Lana:

I hide in my room most of Sunday morning, mortified at my behavior last night. I can talk a good game, but I’m usually smart enough not to follow through, but I don’t know what came over me yesterday. I can’t believe I kissed Blake.

And I can’t believe I didn’t kiss Declan.

After a couple of hours though, I start to get hungry. I missed breakfast since I wanted to avoid Declan and Blake, which meant I had to pass up on the cinnamon apple pancakes Marla was serving in the dining room. Sigh.

This is ridiculous, Lana. You can’t avoid them forever.

I can’t avoid them at all. Last night, I’d discovered that the guys are occupying the two rooms next to mine. I’m going to run into them sooner or later, and I just need to put on my big-girl panties and deal with it.

It was just one kiss, Lana. No biggie.

Getting dressed, I head out in search of sustenance. To my everlasting gratitude, I don’t run into the guys on my way out.

I walk down the main street, admiring the town. Goat is surprisingly charming. The main street has wrought iron lamps and colorful flower baskets overflowing with pink geraniums. The town’s really embraced their strange name. I pass an antique store named the Old Goat, a hairdresser named Goatee and a diner cleverly titled Goat Morning.

Diners have coffee. Score.

Pushing the front door open, I enter. There’s hardly anyone inside. “Sit anywhere, dear,” the woman behind the breakfast bar calls out. “I’ll bring you a menu in a second. You want coffee?”

“Yes please.”

I choose a spot by the window, and she brings me a large mug of coffee. “You’re staying at Marla’s, aren’t you?” she asks as she waits for me to scan the menu. “I heard you’re a writer.”

Small towns. The pace of life might be slower, but the gossip moves lightning quick. Of course, as a reporter, I’m counting on it. Time to start finding sources for my story. “I am,” I admit, looking up at her and smiling. “Unfortunately, I overslept this morning and missed the cinnamon apple pancakes.”

She laughs. “Well, I’m not competing with Marla, mind you, but we make a pretty good pecan-banana French toast here.”

Mmm. “Sign me up,” I say promptly.

The coffee is hot and strong, and the French toast is delicious. Two middle-aged women walk in while I devour my meal, one dressed in a bright green shirt that reminds me of Hailey’s outfit, and the other in a more discreet beige. They take their seats at the bar. For want of anything better to do, I idly listen in on their conversation. “I can’t believe her,” Beige-Woman hisses to my waitress. “I know they’ve been having problems, but still…”

“Are you sure she went to them?” The waitress shakes her head sadly. “That Lettie. She was always so impulsive.”

“Oh, she went to them all right,” Green-Shirt-Lady says grimly. “Rhonda told me. What I want to know is, does Michael know?”

“I hope not.” Beige-Woman shudders. “Can you imagine what would happen to the doctors if he found out his wife was visiting them? He’d be walking into their clinic with a sawed-off shotgun.”

“Don’t say that.” The woman behind the counter—who I’m calling French-Toast-Lady, for want of a better name—looks horrified.

My ears perk up. They’re talking about the two doctors I’m here to investigate, and it appears that not everyone in town adores the Clinic of Love. Good to know.

French-Toast-Lady must feel the weight of my gaze on her because she looks up. “More coffee, dear?” she asks. I shake my head before I have time to think, and then curse myself inwardly. My plate is empty. Had I asked for more coffee, I could have lingered and listened in on their conversation, but now, I have no excuses to stay.

Still, my morning hasn’t been in vain. That French toast was delicious.

I go for a walk after my meal, partly to work off the calories and partly to explore the neighborhood. The Clinic of Love is located down a side street, in a small, nondescript gray one-story building. There’s a very small sign on the door, but apart from that, the clinic is doing nothing to call attention to itself.

For obvious reasons.

I’m tempted to go inside and make an appointment, but I don’t need John’s voice in my head to tell me it’s a bad idea. I’m a stranger in town. I don’t want to set off any suspicions. For the next few days, I need to focus on blending in.

What are you going to do with yourself until then, Lana?

There is the Sex Bucket List. Not to mention my two ridiculously sexy hotel-mates.

Bad idea, sweetheart.

Work-Lana’s right. This is a nice, relaxing assignment. I might even embrace my cover story and write a book. Can cats solve crime? Time to do some research into cozy mysteries.

Of course, I get to do no such thing, because there’s an email from John waiting for me when I get back. “Our website is a bit thin on content,” he writes. “Since you’re in the area, can you do a story on the small towns in and around Mt. Hood? Art galleries, ice-cream shops, that kind of thing? I need five thousand words by Wednesday.”

I should have known. If I protest, John will remind me that I wanted to do fluff pieces, and he’ll ignore that I wanted to write lifestyle instead of investigative pieces, not in addition to.

So much for my relaxing assignment.

I don’t run into Blake and Declan until later that evening. Blake’s lounging on an outdoor sectional sofa, a bottle of beer in his hand, and Declan’s tending to something on the barbecue. Declan sees me first. “Lana,” he calls out, lifting his hand up in a wave. “Want to join us for dinner?”

Yes, please. And I’d like the two of you for dessert, if we’re wishing for things.

“No, that’s okay,” I reply. “I’ll get take-out or something.”

“Everything’s closed,” Blake says. “It’s Sunday night. The only options are pizza delivery or us.” He smiles warmly at me. “Come on, Lana. We don’t bite. We bought too much steak, and I assure you, Declan’s cooking is light-years better than Mama Rosso.”

I walk over and sit down a safe distance from Blake. “Is everything really closed?”

Declan chuckles. “Blake’s lying through his teeth,” he says. “Goat makes most of its money from tourism. People love the ridiculous store names and the billy-goat signs all through town. Most places will be open.” His expression turns serious. “I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable last night. That wasn’t our intention at all.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” I say, startled. “I mean, I guess you read my list, but after that, I seem to remember being the one who made the bet.”

His eyes twinkle. “Ah, yes, the bet.” He reaches for his back pocket, and I notice how snugly his jeans cup his ass. It’s one hell of a view. “Umm, Lana?” Those damn dimples are out again, and I notice, belatedly, that he’s totally caught me checking out his butt. He’s holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “You left this at the bar last night.”

Last night, I could blame the beer. Tonight? No such excuse.

“Are you conceding the bet?” I raise my eyebrow. “Wow, the two of you give up easy.”

Declan sets the bill down on the table and turns to me. His fingers caress the curve of my jaw, and everywhere he touches me, pinpricks of desire break out on my skin. “Are we playing this game, Lana?” he whispers, his expression maddeningly neutral. “Are you going to run away again?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I’ve never done anything like this before. My friend and I were just goofing off when we made that list.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “We don’t bite, Lana.” The sizzle of the steaks draws his attention. He moves his hand away and flips the meat. “There’s no pressure. How do you like your steak done?”

My heart is still hammering in my chest, and I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from his face. “Medium rare, please.”

“Beer?” Blake offers.

I shake my head to clear it. “I better not.”

“Suit yourself,” he says easily. “There’s lemonade in the refrigerator if you prefer.”

They seem to have free run of the bed-and-breakfast, including the kitchen. I’m a reporter; I’m always curious. It comes with the job. “You seem to be really friendly with Marla,” I remark. “Do you know her well?”

“Growing up, I spent all my summers here, and most Christmases too,” Blake replies readily. “I’ve known Marla all my life.” His lips twitch. “All it means is that she has no problems telling me off if I don’t clean up after myself.”

I think back on my life back home. Living out of a suitcase most of the time, killing my poor cactus, constantly running from one story to another. Life here seems so much simpler.

As we eat, I fight an inner battle. In one corner, there’s Sensible-Lana.

Facing up against her is I-Don’t-Remember-When-The-Last-Time-I-Saw-Some-Action-Lana. Since that’s quite a mouthful, I’m going to call her Horny-Lana for short.

Horny-Lana: Lick Declan’s dimples. Do it. He’s right there.

Sensible-Lana: Bad idea. He’s not going to appreciate being groped in the middle of his dinner.

Horny-Lana: Sure he will. He offered to help you with your list. They both did.

Sensible-Lana: Umm, okay. But a threesome’s way out of your comfort zone.

Horny-Lana: They’re really hot. Think about it. You know what’s better than one naked guy? Two naked guys.

Horny-Lana makes a very valid point. I know I’m being a bad, bad girl, but I don’t want to pick between them. I want both.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Declan interrupts my silent debate. He places his hand on my thigh, and I stop breathing as I absorb the look of intensity in his eyes.

The moment stretches between us. I hold his gaze in mine, and as the seconds tick on, certainty grows inside me. My desire overcomes my caution.

I’m going to do this.

I don’t know at what point both men realize my change of heart. I just know that at some point, the mood shifts from conversational to something else. Desire builds up in the air, swelling like a balloon that’s ready to burst, and when it does… I don’t know what will happen.

Blake moves closer to me. “Come here, Lana.” He pats his lap in invitation. He’s hard already, the outline of his cock visible underneath the linen shorts he’s wearing. My heart racing in my chest, I obey. His strong hands wrap around my waist, and he pulls me onto his thighs. I lean back against his muscular chest and close my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Blake brushes my hair aside and lowers his mouth to my neck. He nibbles at my throat, his teeth grazing at my skin, and I tremble, my arousal threatening to overwhelm me. “What about Marla,” I protest feebly, not wanting to be seen by the bed-and-breakfast owner.

“Marla’s not at home,” Declan replies. “Sunday night is bridge night. We won’t be interrupted.” He gets to his feet and looms over me. “Are we doing this, Lana?”

Oh, who am I kidding? Sensible-Lana shakes her head disapprovingly and stalks off in a huff, leaving Horny-Lana free to fulfill her naughty fantasies. “Yes,” I whisper.

A ghost of a smile passes over his face. He bends down, his face inches from mine. Up close, I can see each individual hair of the dark stubble that covers his chin, the green flecks in his hazel eyes. He’s got a small scar above his lip, maybe when he cut himself shaving.

I take a deep breath. I can feel the hard bar of Blake’s cock against my ass as I reach up and wrap one hand around Declan’s neck.

After all, I kissed Blake last night at the bar. It seems only fair to kiss Declan now.

Almost in slow motion, his mouth descends on mine. I close my eyes and part my lips, sighing as pleasure flutters through me. I’m glad I’m sitting on Blake’s lap; I don’t trust my knees to hold me up as Declan’s tongue sweeps over my lower lip and his fingers wind in my hair.

Breathing becomes difficult. My senses feel drugged with desire. My body is sandwiched between the two men. As Declan explores my mouth with slow, lingering intensity, Blake’s hands stroke the sides of my breasts.

This is actually happening.

My nipples harden under my thin cotton shirt. More. I want more than Blake’s teasing touch; I want to feel his hand on my bare skin. Without tearing my mouth away from Declan’s, I start unbuttoning my shirt.

Blake’s warm chuckle tickles my ear. “You’re in such a hurry, Lana.” His hands close over my wrists, and he holds them in his grip, firm and unrelenting. “We have all the time in the world for this.”

I half-expect Marla to walk in on us at any moment, but the suspense sends a wicked little thrill through me. Outdoor sex had been one of Hailey’s contributions to my list, and when she’d written it down, I remember asking her what the attraction was. “Sand everywhere,” I’d said. “Bugs crawling over me, grass scratching at my back, the risk of sunburn. Hailey, I’m not seeing the appeal.”

Now I do. The possibility of getting caught—no matter how slim—ups my arousal. I’m not just making out with one guy. I’m pressed between two hot men, kissing one, grinding my ass against the other, and if someone discovered me… Heat surges through me, and I can’t suppress my moan.

Declan pulls his lips away from me. He finishes unbuttoning my shirt. His fingers trace the outline of my aching nipples, and even though my bra’s in the way, my body liquefies at his touch, and warmth floods through me. “Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs.

Blake unclasps my bra and pulls my shirt free. I’m naked to my waist, exposed to their heated gazes, shivering at the raw need that grips me.

“So beautiful,” Blake whispers in my ear. “We’re going to make you come so hard that you won’t remember your own name.” His fingers move to my nipples, and he pinches them gently before pushing my globes together for Declan, who lowers his mouth to them.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. This is so wanton, so wicked. My hands curl into fists as Declan’s teeth graze my aching peaks, and my pussy clenches hard. It’s too much, but at the same time, it’s not enough at all. It’ll never be enough until I’m completely filled by their cocks, until they thrust deep inside me, both of them at once.

Horny-Lana has gone too long without satisfaction. Now, there’s no holding back.

Declan’s expression is heated as he gets on his knees between my legs. “Thank heavens for skirts,” he quips, as he pushes up my floral printed skirt and parts my legs.

“What are you doing?” I squeak out in surprise. Okay, that’s admittedly not the smartest thing I’ve ever said. It’s perfectly obvious what Declan’s planning on doing, but so far, every guy I’ve ever dated has treated going down on me as a ‘once-a-year Christmas-bonus’ kind of activity.

Declan’s lips quirk. “Blake got to cross one item off your list,” he explains. “I want my turn.” His fingers tug at my white-cotton panties—hey, I wasn’t thinking that I’d end up sandwiched between two guys when I got dressed this morning, okay?—and he tosses them on the grass. “Be a good girl and spread your legs for me, Lana,” he orders.

I’m fairly sure that what I’m doing falls under the textbook definition of ‘bad girl’ but I still part my legs for Declan, and he inhales sharply. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, grazing his knuckles against the folds of my pussy. I throw my head back on Blake’s shoulder as a shiver runs through me, and grind my ass against his hard cock.

Blake’s fingers tweak my nipples. “If you keep doing that,” he growls, “I’m going to embarrass myself by erupting in my pants. Sit still.”

“Or what?” I challenge Blake, but Declan’s stubble rasps against my inner thighs, and I can’t form words anymore.

Declan’s fingers trail a path up my slit, avoiding my throbbing, needy clitoris. My pussy weeps with desire as he pushes his forefinger inside. “So tight,” he breathes. Holding my gaze, he licks my juices off his finger. “So delicious.”

Blake squeezes my breasts. I squirm with heat as Declan teases my folds, slowly and softly, stroking me everywhere but my clitoris. I can’t help it; my legs close together instinctively as my body floods with sensation. It’s too much. They’ve barely touched me, and I’m quivering at the edge, my release hovering just out of reach.

“Oh no, Lana,” he says firmly, his hands on my knees, spreading them wide. “Keep them parted.”

His tongue flicks out, and he laps at my slit, a long, slow lick that ends with a quick circle of my clitoris. He breathes on my pussy, and goosebumps erupt all over my body.

“Oh God, yes,” I groan out loud, digging my fingers into Declan’s shoulders. He chuckles and repeats the movement, and this time, when he reaches my clitoris, he sucks it gently between his teeth.

While Declan dives into my pussy with obvious enjoyment, Blake rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, the rosy peaks swollen and sensitive. I gasp as my brain short-circuits in the face of overwhelming pleasure. It’s so good. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Someone’s making little mewling noises, and I’m startled to discover it’s me.

Declan adds two fingers, pushing them into my dripping pussy. His tongue keeps licking me, long, steady strokes that have me hurtling to the edge of climax. My muscles start to clench, and my nipples throb under Blake’s attention. “Please,” I beg, unsure what I’m begging for.

Then Declan does something completely unexpected. His thumb moves lower, circling my anus. “Naughty Lana,” he rasps, his voice muffled by my pussy, “You want a cock in your tight ass, baby? You want both of us at once?” His finger pushes into my puckered opening, and the sensation is so strange. A little weird, but mostly good.

“I believe Declan asked you a question.” Blake’s voice is teasing. “You want this, don’t you, Lana? You like the way his thumb feels in your ass?”

Yes. It’s so wrong, but it feels so naughty and good.

Declan’s tongue strums over my clitoris. His fingers thrust into my pussy, curving and twisting to press on my g-spot. At the same time, his thumb wriggles deeper in my ass.

The dam bursts. I gasp and writhe as my climax hits me with the force of a battering ram. For minutes, hours, days, I can’t think. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and my thoughts are hazy and unfocused.

Declan gets to his feet, a satisfied smirk on his face. I blink to clear the fog in my brain and slide off Blake’s lap. “I should return the favor,” I mutter, my cheeks flushed.

Blake wraps his arm around my waist. “I never put out until the third date,” he quips.

Oh God. Are they judging me?

Declan takes in my expression. “That came out wrong,” he says immediately. “I’d like to see you again. I think Blake does too. Will you have dinner with us? We’re due at Elvira’s tomorrow, but we’re free Tuesday and Wednesday.”

I’m about to accept when I remember John’s assignment. “I can’t,” I say regretfully. “I’m going to be swamped the next two days. I’m free after Wednesday though.”

Declan frowns. “Shit. We’re busy every evening after that until Monday, but I don’t want to wait until then. How about Friday during the day? We can pack a picnic and have lunch near the hot springs in the area?”

“That sounds amazing.” I blink at him demurely. “But I thought we already crossed off outdoor sex from my list.”

Blake throws his head back and laughs. A smile creases Declan’s face. “We haven’t had sex,” he says. “Oral doesn’t count.”

Blake winks at me. “Don’t worry about your list, Lana,” he says lazily. “I promise we’ll check off another item on Friday.”

“Just one?” I’m so greedy.

He shakes his head indulgently. “What’s your hurry, Lana?” he asks. “We have at least a month to work through your list. Enjoy the journey.”

I grin back at them. Sensible-Lana makes a reappearance and reminds me that I don’t know anything about these two men that I’m about to jump into bed with, but I dismiss her doleful warnings. It’s just a vacation fling.