“Get off,” I squeaked. Shoving at the giant male squashing me, Pete regained enough of his wits—not many due to the lack of blood to his brain—to roll off me.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

My reply? A giggle. I’d never had a man collapse atop me before so obviously spent and sexually sated. I almost beat my chest caveman style, but I had more class than that. I smirked instead.

As I lay there panting and recovering, for the second time in as many days, a horrifying realization struck me. I’d done it again. “You forgot to put on a condom!”

“I’m clean. Lycans don’t carry STDs.”

“But you can make babies,” I snapped. Never mind my birth control, it annoyed me to realize that he’d frazzled me enough to make me forget. Again.

“Speaking of which, how many would you like?”

Good thing I was lying down already, else I might have fallen.

Please tell me he’s joking.

I propped myself up to peek at him and caught the big grin on his face. Mini heart attack averted, I frowned. “That was not funny.”

“Sorry. I guess you didn’t know my kind can tell when a woman is on the pill. Your scent is different.”

Disturbing and reassuring at the same time. “Has anyone ever told you that the whole smell thing is freaky? I mean, now you’ve got me paranoid about stinking.”

“We don’t perceive odors the same way humans do. To us, they are a unique mark of a person.”

“Or a sign they haven’t bathed.”

He laughed. “Think of your scent as a fingerprint. Bathed or not, perfumed, sweaty, it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s scent is different. Some, I’ll admit, are more appealing than others. Like yours, for instance.”

“I smell good?”

“Better than good. From the first moment I got a whiff, I’ve wanted to taste you.”

“So I’m the equivalent of a freshly baked cookie to you?”

“Yummier.”

As compliments went, I could live with it. “Since you’re on the topic, what else should I know about Lycans? You won’t bite me, will you, and mark me as your bitch?”

“No,” he said with a snort. “Nor will you turn into a wolf or catch a disease or anything else the crazy media has mistakenly mentioned over the years. Lycans are born, not made.”

“Good to know. And other than the whole furry thing and smelling, what other special powers do you have?”

“We recuperate quickly.” He rolled until he caged my body, his upper arms holding him over me, the hard head of his prick poking.

Lucky for me, it turned out, when it came to sex with the right guy, I could go again too.

---

The warm sunlight bathing my face woke me and I stretched under my sheets, my muscles pleasantly sore. Again.

Fuck!

In vivid detail, I remembered the events of the night before. The passion. The wild sex. The out-of-this-world orgasms. And with a werewolf of all things.

What the hell was happening to me? First Anthony. Then Pete. Who would I screw next? An itty-bitty fairy? The mailman?

Forget Godzilla destroying the city. Here comes Chloe on an uncontrollable nympho rampage. Put in your earplugs, tie down the breakables because my screaming orgasms are a force to be reckoned with. Also very addictive.

I finally understood why some people craved sex so much. With the right person, or people, it was freaking amazing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d climaxed before. I had plenty of experience, but the sex with Anthony and Pete… It blew those experiences away.

We were talking the hurricane of orgasms instead of a gentle spring shower. Just thinking about the things they did to my body and how I’d responded, a wild woman with no inhibitions.

Surely that wasn’t a twinge of lust. Surely my pussy didn’t need more attention? Greedy thing. I would have slapped it if I didn’t think it would enjoy it so much.

Despite all the sex, I wanted more. I might have even begged for it had I woken beside my newest lover. Fuck me. My second lover in two days. I am such a slut.

At least I didn’t have to face my newest furry embarrassment. Like Anthony, Pete seemed to have vanished in the night. Whether or not he’d return, like a dog with a stick, remained to be seen.

I’d certainly never expected Mr. Hotshot DA to come back for seconds. Given that unexpected twist, I no longer wanted to wager the same on Pete, although, I could probably safely bet that Anthony wouldn’t come sniffing around anymore now that Pete staked his claim.

But only if Anthony finds out.

What was I thinking? I didn’t want one man in my life, let alone two. However, I couldn’t deny I’d never felt more sexually satisfied. And, hey, the law did say women should do their part to keep the male population content. Of course, they meant by marrying them and popping out babies. I didn’t intend to go that far, but at least by fucking them, I was practicing the whole procreation bit. Some could even say I studied hard.

Damn, I’d have to remember to tell that to Brenda later when she bugged me. I bet she’d find that outrageously funny. I know I did.

Enough of that. Time to greet the day. Or late morning at least, judging by the light flooding my room. I flung the sheets back, the air of my room kissing my naked body and raising bumps on my skin.

“Well, good morning to me,” a husky voice said.

Yeah, I screamed like a little girl. Or a woman who just about pissed herself as Pete’s voice rumbled from the doorway to my room.

It appeared as if I’d erred in thinking he’d left because there he leaned against the doorjamb, a pair of steaming mugs in hand, wearing only a pair of boxers. Low-hanging, thigh-hugging, erection-clinging boxers. I was pretty sure the shudder that went through my pussy was a mini orgasm. No man should ever look that hot in the morning.

“What are you doing?” I blurted out.

“Other than admiring the view? Bringing you coffee. I wasn’t sure how you liked it, though, so it’s black. Do you want me to add some cream and sugar?”

I already had enough cream pooling between my thighs, thank you very much. As for sugar, my mouth watered for something a little more tart and meaty. I really needed to do something about the nympho thing I had going on. It just wasn’t natural for me to lust like a bitch in heat. Great, now I couldn’t help but picture myself on my hands and knees getting it from Pete as he howled.

First thing Monday, I needed to make an appointment with my doctor for a lobotomy. Or at least hit the pharmacy for some of that cream that numbed gums, anything to deaden the tingles down below. “Black is fine.”

I held out my hand and curled my fingers around the heated ceramic, ducking my head as I took a sip instead of meeting his amused gaze. I tried to lounge casually, acting as if posing naked on my bed was a daily occurrence. It wasn’t, but yanking up the covers now, after he’d already seen all my goods—as well as licked them—seemed kind of moot.

“So what do you want to do today?” Pete asked.

Do? As in together? I choked on the strong java, spewing dark liquid over my white Egyptian sheets. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Where would I find another set of them on sale? Because bleach was not something I used, ever, not since the incident. We’d leave it at it had taken me several paychecks to replace my wardrobe.

“It’s Sunday. I, um, usually have brunch with Brenda.” Would he take the hint and make his way home like a good boy—wagging his tail behind him?

I needed alone time to gather my wits and slap myself back to sanity.

“Sounds good. What time?”

“Soon.” The sooner the better before I caved to temptation and mauled him.

“I probably shouldn’t go wearing last night’s clothes.” He grinned at me. “We wouldn’t want to give Brenda the wrong impression.” He winked.

I winced. Way to remind me of my new sexual deviance. At least this time I’d not ruined his outfit, although it wasn’t because I’d not wanted to. His clothes had almost gone the same route as poor Anthony’s. And if he kept tempting me with those sexy boxers, he might end up leaving commando.

Here comes nympho Chloe, slut extraordinaire, destroyer of garments and champion stainer of difficult-to-find bargain sheets. If this kept up, I’d need an emergency fund to replace the goods I kept damaging. Or, at the very least, have a new rule for guys I brought home intending to fuck—please disrobe before entering my apartment or I won’t be held liable for damage.

I almost snickered at the thought. Then couldn’t help picturing it. My across the hall neighbor, Mrs. Goudry, would get such a thrill if she peeked out her spyhole and saw a parade of men—or at least two—stripping down naked before entering my place.

“Tell you what, baby. Why don’t you shower and get dressed while I pop out and grab a fresh set of clothes?”

More commandments? I should have told him where to go. I’d shower and dress, if and when I wanted, thank you very much. The fact I planned to do so the minute he left had nothing to do with his instructions and more with the fact I needed to wash the scent of sex off my skin before I tracked it all over my apartment. Instead, I just said, “Okay.”

“I’ve programmed my number into your cell, so if you need me, just call.”

Presumptuous didn’t come close to describing his actions and I would have told him so in no uncertain terms had he not taken that moment to approach me with a ripple of muscle that hypnotized me. I could only stare as he bent over and grabbed his discarded clothes.

He yanked up his jeans first, hiding his tool of pleasure. Sniff. I almost waved goodbye. Then on went his shirt, covering his male perfection. Next time, I’d have to work harder at destroying it so he’d have to go around shirtless.

Next time? Great. I already planned seconds. Hmm. Maybe thirds.

Finished dressing, Pete faced me. Seemed it was my turn for a little attention.

“Damn but I wish we could spend the morning in bed,” he growled. Well, at least that made two of us. His ardent gaze swept over my nude form and I’ll admit I preened, arching my back to push out my tits and tilting my hips in invitation. Might as well act the wanton slut all the way.

He dove on me, ravaging me with his mouth, his hands roaming my body.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“Any chance we can call Brenda and postpone brunch?”

Way to bring me back to reality. “No,” I panted. BFFs did not blow off their Sunday morning rituals for sex.

Okay, not entirely true because my main reason for not blowing off brunch for sex was because my tummy needed fuel and MJ’s served the best breakfast in town, or the best I could afford on my paycheck.

“We can’t cancel.” Look at me. Finally saying no.

Unfortunately, he listened.

A last heart-stopping kiss, a suck of my nipple, which left me gasping and writhing, a naughty wink, and away Pete went.

But he’d return.

I couldn’t decide if the idea excited me, angered me, or frightened me. Whether I was ready or not, Pete the werewolf appeared determined to date me. Or fuck me. Or something.

I’d yet to figure out which category he fell in, but I should probably ask. Then I could lay some ground rules. Like no leaving me horny in the morning.

Seriously. What man kissed a woman breathless, teased a nipple, and then left before satisfying a throbbing pussy? It was wrong. Just plain wrong. I wanted to whimper with the injustice of it.

I should teach him a lesson by masturbating. Yeah. Take care of my own sexual needs. I didn’t need a man to orgasm. But I did need one, apparently, if I wanted an earth-shattering one.

Sigh. Hard to settle for a little O when you knew with a little patience you could get the big one. Gulping the rest of my now cold coffee down, I hopped out of bed and glanced at the clock. I had just over an hour to get ready for brunch. It occurred to me to warn Brenda we’d have company, but given her humor at my expense the previous night at dinner, I thought screw it. I’d show up with my werewolf lover and, if I was lucky, she’d choke on her mimosa or spit it down the front of her shirt. Entertainment either way.

As I showered, I couldn’t help replay events from the dinner, and despite the night spent with Pete and the planned morning with him, my mind kept straying to Anthony. Sure, he’d implied he’d call me again. That he wanted me despite his rivalry with another man. But that had been before I slept with Pete. Would he still want to pursue me if he found out? And if he did show up or call, would I tell him?

It seemed dishonest not to. So let’s assume I did tell Anthony—I slept with a werewolf—and he didn’t have a hissy fit and storm out. Then what? Could I seriously handle having two lovers? Could they?

The new laws encouraging threesomes didn’t mean men easily accepted them. Jealousy thrived, as did psychiatric practices, especially those specializing in couples counseling. Balancing the needs and emotions of a pair of people was difficult; add in a third person and it turned into a very fine balancing act. Many failed. It took a solid friendship to handle sharing.

My parents were a good example of when it could work. Brenda’s forays into threesomeville, on the other hand, were a handbook on how it could go wrong. She kept the restraining orders framed on her wall as a reminder.

But why the hell was I even thinking of them in terms of three? One man was too many for me to handle right now. Two? Not in the cards. Who to choose, though? Seeing as how I’d not tried harder to ditch Pete, I was pretty sure I’d made my choice on the winner. I think. Or did I want Anthony? No, it had to be Pete. I worked with, well technically against, Anthony. Work and play didn’t mix.

There. Decision done. I would keep Pete as my fuck friend. Nothing more.

Soaping, rinsing, shaving, and not just the legs, I erased the previous night from my skin while carefully avoiding rubbing too intently. My pussy was already swollen and sensitive enough without me compounding the problem.

I’d just wrapped a towel around my hair and another around my body when the knock came at my door. It seemed my wolf had returned already.

I didn’t bother to peek through the hole before opening. Dumb. I know. City girls should always do things with an eye on safety, but then again, I didn’t expect Anthony to come striding in holding a Starbucks coffee and a paper bag.

“Morning,” he said. He took in my attire—towel, wet skin, and slightly dazed expression—and smiled. “A very good morning.”

A spurt of pleasure shot through me. He came back!

Keep the judgments and speeches for someone else. Right or wrong, I couldn’t help my happiness at seeing him, the heat in my crotch, or my increased pulse rate. I also couldn’t stop myself from stupidly saying, “What are you doing here?”

“I felt bad about how the evening ended. So I brought amends.” Apparently, he didn’t mean the coffee or treat in the bag.

Only once his lips pressed against mine did it occur to me to protest. Occurred but didn’t happen, as he once again melted my resistance, wiped away my reasoning, and made me reevaluate my decision to give him the brush off.

When he let me up for air, because he had to set his offerings down so he could make a proper grab for me, sanity reasserted itself.

I darted out of reach with a squeaked, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” He opened his mouth to say more then stopped. I think he sniffed, hard to tell because he’d partially turned away from me to face the bedroom. His entire body went rigid, and damn it all, if I didn’t know he’d guessed who spent the night.

Forget the regular hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar embarrassment. It didn’t compare to pussy-caught-on-another-dick one. I blushed beet red when he faced me to say, “I see you didn’t spend the night alone.”

“I—um—that is…” Hold on one second. Why was I embarrassed or even thinking of apologizing? I’d made no promises to this guy. Hell, we weren’t even dating. We’d fucked—once.

He’d invited himself to dinner.

He showed up with Starbucks—my favorite.

But those things didn’t mean he owned me. Didn’t make us exclusive. We were nothing to each other. Nothing except extremely compatible in the bedroom.

Chin up, I found my tits and my pride. “Pete spent the night.” There. I’d said it. Take it or leave it. I refused to hide or pretend. Nor did I feel the need to excuse myself. Much.

I waited for a jealous outburst and readied myself to blast him with curse words not heard often outside a biker bar.

I prepared for him to stalk off, slamming my door in its frame. I even braced myself for possible tears. Not likely given Anthony’s usually dominant attitude, but hey, you never knew. Sometimes the toughest guys ended up the biggest crybabies.

He did none of those things. Nope. The bastard went with option D and drew me back into his arms so he could kiss me. He didn’t speak a word. Just kissed me and groped me. The next thing I knew, the towel hit the floor and his hand slid between my thighs, rubbing across my clit, making thinking almost impossible.

I retained enough wits to know we should stop. The smart thing to do was to move away. The sane option involved me saying no. Apparently, I’d inherited my great aunt Matilda’s crazy streak because instead I rode his fingers on my way to nirvana.

It didn’t take much for my pussy to get slick. My body, already sensitized by all the erotic attention I’d recently been the recipient of, plus the fact I appeared to have entered a late twenties sexual peak, all meant he found me more than willing to enjoy the pleasure he seemed intent on bestowing.

“Oh gawd,” I moaned as he hissed, “That’s it, come for me.”

How I wanted to come. The forceful thrust of his digits, the thumb stroking my nub, the way his teeth tugged at my lower lip… The man knew just which buttons to push, what to do to turn me on. Add to that the fact that I stood there naked while he did this to me fully clothed. Say what you would, it added a whole other element to our tryst, a taboo one that made the whole thing even hotter.

In the midst of a moan, we gained an audience, shattering my almost-there orgasm.

I raised eyelids, heavy with passion, to see Pete standing nearby, watching.

Oops. I’d forgotten to lock the door. One would almost think I wanted to get caught.

Before things got really awkward, I opened my mouth to speak, to warn Anthony, but his lips claimed mine, stealing my voice. I pushed at his shoulders to get his attention, but his fingers found and stroked my sweet spot. Sweet heaven. I couldn’t help myself from enjoying it, even knowing we had an audience.

My eyes closed for a moment as pure pleasure vibrated through me. When I opened them again, Pete still stared, his eyes glowing golden and his hand… Oh damn, his hand cupped his erection, evident even with his jeans.

As if he knew he’d caught my attention, he rubbed himself, matching his strokes to Anthony’s finger thrusts. I’d never understood the attraction of voyeurism until that moment.

Having Pete watch as another man caressed me, the arousal evident in his expression, totally took my pleasure to another level. Heat roared through my veins and I crested, my whole pussy clenching around Anthony’s fingers, my climax vocalizing itself in a shrill cry. Once again, my eyes shuttered themselves as I basked in the ecstasy. As my pleasure ebbed from my glowing body, the only sound was that of my panting, but in that silence, I could feel, with an instinct every woman probably owned, the tenseness spicing the air.

Pete broke the stalemate. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think we’re going to be late for brunch if we don’t get a move on.”

Despite his seeming enjoyment of the impromptu porn show, Pete’s tight, clipped tone threw an effective cold bucket of reality over my actions. Mortified—my throbbing pussy not willing to release Anthony’s still flexing fingers—I stepped away from Anthony, who wore a smug smile.

I flushed. Red from head to toe because, really, what woman wanted to get found being finger fucked by the guy she’d literally just fucked—oh damn it all, this was getting too damned complicated.

Off I stalked, and I mean stomped, to my room, muttering under my breath about men with no boundaries and not forgetting to engage my locks. Probably not the brightest idea leaving much-too-pleased-with-himself Anthony in a room with a jealous and angry werewolf, but in my ire, I’d gone past the point of caring right into the I-hope-they-kill-each-other zone.

I totally felt like the rope in a tug of war. Yanked in two directions. Everyone wanting to win. Everyone wanting to a piece of me. No one caring if they stressed me and stretched me to my breaking point.

Screw that. If they wanted to play games, then they could play them with each other. I had a brunch to make and a gurgling belly to satisfy. Bedroom door slammed shut, music cranked so I didn’t have to listen if they went at each other again, I dressed quickly. Armed with clothing and still annoyed, I didn’t return to the living room. I didn’t want to face or talk to either of them.

Grabbing my purse, which held my keys, I exited via my window onto the fire escape. I know, I know. Cowardly. I should face my problems and deal with them. Blah, blah, blah.

Maybe later when I felt more like myself. Currently, my tummy rumbled with hunger. My pussy griped it was still horny. And emotionally? I was totally annoyed.

I needed a mimosa, stat!

Down I clambered, the metal fire escape creaking and groaning, but, according to the report building management posted on the lobby corkboard, completely safe. Ha. I wondered how many greenbacks it cost them for that lie.

I didn’t plunge to my death, the first good thing to happen that morning, and ended up in the alley. I trotted out from between the two buildings and peered up and down the sidewalk. I didn’t spot either of the idiots stalking me.

Quickly, with a hand outstretched, I flagged a cab, not wanting to risk them spotting me as I walked the ten blocks to the restaurant. Diving into the back seat of a yellow death trap, which drove as if chased by the hounds of hell, I made it to the restaurant alive—but surely missing a few years of my life.

Entering the greasy spoon, I immediately spotted Brenda. She waved as I weaved through the tables until I reached her. Plopping into the seat across from her, I snagged her half drunk beverage. I downed it, despite her indignant, “Hey, that was mine!”

“I needed it more than you,” I said as an excuse when I finished chugging it.

“Apparently. What the hell has you looking so frazzled?” Brenda asked after she’d mimed two more drinks to our waitress.

I held up an extra two fingers. One each wouldn’t cut it. Not today.

At her raised brow, I explained. “Pete spent the night.”

“Damn. You are on a lucky roll,” Brenda exclaimed.

“Not really. When Pete left this morning to get changed, Anthony showed up.”

“Say what?”

“Anthony showed up. Found out Pete had spent the night then proceeded to seduce me, which is of course when Pete returned.”

Brenda’s eyes widened until they rivaled the saucer that held the little packages of milk and cream. “Oh. My. God. What happened next?”

A peek show and an orgasm. Not details I felt like sharing quite yet. Or at least not until I’d had a chance to dissect why I’d let it happen.

“I don’t know. I got dressed and left through my bedroom window.”

My best friend blinked at me. “Did you say you left?”

“Yup.”

Our waitress arrived with our four drinks and I ordered up some food. The hungry man—in this case nympho—special for me, a fruit salad for Brenda.

As soon as our server left, Brenda leaned forward and, in a whisper that was probably heard by everyone in the place, said “Are you telling me that you left a werewolf alone with the guy he caught you fooling around with?”

“Yup.” When she said it so starkly, it didn’t sound so smart. So I drank. The alcohol didn’t make my choice sound any brighter, but at least my insides got a warm fuzzy glow.

“Oh, your poor apartment.”

My forehead wrinkled. “You think they’ll destroy it?”

“Don’t you? Seriously, Chloe, how the heck did you get into this situation? I mean, two hunks, vying for your attention. And you decide to come here? Are you nuts?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” I grumbled. “I thought I’d keep Pete. Then Anthony showed up and kissed me. Next thing I know, I’m riding his hand and questioning my choice when Pete comes back. I panicked.”

“I’ll say you did.”

“So what do you think I should have done then, smartass?”

“Both of them, duh.”

“At once?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a threesome?”

“No.”

An incredulous, “But your parents are in a triad,” burst out of her.

“And? It doesn’t mean they’re into, you know, that kind of kink.” And I’d really rather scratch my eyes out than imagine if they did.

Brenda laughed. “Oh, Chloe. You are such a prude sometimes.”

“Am not. I’m very sexually open-minded.”

“Yet it never occurred to you, that instead of running away from two men who obviously want you, to instead embrace the opportunity to have them both take you?”

“They don’t even like each other.”

“But they like you.”

Not anymore, I was sure. By now, they’d probably caught on to my escape.

I drained drink number one and pushed the empty glass away. I tugged drink number two closer. “I’m not ready for a relationship. Especially not a complicated one.”

“Oh, Chloe. I know you’ve got some trust issues because of what that asshole did.”

“This has nothing to do with my ex.”

“It has everything to do with him. You thought he was the one. You even used the M word.”

M word as in moving in together. “Yeah, well, that was before I caught on to the fact he was a lying, cheating asshole. I’ve realized since then I don’t need a permanent man in my life. I’m perfectly content as a single gal. No one to eat the last slice of cold pizza. No one hogging the bed or remote.”

“No one to hold you and tell you they love you.”

“Then leave you right after so they can fuck the little blonde they hired as their secretary.”

“Not all men are like that.”

“But I have no assurance Pete or Anthony won’t be.”

“You can’t spend the rest of your life assuming all guys are going to cheat on you.”

“I’m not. But I can spend a few years just using them for sex before I make any rash decisions.”

“Somehow I don’t think you have that long.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What do you know that I don’t? Am I dying? Is the world ending? Has that space lab your dad works for discovered some huge meteor hurling our way, about to end life as we know it?”

“What? No. Nobody’s dying.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“Remember how you wanted to take a few years to decide what you want. Don’t look now,” Brenda whispered, “but my prediction is, like it or not, you’re not going to get that long. It seems your men have teamed up and tracked you down.”

She had to be mistaken. I’d not told them where I was going. I’d snuck out.

Apparently, I needed to work on my subterfuge skills.

The men, whom I thought I’d evaded, slid in on either side of me on the bench, squashing me between them.

This was going beyond determined to pursue right into freaky. Could anyone say stalker?

“How did you find me?” For one insane moment, I couldn’t help picturing Anthony waving my dirty underwear under Pete’s nose and then the pair of them loping off to hunt me, Pete playing the part of blood hound, nose to the ground following my scent. Disturbing, yet so vivid. Damn, the mimosas in this place were good!

“I texted your mother,” Pete said, signaling our waitress and bursting my odd theory. “She very kindly let me know where you and Brenda enjoyed getting together for brunch.”

Someone really needed to have a talk with my matchmaking mother. “And you just decided to show up? Did you not get the hint I needed some time alone?”

“Yes. But we chose to ignore it,” Anthony answered, not sounding in the least repentant about the decision. “It occurred to us that we needed to speak.”

“We? As in all three of us?”

“Yes.”

“There’s nothing to say.” I yelped as Brenda kicked me under the table. “What? There isn’t.”

Brenda frowned at me. “I disagree. If you won’t say anything, I will.”

“Don’t you dare.” I glared at my best friend.

“I will dare because you’re being an idiot. They’re making an effort. The least you could do is hear them out.”

“No one ever asked them to. And no, I don’t have to listen. If I wanted to hear them argue about who gets to keep me, I would have stayed. Smarter men would have gotten the hint. I guess they let their little heads make the decision to follow.”

“Am I the only one offended by the reference to little?” Pete looked around the table. “I’ve been called many things before, but little was never one of them.”

“Fine. I stand corrected. You’re not little in that department, either of you,” I added pointedly when Pete threw a smug in-your-face look of triumph at Anthony. “Which is probably why neither of you are thinking clearly. Obviously, there’s a lack of blood flow to the intelligent part of your body.”

Brenda snickered. “Damn. You guys are good. Complimented and insulted in one fell swoop. But we’re getting off track. Nice try, Chloe.”

“What do you mean?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, your pleasant demeanor hasn’t frightened them off.”

No. It hadn’t. Neither Anthony nor Pete showed any sign of budging. What would it take?

Or would my BFF do the job for me? Brenda would have made a great matador. She grabbed the bull by the horns and stopped it dead in its tracks.

“Let me ask you, boys, just what are your intentions toward my best friend?”

“Are you asking if we’re going to propose?”

I almost choked on a mouthful of mimosa. “Good gawd no!”

Pete snickered at my exclamation and I elbowed him. As if I hurt the beast. He didn’t so much as flinch.

Brenda forged ahead. “Nothing that drastic. Yet.” She ignored my glare. “I won’t go into details; I’ll leave that to her. But suffice it to say, my BFF has trust issues. Big ones. Be that as it may, she still likes both of you. Or as much as she’s capable of, given she’s an ornery bitch who thinks relationships are for dumbasses.”

Eloquently put except for the liking part. I did not like them. Much.

“Are you saying that after what happened last night we’re not in a relationship?” Pete asked in a low rumble.

“Yes,” I replied quickly. “Or do I mean no? I mean, no, we’re not in a relationship.”

“What about you, lawyer dude?” Brenda pinned him with a stare that might have looked menacing to a chipmunk.

Trust Anthony to make the dirty things we did sound snooty. “I assumed given our coital relations that we were.”

Was I the only one who knew the meaning of hook-up? “No we’re not. It was just sex.”

“I disagree,” Anthony countered. “We might have let attraction initially bring us together, but having spent some time with you and your family, as well as having dealt with you on a professional level, I freely admit you intrigue me. I want to get to know you on more than just a sexual level.”

“Ditto what he said,” Pete added.

“I’m sorry, but did you just say in some roundabout way that you like me?”

“Yes. I like you. Very much in fact.”

Thankfully, the restaurant didn’t have any flies, or I might have caught a few with my gaping maw.

Rich, suave dudes did not just announce in greasy spoons that they liked a girl. Didn’t their prep school handbooks have a rule against that? “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Said that I like you? What’s wrong with that?” Anthony asked.

“Everything. We barely know each other and you’re not supposed to just, I don’t know, blurt it aloud, where people can hear it.”

Pete snickered. “And how else would we do it? This isn’t some romance novel or sappy movie. This is real life. We like you and we want you to like us. I guess we could have pretended to act all cool and shit. Maybe given you the runaround and kept you guessing, but frankly, I’m not into playing juvenile games. I know what I want and that happens to be you.”

Don’t melt. Don’t melt. Don’t melt.

“The dog might have put it rather crudely, but aptly. I don’t see a need to play games or to hide my intentions. You seem like a woman who appreciates honesty and forthrightness. By declaring our intentions upfront, such as our intention to engage you in a relationship based on more than just coitus, we hope to gain your regard and trust.”

“But I don’t want a relationship.” My sulky tone went well with my jutting lower lip.

“Perhaps not an emotional one as of yet, but that is only because we are in the early stages. The discovery stage, if you will. I, for one, wish to pursue it further.”

“If you ignore the fact that I’m not as fancy as lawyer boy over there, then yeah, I think you’re hot, but I also like the fact you’re smart and funny.”

“Don’t you mean supercilious and sarcastic?” I retorted. “Or, in the words of my BFF, an ornery bitch.”

Pete frowned. “I wouldn’t use the B word. My kind doesn’t like it. However, what some people call ornery, I label assertive and no-nonsense. It’s a rare and attractive quality.”

“As for myself, I enjoy the fact you don’t simper or couch your word or actions. Do you have any idea how refreshing it is to meet a woman who is not afraid to be herself? To speak her mind? And, not only that, one with a passion that is unrestrained and really quite tempting?” Anthony tossed his two cents in, flustering me even further.

“We are not having this conversation in a restaurant,” I moaned, laying my head face-first down on the table. Figured it was sticky. Great. Now I’d have a jam mark on my forehead.

“We wouldn’t be if you hadn’t scurried off,” Pete said, scolding me.

“I did not scurry. I climbed.” Yeah, way to tell them!

I pried my face from the table and chugged the rest of my orange drink.

“We noticed, hence why we followed.”

“And found me.” I spit on a napkin and scrubbed at the jam. I wished I could wipe the male problem sandwiching me so easily. “So where do we go from here? Flip a coin? Arm wrestle? Or have you already decided?”

“I don’t think I follow.”

“How do we decide which of you gets me?”

Dead silence.

“Well?” I asked. “Because I sure as hell am not choosing. I’m not the one who wants a relationship. You guys are. So how are we going to decide who gets first shot?”

Over the top of my head, Pete spoke to Anthony. “She expects us to choose?”

Duh. Hadn’t I just said that?

Brenda sighed and shook her head. “Do I have to do everything?”

I shot her daggers. She didn’t die on the spot.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Chloe is uncomfortable with the whole doing-two-guys-at-once thing.”

“So are we,” Pete answered.

Anthony shifted beside me. “But, given the situation, the dog and I have agreed we could share.”

“On a rotational basis, of course.”

“Gee, how nice of you to make this decision without me,” I snapped.

Brenda kicked me again in the same spot, making an already blossoming bruise bigger. I’d have to get her back later. Maybe by having a giant cake sent to her place and making her gain five pounds. I knew her weakness and I wasn’t afraid to exploit it in the name of revenge.

“We’re sorry about the presumption. However, given our rivalry seemed to make you uncomfortable, we came to an understanding.”

“Did this understanding involve any violence that resulted in the destruction of my apartment?” I braced myself for the worst.

“We’re not animals,” Pete said with a chuckle. “Well, not all of the time at any rate.”

Way to remind me. I still had so many questions about the whole werewolf thing, but more pressing matters required my blunt attention. “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re going to take turns, what, screwing me until one of you ends up a winner?” Sounded like fun. But they presumed a lot. “And what if I want neither of you?”

For some reason, that made them both rock with laughter. I didn’t find my comment that amusing, but apparently, the matter was already decided. Like it or not, I had two men in my life. Men who would share me. Starting Monday.

When I pleaded for time to think, they graciously agreed to let me have the rest of my Sunday alone.

Of course, I regretted that the moment they left, each planting a kiss on my lips that made me want to forget I wanted neither and drag them back to my apartment.

If you asked me, they did it on purpose. Kissed me until I was turned on then leave so I couldn’t say no when they came to spend quality time with me. So long as that time meant orgasms, I guess I’d have to tolerate it.

Damn, the things I had to put up with as a law-abiding citizen.