easy, as if I don’t need to stay within my hard, flippant shell to protect myself. No lies, they say, looking at me with raw, naked heat, making me forget all the reasons this is a bad idea.

With shaking hands, I reach for my panties, stepping out of them from under my skirt. My face is hot, my breasts feel heavy, and liquid desire fills my core.

“Good girl,” Zane says approvingly. He tucks the scrap of fabric in his pocket, and my cheeks heat up. I’ve just given a total stranger my underwear. I’m a bad, bad girl.

“This doesn’t seem fair.” Scott’s voice is serious, but his eyes twinkle with amusement. “Zane gets a souvenir, and I don’t?”

My lips twitch involuntarily. “You’re right,” I say solemnly. “Are you going to fight him for my panties?”

He chuckles. “I have a better idea,” he replies. “Take off your bra, honey.”

Part of me wonders if the terms of endearment—honey, sugar—are because they can’t remember my name. Of course, it is, Nina, I tell myself bluntly. They’re musicians in a band. Even I’ve heard of Evolving Whistle. One of the three girls I live with in my Jamaica Plain studio plays their music all the time. They must have a thousand women throwing themselves at them. What do you expect?

“Nina.” Scott raises an eyebrow. “Am I going to have to repeat myself?”

Okay, maybe they do know my name after all. “Sorry,” I tell Scott, my face breaking out into a smile. I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, then I push down the shoulder straps and pull it out through my t-shirt.

Scott’s lips twitch at my modesty. “You know your top’s going to be off at some point this evening, don’t you?”

Well, duh. I’m not a complete moron. “I’m following directions,” I reply pertly. “You asked for my bra, I took it off and gave it to you.”

“Ah, that’s how we’re playing it, are we?” Zane moves closer to me, like a predator seeking prey. My nipples swell into hard pebbles, pushing against my bright pink t-shirt. “Tell me, Nina, are you going to obey all our orders?”

I answer his question with one of my own. “Are you always so bossy?”

Scott surveys me from head to toe, his gaze brushing slowly across my body, making me feel needy and prickly and aroused. “Does it bother you?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine.

Zane moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back against his hard chest. My pulse kicks up a notch, and a fresh gush of heat fills my core. “Remember the second rule,” he whispers in my ear.

“The second rule seems designed to embarrass me,” I mutter, my voice sulky. “I don’t think I like it.”

They laugh softly. “Tell us, Nina,” Scott urges. “Does our bossiness bother you?”

Oh hell. In for a penny, in for a pound. “No,” I whisper. “I think it should, but it doesn’t.”

“Rule one, sugar, is that we make the rules,” Scott says. “Just the three of us. There are no shoulds in this room. The world doesn’t get a say in our personal lives.”

Maybe it doesn’t if you’re a rock star. For one night, I want to live life in their world, a world in which they don’t let other people’s opinions sway what they do.

Zane takes a step back, and another, tugging me along. He presses me against the back wall of the bar. “What should we do with you, Nina?” he asks, his voice contemplative.

Scott goes behind the counter, and I feel a stab of alarm. “Hey,” I call out to him, “I’ll get in trouble if you drink the booze. My boss will take it out of my paycheck.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to drink your booze, honey,” he replies. “I want to feast on your body.”

He grabs something from the bar, but I can’t see what he takes. Zane, on the other hand, seems to know exactly what’s going on. “Good idea,” he says approvingly. “Hand me one, will you?”

It’s an ice cube. Well, two ice cubes. Zane holds one in his hand, as does Scott. My eyes must go round with surprise because Scott looks bemused. “You have no idea what we’re going to do with these, do you?”

I have a clue or two, but I’m sure they’re going to find ways to broaden my education. “Not really,” I admit.

“We’re going to corrupt you, sugar,” Zane grinds out. “In all kinds of ways. Tell me the truth, Nina. Do you want to run away?”

Hell yes. But also, no, and my need is stronger than my nerves. “No.” I lift my chin up and stare them in the eye. “I want to play.”

They’d made me come that day. Zane had knelt in front of me, and he’d trailed the ice cube up my legs, and everywhere the cold hit, his warm mouth followed. The cube had inched closer and closer to my pussy, and while Zane teased me, Scott’s mouth closed over mine in an intense kiss that seared me and possessed me and engulfed me.

Afterward, while my muscles still shuddered from the intensity of the orgasm that Zane’s talented mouth had caused, Scott had held out his hand to me. “We’re not going to fuck you in this bar, Nina,” he’d said. “As tempting as it is to bend you over this counter and sink my dick into your soft pussy, I’m not going to do that. I want to do this properly. Will you come back to our hotel?”

Let’s face it. I’ve never been able to say no to Zane and Scott.

I go through the rest of my day on autopilot. I work the bar at the Merry Cockatoo Tuesday night, my pulse speeding up every single time a man with dark hair walks in. I count my earnings at the end of the night, and then I wipe down the counters and make sure the bar is spotlessly clean. I take out the trash to the dumpster in the rear of the building, shivering at the chill in the air, then I head back home.

You’re crazy, Nina, I tell myself as I brush my teeth. You should have called their bluff. Scott isn’t going to buy your building. He was just trying to get a rise out of you.

But I can’t risk it. If they stick around in New Summit, I’ll have to leave. No matter how scathing my father will be about my inability to honor my commitments, I can’t stay. I can’t work at the bar and watch them leave with women they pick up at the Merry Cockatoo. I’m not that strong.

The first few months with Zane and Scott had been great. I’d traveled with them. In their arms, I’d felt safe and secure, and for the first time since my mother died and my father remarried, I felt a sense of belonging.

But after the first year, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was nothing more than Scott and Zane’s girlfriend. They were living their dreams, but I’d forgotten what it felt like to have goals of my own. I was drifting from city to city with them, and I judged myself for my lack of ambition.

A couple of times, I tried to talk to them half-heartedly about the future, but the conversation never went anywhere. Zane wanted to protect me and take care of me, and Scott refused to have emotional conversations. I knew they loved me in their own way, but it wasn’t enough.

Now they’re back in New Summit, and I’ve agreed to spend five nights with them.

I toss and turn in bed. I’m awake for the longest time, but I fall asleep eventually. In my dreams, I’m running away from a dark, looming threat, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot escape.