When plotting to finally lose your virginity, it was important to keep your eye on the prize.

In this case, the one between her legs.

A relationship? Not necessary. But someone she trusted was a must.

Caitlyn Sachs blew out a breath and gazed around the kitchen in her mom’s small place. Relationships were tricky business, as evidenced by her mother and her sisters’ issues with their significant others. It was hard to find a decent guy, one who wouldn’t feed you a line and then vanish when you turned your back. At least that was all she’d seen while growing up.

At almost twenty-five, Cait’s record was virtually spotless. Sure, she’d gotten her heart dented a few times, but she’d managed to avoid the trainwreck relationships her friends and family had been sucked into.

And that still-happened-to-be-a-virgin thing? Merely a technicality, because she’d certainly done her share of messing around. She’d done almost everything but the deed itself.

Multiple times.

But hell, she was tired of having the expectation of her first time looming ahead. She knew it would probably be shitty, so she needed to get on to having good sex. Finally. Her irrational fear of an unplanned pregnancy was getting old. She’d gone on birth control as soon as she’d made the decision to have sex, and she’d insist on condoms too.

See, she was thinking practically.

“Marnie, settle those kids down. I can’t think with all this racket,” Mrs. Sachs said, bracing the hand that held her spatula on her hip.

“Jeez, Mama, what do you want me to do? Stuff something in their mouths?”

“Maybe. If it’ll quiet this place down, then yes.”

Cait braced her head on her hand and tried not to breathe in the scent of burnt onions and too much perfume.

She could be out Christmas shopping instead of dealing with the insanity of home. Home meant her younger sisters and their babies and her frustrated mother.

Cait understood frustration. Just not the same kind. Hers was all situationally based.

She sighed. Eh, she didn’t feel like shopping right now. Too much on her mind. But she could be getting a manicure. Maybe even seeing a movie with one of her best friends, assuming she could drag Tristan away from his desk or Matthew away from the game on TV. But no, she’d come home to do her duty, though at the moment she would’ve preferred to be anywhere else.

They were her guys. Her center in all ways. And maybe after this weekend, one of them would be that much more.

Perhaps one of them would be her lover, at least temporarily.

It wasn’t like she could choose between Matt and Tristan. She loved them both equally. Plus they were hot as hell. That the three of them lived together in the loft above Tristan Design, their graphic design business, only made it that much easier to coordinate. Slide in, slide out, cross the hall, and shut the door.

This weekend, she’d make her proposal. Whether that proposal would be well received was anyone’s guess, but she suspected that was part of why she felt so antsy tonight.

She needed to speak up before she chickened out.

Another reason she’d chosen to sleep with Tristan or Matt. This would be on her terms. She could control the parameters, say when it began and when it ended. They’d never push her.

In the meantime, she had to push herself and get home. She had a deflowering to arrange. Though in her case it wasn’t deflowering so much as a…deadheading. She grinned. Yeah, that worked. She’d be snapping off a worn-out worry she’d carried around way too long.

She rose to her feet as her mother and her sister Marnie started arguing about how they’d fit a nursery into an already crowded three-bedroom apartment. Before she could leave, her baby sister, Valerie, rushed through the back door into the kitchen, her golden hair hidden by her hooded sweatshirt. Under her arm she carried the basketball that seemed to be her constant companion. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she jogged through without stopping.

“Val?” Cait hurried forward to grip her elbow. Out of all of them, Val was her favorite. At fourteen, Val was a straight-A student and already on the varsity basketball team. “Where’s the fire?”

“Gotta study,” she said, not meeting Cait’s gaze.

“Midterms week, huh? One reason Christmas sucks.” Smiling, Cait rubbed her shoulder. “Grades still good?” she asked, raising her voice above her mother and Marnie’s argument. Thank God her other sister Ginny had finally herded Marnie’s two kids and her own two into the living room. “Should we expect another perfect report card?”

Val yanked back her sweatshirt, revealing the sunny twin ponytails she usually hid under hoods and ball caps. “Grades are fine.”

Cait frowned. Normally Val was a chatterbox, but tonight she seemed unwilling to say much at all. Strange. Maybe the family drama was getting to her. “You know, you could always come stay with me at the loft for a couple of days,” she said in an undertone. “You could get more studying done.”

“No, thanks.” Val gave her big sister a weak smile. “I just lock myself in my room.”

“But you share a room with Ginny. How can you get any privacy?”

Val gave her an odd look. “Why would I need privacy? All I ever do is schoolwork and play basketball.”

That was a good thing at least. Val was so smart and pretty and athletic. God, she didn’t have to settle. And she wouldn’t, if her older sister had anything to say about it.

“Basketball going okay? I’ll be at the game on Sunday. Can’t wait to watch you guys destroy the Thundercats.” She grinned and waited for Val to grin back.

She didn’t.

“I’m not going to be playing Sunday,” she whispered.

“What? Why?”

“I got suspended from the team.”

Cait sucked in a breath and tried not to panic. “How come? What happened?”

“It’s no big deal. I’ll be able to play again after Christmas.”

“No big deal?” Basketball was Val’s life. Or it had been. “Games like this are what get the scouts interested. Even this early in your high school career, you need to start thinking about scholarships. You’re one of the best guards in the state. Believe me, colleges are already watching your performances.”

“It’s no big deal,” Val said again, brushing off Cait’s hand. “I’ve gotta study. See ya later.”

“Val—” Cait called as her sister tore out of the room, long ponytails flying.

She released a breath and forced herself not to run after her sister. Val was in ninth grade, and that was a tough year for even the most well-adjusted kids.

Somehow she’d get Val through whatever difficulty had led to her suspension. If Val wouldn’t tell Cait what was going on, she would call her coach directly. No matter what, she’d be there for her and get her back on the right path.

Cait glanced at her sister and her mother, who’d now moved their spat to the small pantry off the kitchen. Apparently that would be the location of the nursery.

Cait grabbed the box of breakables her mother had packed up for her and headed for the back door. Time to go.

On the way out of her mom’s parking lot, her cell chirped. She checked the readout and dutifully stopped the car, a smile already forming. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Tristan’s warm voice flowed over the line. “Where are you?”

The sounds of a scuffle ensued, complete with colorful curses. “Yeah, where are you? And wherever it is, can you bring back food?” Matt chimed in, coaxing forth a laugh.

“You have a car. Go get your own takeout. What do I look like, your maid?”

“How about French maid? I can see you in one of those little black-and-white outfits. With one of those lacy things on your hair and a really short skirt --”

“Her skirts are already plenty short,” Tristan put in after yet another scuffle. “We thought you’d be around for dinner.”

“I headed out to my mom’s. Didn’t Matt tell you?”

“You know how he is. Half-witted.”

“If he didn’t spend all his time playing video games, he might eventually make it to a full three quarters,” she replied, knowing Matt would have some smart comment.

“Watch the insults,” Matt interjected. “Or else I’m going to torch all your clothes and fill up your closet with slut gear.”

She grinned and tried to ignore the typical flutter in her stomach at that word. Slut. If she knew anything, it was that Matt and Tris would never hurt her—with names or otherwise. “You again. Don’t you have anything to do but spy on personal phone calls?”

“Dickweed put you on speakerphone.”

“I feel the love.” She laughed. “Try not to go at each other too badly before I get home, ’kay?”

“We’ll try to control ourselves.” Tristan’s dry tone made her laugh again. “So how’s the fam?”

“They’re fine.” She wet her dry lips. “Um, I got some of Abe’s stuff done. Well, I started thinking about it anyway.”

“Thinking’s a definite plus. So you’re leaving us on our own tonight?”

She glanced out the windshield as icy flakes started to drift down from the dark gray sky. Nightfall came so early this time of year, and she really wasn’t a fan of driving around in snow. But she needed just a little more time.

“Not the whole night. I’ll be around in a while. Probably by ten.” Her growling stomach provided a handy excuse. “I’m going to go grab some food, but then I’d like to talk to you. If you have time.”

“I always have time for you. Have some right now, actually.”

“Oh sure, food. Right.” Matt let out a pitiful moan. “Leave us here to starve.”

She ignored Matt. “Nah, later’s good. Anytime this weekend works. It’s not urgent.”

Her hymen might say otherwise, but she’d chosen not to heed its silent screams. Since she’d waited this long, she could wait another few hours or even a day or two to have the big talk with her boys.

“Whatever works for you. I’m ready, willing, and able.”

Just like that, her mind zoomed into the gutter. She had no doubt at all how able Tristan was. Or little, anyway, since she couldn’t know for sure until she’d gotten him naked. But if imagination counted, she’d already slept with him a dozen times. Probably more.

“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit. You boys be good.”

“Always. See ya.”

“Bad’s better,” Matt said just before she clicked off with a smile.

They were insane, both of them. Matt more so, but Tristan had his own streak of crazy. And she loved them so damn much.

After she’d roamed around the mall and run out of ways to stall, she headed back to the loft. It was nearly nine when she walked into the big open communal office area—currently devoid of her partners—that served as the headquarters of Tristan Design.

Three big desks formed a spaced-out L, making it easy for her to toss balled-up paper at Matt across the aisle. That Tris got annoyed at the paper waste increased her enjoyment. He was militant about keeping office expenses down. Anything else, spending-wise, was fair game. His wardrobe in particular. The guy had a suit for every damn day of the week. But when it came to equipment and supplies, he watched Cait and Matt like a hawk.

Not that they took him seriously. A couple of bats of her blue eyes and he was putty in her hands.

She grinned and set down the box from her mom’s on the counter of the kitchenette in back where they ate most of their lunches and just as many of their dinners. They worked late a lot, especially at this time of year. Everyone wanted to get their spring ad campaigns finalized before the end-of-the-year holidays, so Cait and Tris were designing their asses off. Matt, as their de facto tech guy-slash-accountant-slash-web designer, kept everything running smoothly.

Tomorrow she’d start the new series of ads they were designing for one of their biggest clients, Abe Donnelly of Donnelly Clothiers. She couldn’t wait. Abe always pushed her for the most cutting-edge layouts, and she relished rising to the challenge.

She glanced at her watch. Though it was still early, her friends weren’t anywhere in sight. Weird. So much for hoping to talk to Tristan tonight. The plan had been to mention her ideas for Abe’s project; then maybe if her nerve held, she’d segue into the discussion she hoped to have with him and Matt about other, more carnal matters.

She’d told them she wouldn’t be back until closer to ten, true, but she’d overestimated her ability to waste time driving around as the snow worsened. Of course if she hadn’t rushed out of her mom’s house, she wouldn’t have had that problem.

Her chest constricted, and she frowned. Yep, right on cue. She always got a case of the guilties after escaping back to her ordered, happy life.

She should’ve stayed longer. Her family drove her wacky sometimes, but she loved them. All of them. And it was almost Christmas. The kids were bouncing off the walls over Santa. At least the ones old enough to have a clue who Santa was, anyway.

Next time she’d stick around. Better yet, maybe she’d knock off work early tomorrow night and go take the kids to the movies. Give her sisters and her mom a night off.

She yanked open the fridge door and poked her head in. Soda? Or better yet, something with kick? She grabbed a beer and uncapped it, sighing as the cold brew slid down her throat.

While she drank, she rummaged through the packages of snacks on the counter. Pretzels, meh. No diet food near Christmas. Why bother? She grinned and eyed an unopened bright orange bag. Cheese puffs were a much better option.

Tucking them under her arm, she stepped into the back hallway that led upstairs. All quiet. Even the stray kitty Tristan liked to feed wasn’t curled up in the box he’d set up for him to stay in on cold nights. Maybe Tris hadn’t been able to round him up tonight.

She smiled. It was always so cute to hear Tristan calling, “Hey, cat!” as he walked around outside with a handful of treats.

Cait ascended the spiral staircase, then stopped at the top to listen. For what, she wasn’t sure. The guys probably weren’t home. Maybe they’d gone out to grab a pizza. Or maybe one of them had had a last-minute date. It was Friday, after all. And they were sexy single guys.

Too single. Too sexy.

She wrinkled her nose. Not that she cared that they dated eagerly and often. Their hookup with her—whichever one of them turned out to be willing to aid in her virginity search-and-destroy mission—would be a one-time thing. Then all would return to normal.

Hey, if she got an orgasm or two out of the deal, she’d consider the maneuver a rousing success.

She strolled down the hall that branched off into three sections. Matt’s was first, hers in the middle. But instead of heading straight for her set of rooms, she hesitated.

It was too quiet. Unnaturally so.

A line of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Slowly, she unwound her scarf. She’d forgotten to take off her outer clothes. No wonder she was hot. She had no reason to be nervous in her own house.

Did she?

Then she heard a heavy scraping sound, like furniture being moved, and she pressed her back to the wall. Oh God. She’d known something was wrong. The lights were off, so who the hell would be moving furniture? Maybe someone had broken in and overpowered the guys. They could be tied up even now or worse. Maybe the serial killer was rolling their bodies up in the rug in Tristan’s living room.

She shoved her fist into her mouth to keep from making a noise. The smart thing to do would be to run downstairs and get help. Maybe the police would arrive in time.

A groan ripped through the air, disturbing the silence so fully that the sound echoed. And it sure didn’t seem like pain. Well, not regular pain. She’d heard that particular sound before when guys—

Again. A long, low sound of pleasure.

She bit down on her knuckles, forgetting the cheese puffs she held under her arm. The bag clattered to the floor, but whoever was boinking in the bedroom couldn’t hear. Not when they were now screwing so loudly that the bed was moving.

Tristan’s bed.

That had been the noise she’d heard. They were going at it so hard that the frame kept slamming against the wall.

Creak. Creak. A pause. Slam.

Her stomach twisted, hard. The beer suddenly tasted rancid on her tongue.

Why should she be jealous? Stupid. Tris was a talented lover. Of course women wanted him. Matt too. Women wanted Matt, she amended, only half-aware that her feet were carrying her closer to the bedroom instead of away.

The door to Tristan’s section was shut. Though this level had been split equally into three distinct areas, the doors that separated them from one another were usually only closed when someone had a girlfriend or boyfriend over. Even then Matt in particular could be counted on to leave the door cracked, as if he got off on the idea of making his roommates listen to his bedroom antics. He was noisy as hell in bed, grunting and yelling with the best of them.

Honestly, she envied him. She sure hadn’t ever experienced anything to elicit sounds like he regularly made. Moans, sure. But grunts wrested from the depth of her soul?

That would be a no.

She stopped, her throat convulsing at the new groans reverberating down the hall. That wasn’t Tristan.

No way.

Matthew was in Tristan’s apartment, but why? Did they have a girl in there? Were they having a threesome?

Shit.

They’d never told her they did stuff like that, but single guys in their late twenties were apt to do any damn thing.

More than ever, her virginity felt like a giant weight pressing down on her chest. And other overstimulated parts of her body.

If they were having a threesome, why hadn’t they asked her? She was their frigging best friend. The one who cleaned them up and dumped them into bed when they’d had too much fun on Saturday night, the one who picked out presents for Matt’s mom because he hated to and sent out office Christmas cards because Tristan’s handwriting looked like a mass murderer’s.

They were a trio, and as such, if they’d progressed to ménages, it only made sense that she be the third spoke of their sexfest.

She rubbed her knuckles against her hip and inhaled deeply. Wait, what? What in God’s name was she thinking? She didn’t want to have a threesome.

With them or anyone. Ordinary twosome sex was vexing enough.

Fisting her hands, Cait continued on until she reached Tris’s door. She pushed it open as quietly as possible and stepped inside the darkened living room. Silence prevailed but only briefly. Then the bed banging erupted again, more violently than before. The moans that sliced through the night mixed and mingled, though each was distinct and completely recognizable.

Jerks.

Their earlier conversation flashed through her mind, tinged heavily with a sense of betrayal she couldn’t repress. She never liked being left out, but this brought that feeling home with a vengeance. Just when she’d made a decision to take a definitive step toward embracing her sexuality, they had to reenact some kind of tawdry movie mere feet away from her own bed.

“Try not to go at each other too badly before I get home, ’kay?”

“We’ll try to control ourselves.”

Lie of the century right there. Control themselves? Not hardly.

Tristan and Matt were in that room. In the three years they’d lived together, she’d heard them more often than she could count, and she knew she was hearing them now.

“So you’re leaving us on our own tonight?”

Man, they’d jumped all over her absence, hadn’t they? She was thrilled she’d helped them get lucky.

Her heartbeat quickened as the groans hit a crescendo. The lump in her throat became a rock, keeping out the oxygen she couldn’t gulp in fast enough.

Still she kept moving toward Tristan’s bedroom. Crazy or not, she had to know who was in there with them. The woman must be the quiet type.

Cait would just ease open the door, peek in, get the scoop, and back out with no one the wiser. They’d never know.

But the door was already open, just a little. Just enough for her to see the action on the bed and the two figures going at it.

Two.

Only two.

The one beneath fisted his hands in the sheets, sheets that were already more off the bed than on. A strong grip was all that could anchor him in place with the force of the thrusts into his ass. Each one sent the frame clattering against the wall. Probably leaving scuff marks. Probably tearing strips out of the floor.

They’d spent hours varnishing that hardwood, lovingly restoring it after the previous owners’ lackluster care. Now it would be ruined.

Everything had been ruined. Everything.

“Fucking hell, I’m coming.”

Tristan’s exclamation sent her careening back into her body, ripping away thoughts of the floor, of life as she’d known it before she walked out the door that night. In its place was something entirely different, a new reality she couldn’t quite focus on as her eyes struggled to behold what her mind couldn’t—wouldn’t—comprehend.

“Me too. Shit.”

She clutched her beer, her heart rampaging so hard she feared she’d pass out. Her nipples puckered, and her vision blurred. Their long, muscled, perspiration-sheened bodies doubled. Even so she was incapable of looking away from the erotic tableau spread out in front of her.

Tristan reared back to tear off the condom, then gripped his long, erect cock—maybe she still had double vision, because he couldn’t be that big—and pumped it over Matt’s flexing back until long streams of cum shot off like a fountain. Tristan groaned and tipped his head forward, working his erection for every drop.

She breathed through her mouth, stunned and aroused beyond belief. And she was confused. So freaking confused. But she couldn’t turn away, and she couldn’t shut off the longing knifing through her lower belly.

It took all her will not to fling herself over the threshold and beg Tris to take her the way he’d seen fit to take their best friend. Hard. Untamed.

That was what she craved.

She didn’t want Tristan to treat her as if she were a delicate, breakable doll, his innocent Caity Bait, the name he’d christened her with in college because she’d been younger than everyone else and too tempting for the older guys.

She needed to be possessed in the way he’d possessed Matt. Ached to be caught beneath that spray of cum. Except she wanted it on her breasts, where she could use her fingers to mop it up. Then she’d taste him, let the flavor of his release explode on her tongue. Drink up every bit of him and ask for more.

To keep from moaning herself, she took a quick swallow of beer. It still tasted off. Not like it had tasted even minutes ago.

Matt stroked his own cock now, fast and rough. Any instant now, he’d go off too.

She’d never seen two men together before. Never realized she wanted to. Especially her men. But God, it was so hot. So unbelievable.

Matt shifted slightly, giving her a better view of the show. And then he came with a wild cry, his spurts disappearing into the tangled sheets, making her clench with unfulfilled want.

Cait gasped and took a step backward. Her knees locked, making further movement impossible. Jesus, what was her problem? She could process what she’d seen later, after she was safely in her own bedroom, far from the pants and shudders that had arousal pooling in her panties.

But she’d only managed a step when Matt shifted his head as he fought to catch his breath. His eyes met hers for one long, charged moment.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

Tristan laughed, but he didn’t respond to Matt’s curse, probably figuring it had to do with his spectacular finish.

Not quite.

Matt looked as shocked as she felt. Gobsmacked, actually. He started to get up, but Tristan bent, still holding his cock, and licked a trail up between Matt’s shoulder blades. Matt fisted his hands in the sheets again and closed his eyes as aftershocks racked his body.

Tristan licked for a while, careful to clean up every remnant of the mess he’d made. Matt barely whimpered, but she could tell from his rigid stance over the bed he would be ready to go again in no time.

If she hadn’t been there, he would probably already be rolling over and taking hold of Tris’s cock, bringing the still-stiff length to his lips and swallowing the salty tang of the release she yearned to taste.

A hot wave of urgency swept over her. She quivered, her tight nipples pressing against the bodice of her wool dress. She couldn’t watch this anymore. Not unless she intended to become part of the scene and not just a voyeur.

Not that they’d invited her.

The party she’d crashed was clearly just for two, and she’d already overstayed her welcome.

Though she stumbled, she managed to turn and get the hell out of there.

* * *

Matt watched Cait spin away from the doorway, her long blonde hair flashing in the darkness. He deliberately released his grip on the sheets, one finger at a time.

Playtime was officially over.

“Let me up,” he said in an undertone, his mind whirling. He had to go to her. Alone. If Tristan got involved, he’d churn them all up until they couldn’t have a rational conversation. She’d be excitable enough on her own.

Hell, from the shock he’d seen written on her face, that was probably an understatement. She had to be perplexed. Hurt even. Betrayed that they hadn’t told her.

Christ, she probably hated them now.

“Somebody sounds cranky.” Grinning, Tristan did as Matt had asked. He cleaned up with a tissue, then searched out his abandoned condom and disposed of both with former Boy Scout zeal. “Next time you can take a turn at bat. If you’re good.”

Matt rolled his eyes, so not in the mood it wasn’t even funny. Of course if Tris knew why, he wouldn’t be jovial either. But Matt wasn’t about to deal with both him and Cait at once.

His best friends were like two lit matches, each encouraging the other to burn. As much as he loved them, putting out one fire at a time was plenty.

“I’ll put it on my list for Santa.” Matt sat up and reached for his boxers, determined to ignore the wetness drying on his back. He needed a shower, but that would have to wait.

“Santa came early.”

“Ugh, mental pictures are forming I don’t need, bro.” With effort, Matt made his tone light as he got dressed. Fast. “Thank God you stopped dressing up like him for Cait’s nieces and nephews, or I’d be scarred for life.”

Tristan snagged his dress shirt off the back of a chair and shrugged into it, leaving the crisp fabric unbuttoned over the trousers he tugged up with annoying efficiency. He always skipped underwear, claiming it saved time. Matt’s hands were still shaking—though that might have been for more than one reason—but Tris’s grip appeared rock steady.

As usual. Unflappable Tris. Except when he wasn’t. Then heaven and hell both needed to watch out.

“What’s your rush?” he asked, his tone mild. “You forget to DVR SportsCenter?”

“No. I just have a…phone call to make. To, uh, my mom.”

Smooth. Matt shook his head. Finish sex with a hot guy, and hurry out of the room to call Mommy.

Not that he really intended to do that, but still. He caught Tris’s sexy smirk and turned away to tuck in his T-shirt. Much more of that and Matt would be on his stomach on the bed again in no time.

“Right. Well, have fun. I’m going to grab some quality laptop time. Want to use the phone in here?”

“No,” Matt said, a little too quickly judging from Tris’s raised eyebrows. “Think I’ll get a beer.” Maybe a couple.

“I’ll be down in a while,” Tris said, already heading into the living room.

“Take your time.” Again he got the raised eyebrow look. “I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve talked to Mom and—”

“Knock yourself out. I’ve got plenty to do up here. Besides, Caity’ll be back anytime.”

Matt plastered a bland smile on his face as he ran a hand over his hair. Tris was a hair puller, so it was a freaking mess as expected. Damn shame he was overdue for a cut. He pulled a rubber band out of his pocket and yanked it back into a short ponytail, wincing at the scrape along the back of his neck.

Stubble. Had felt damn good at the time, not so much now.

He rubbed his own bristly jaw. How could women stand that sensation on their thighs? He’d have to be more mindful of shaving, since he normally considered it a hit-or-miss activity.

Being with Tris had made him more mindful of a lot of things. Personal grooming. How much fun it was falling for your best friend, even if no one else could know. Exactly how deliciously vulnerable it felt to be at your lover’s mercy when you knew he’d show you none.

And now Matt was mindful that their other best friend was about to rip into his ass in an entirely new way.

“See ya,” he said, already reaching for the doorknob. He didn’t hear Tris’s reply.

Halfway down the hall, he picked up an unopened bag of cheese puffs.

Cait’s favorite.

He sighed. Dear God, what was he going to say?

He found her in the kitchenette. She had a perfectly good kitchen upstairs in her own apartment, but he’d rightly guessed she’d be downstairs.

Anything to get away, if not very far.

Tea whistled mournfully on the stove. She ignored it, staring off into the distance while she pressed dents into the dials with her white-knuckled fingers.

“Cait.”

She whipped her head around at his voice. Her blazing blue eyes drilled into his. “I don’t want to speak to you.”

“Too bad.” He tried to ignore that she was trembling, so faintly he doubted she even realized. “I’m here, and we’re talking.”

“There isn’t anything to say.”

“Bullshit.”

She pressed her lips together and faced the cheerful rooster-patterned wallpaper above the burners. “I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but Tris already had that honor.”

“Jealous?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “We both know how much you’ve wanted that particular piece of ass since college.”

She glared at him. If he wasn’t mistaken, her trembling had become straight fury. Good. If she started to cry, he’d lose it. He could handle anything but that.

“Are you jealous?” she countered. “Since if I want his ass, I must not want yours.”

“Oooh, I’m crushed.” He rubbed his palm over his heart, his gaze measuring hers. This conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected, but he’d ride it out. “I expected you to deny it,” he said, hoping like hell his voice stayed even. “To tell me I was wrong.”

Cait shrugged jerkily and yanked her teapot off the stove. She glowered again when he came up beside her to turn off the burner. “I can handle that myself, thank you very much. Don’t you have a bed to be bent over? So sorry I interrupted your private time.” She turned away, but he shot out his hand and grabbed her arm. “Let me go, dammit.”

“Not bloody likely.” He tugged her closer, noting the flare of her nostrils and the way her irises darkened like storm clouds.

She had such expressive eyes. Each nuance of emotion showed up there, a virtual guidebook to her thoughts.

Right now anger brewed in them. Maybe even jealousy. But there was more.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked softly, tightening his hold when her shaking intensified.

She shifted her face away. “I asked you to let me go.”

“You really do want him,” Matt murmured, pressing his fingers into her sensitive skin. But he couldn’t let go. Her scent wrapped around him, fresh like peaches but warmer, sweeter.

Drugging him into forgetting he was supposed to be making her understand.

She set the teapot aside on the small refinished hardwood table. If Tris were there, he’d grab an oven mitt and slide it underneath to protect the wood.

Since he wasn’t, the pot remained.

“I bet you loved it when you realized I’d be out for a while tonight. Plenty of time to rip the rug out from underneath me and use it to whack each other off.”

Since that phrase made him think of a mobster show and not sex, he had to fight back a smile. “Why should you care? You’re not sleeping with either of us.”

“Why should I care? Did you really just ask me that?”

“Yes.” He stepped a fraction closer. “I did. So?”

“How long have you been fucking each other right under my nose?”

Matt swallowed, hard. “Almost a year.”

Her eyes widened, and she whirled out of his grip. “A year? You’re kidding me. There’s no way, just no way you could be—” She clutched her midsection. “There were girls. You’ve been with women since then. I know you have.”

Now he was the one to shrug. “Yeah. We’re still into women too. It’s not an either/or with us.”

“No, it’s screw whatever’s available, right? If it’s some pussy, fine. Or a cock in the ass. What difference does it make?”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he said, his tone easy. “Have you?”

“God. Only you would turn this into an excuse to talk about sex.” She picked up the teapot and sloshed tea into her favorite cartoon coyote mug.

“Isn’t everything?” He stepped closer and rested his hands lightly on the table on either side of her, effectively boxing her in. She wouldn’t be running from this like she’d run away upstairs.

She drank her tea, swallowing audibly, and didn’t reply.

“So,” he said, moving his face closer. Almost immediately she bristled from the feeling of his breath hot on the back of her neck. Or maybe it was the erection he’d be damned if he would try to hide. “Anal sex. Ever tried it? Ever let a guy slide his dick inside your ass? Stretch you wide open and make you burn from the inside out, until it feels like your whole body’s throbbing, aching for relief. Until you’re begging him to make you come.”

“Have I ever mentioned that to you?” Her voice caught and gave on an impatient breath. “You know I tell you everything. If I’d done…that, you’d know.”

“Obviously we don’t tell each other everything.”

“You don’t. I do.”

“Really.” He reached up to undo the ponytail gathered at the base of her neck. She stiffened, but she didn’t stop him. Interesting. “Except that little thing about you wanting Tristan.” Her gaze bounced to the stairway leading upstairs. “He won’t bother us,” Matt added, tossing aside the band and running his fingers through the silken gold strands.

“How do you know that? And what are you doing? Is leftover lust addling your brain? Christ.” She elbowed him in the gut—without checking her strength—and turned to face him. “I get what you’re doing, you know.” She banged the mug on the table. “You’re trying to get me to forget what I saw. I know your games, Matt. I’ve seen you use your tricks on other chicks. Do you really think I’d fall for them?”

“My games. My tricks. So is that why Tris got in bed with me, you think?” Idly, he twirled a lock of her hair. “You think I coerced him the way you obviously believe I do with women?”

“You got him into bed. Not the other way around. Right. That’s why he was inside you, ramming away.”

“You’ll learn, sweetness, that sometimes the one on the bottom isn’t any less powerful than the one on top.”

Something hot and primal flashed in her eyes, and she firmed her trembling lips. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Huh?”

“I. Wouldn’t. Know. I haven’t been underneath anyone. Or on top. Or any other damn way.”

His breath tripped. Nope. Couldn’t be possible. She wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying.

She couldn’t be a virgin.

Matt searched his memory banks. She’d discussed sex with him lots of times and not in the abstract. He always got the deets if her boyfriends got her off—or if they didn’t. Usually he heard more details than he needed, and he reciprocated in kind.

For nine years, they’d been the kind of close friends where anything went. No detail off-limits.

Except him and Tristan being lovers. From day one, he’d hidden that from her, not knowing how she’d take it. Or knowing precisely and being unwilling to see the judgment in her eyes.

But she wasn’t judging him right now. What lurked in her gaze brought to mind something else entirely.

“What are you saying?” Maybe he’d read her wrong. Didn’t happen often, but it did now and then.

“I’m saying I’ve never had sex. Not all the way.” She reached for her mug and tossed back the rest of the tea, wiping her chin with the back of her hand when some escaped her lips. As if it were on a spring, his cock swelled and stretched for glory. “Maybe I should be like you. More open to all experiences. Find myself a nice whomever and go to town.”

In spite of the tightness in his groin, he grinned. “A nice whomever. Sorry to say, I’m not that indiscriminate.” At her eye roll, he added, “And nice doesn’t have a whole lot to do with what attracts me to someone.”

At least usually. In her case, it did. He’d been attracted to her for years, and the reasons weren’t all physical. She was so funny and sexy and sweet.

Cait was a nice girl. A good girl.

One he’d yearned to taint for so long he’d almost resorted to taping his dick down whenever she was within speaking distance. Another secret withheld between them.

She tipped her head to the side. “So what does? What made you one day look at Tris and say, ‘I want that ass’?” She made a face. “Or vice versa.”

He swallowed and fought the urge to take a step back from the perceptive gaze she trained on him. “Hypothetically,” he began, relieved when she smiled.

It was their little game, the way they revealed things to each other when the topic became too personal. Cait had started it the first time she’d told him about a guy going down on her, and she’d wanted his advice about how to encourage her boyfriend to give her what she wanted. Since then, anytime the conversation turned to intimate topics, they used the word as a signal things were about to get serious.

“Of course.”

“Hypothetically, it may have had to do with us both wanting someone else. At least at first. Now…”

Now everything had changed. If he hadn’t been in love with Tris a year ago—though he was reasonably sure he’d been on the way—he sure as hell was now.

That love was reciprocated, he knew. They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Like the other shared burden they’d avoided discussing since the first night they’d gotten together.

“Someone else.” She nodded briskly. “Someone I know?”

Matt had to smile. God, she could be so endearingly clueless. “Think you might have met her.”

Pain rolled over her face before she composed it. “So it’s a her?”

“Most definitely.” He reached up to cradle her jaw in his palm. Their gazes clashed and held, the air between them hot enough he expected to smell smoke. “Go take a look in the mirror, Cait.”

When her lips fell open, he pressed his advantage and moved in close. He’d waited for this moment, this opportunity, for so long. Maybe it hadn’t been presented to him the way he’d hoped, but he wouldn’t turn away.

If she really didn’t want him, if their occasional flirtations and lingering looks over the years just amounted to the natural offshoot of a guy and a girl spending too much time together, better he know now.

And if he still had any chance of getting her to see another man besides Tristan, he had to make this count.

Instead of going in for the kill, he laid his lips full on hers, absorbing the feel of her beneath him. Erotic images of her being beneath him in other ways filled his mind. Her legs opening for him, locking around his hips as he drove into her until she accepted every inch of him. Until she pleaded for more. Sliding into her so deep that he became part of her, as she became part of him.

He felt her tremble again, but she didn’t shake. The sound that escaped her mouth and slipped into his spoke of pleasure, not fear.

When he extended his fingers into her hair, angling her head backward so he could lick his way inside, she wrapped her tongue around his to invite him in.

Thank God.

The intensity grew quickly, hijacking his plans to go slow. He slanted his mouth over hers and consumed her hungrily, their tongues fighting for dominance while her body revved against his. Her breasts pushed against his chest. Her hands clutched his hips. Their centers locked together. He rocked against the vee of her thighs, and she moaned, her shudder seeping into him while they devoured each other.

How often had he dreamed of the first time he’d taste her? No matter what happened after this, there could be no going back. He’d always remember when she’d tasted of beer and dark excitement, the kind that pushed people to do very bad things.

Like sweeping his arm out and sending the mug on the table clattering onto the floor. Her favorite mug.

Even so the crash barely registered as he picked her up and set her on the table. His patience had vanished in an instant. He hadn’t expected the way her flavor would punch through his system.

He needed more. All of her, raining down his throat.

“I’m only asking because it’s you. Normally I’d say to hell with it and take my shot,” he said, his voice guttural. “I want in those pants of yours, and I’m going to get there. But only if you say yes first.”

To his surprise, she gave him a small smile and rubbed her palm over her wool-clad thigh. “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Is that a yes?”

She paused just long enough to make him want to drop to his knees and say a loud, fervent prayer. “No.” He still hadn’t recovered from her answer when her smile widened. “That’s a hell yes, please.”

He soon found himself on his knees anyway, close enough to her heat to breathe her in. He translated the confusion on her face as he rolled up her dress, revealing her pale legs. No stockings or garters. Just pure, untouched flesh.

Really untouched.

His mouth went dry, and he glanced up to seek her permission again. This wasn’t some random girl he’d hooked up with in a bar. It also wasn’t Tristan, who not only took what he dished out but served it right back up to him.

This was the girl he’d loved so long, platonically and then otherwise, that he hardly remembered the years before she’d come into his life. It felt like she’d always been there.

Always would be.

Trying to get himself back in line, he kissed the inside of her knee. She touched his hair, reaching down to loosen his ponytail like he’d done with hers. She brushed her fingers over the back of his neck, saying more with that one gesture than she could have with a thousand words.

I want you. I trust you. I love you.

He pulled her closer to the edge of the table and registered her heeled boots digging into his ass when she wrapped her legs around him. The wool clung to her skin, but he forced the material out of the way to bare her black and pink panties.

“Polka dots?” he muttered, earning a muffled laugh.

She ran her fingertips over her shoulder. “Matches the bra. Except the bra has cutouts.” Her touch moved to her breasts, narrowing his focus until he groaned and dragged his gaze back to her panties. He reached out to stroke the satin panel between her thighs, closing his eyes at her surprised moan.

Wet. So damn wet.

“I’ve wanted to eat your pussy since you wore that bikini to Tristan’s house party senior year.” He felt her stiffen, but he didn’t stop. If he could put his mouth on it, he could damn well use the word as something other than a curse. “The blue one with the white hearts all over. You were on the couch, spread out asleep after swimming all day, and I saw a little of this.” He tugged on a wispy blonde curl that escaped the confines of her panties. “It made me want to see the rest. To put my tongue right here,” he demonstrated, flattening his tongue against her clit through the fabric, “and make you moan like you are right now.”

Cait’s legs tightened around his back, and her thighs opened farther. “God, I’m so embarrassed. So much for a neat bikini line.”

He stroked the wet curl, then licked it, pulling lightly. She bolted upward as if he’d prodded her with a fiery poker. “I’d figured you’d be shaving now.”

“Waxing,” she corrected, laughing before another lick and press stole her breath.

“Whatever. Mmm, I can taste you even through the fabric. You like having a guy’s tongue here, don’t you?”

“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question.” Her voice had lowered to match his.

He grinned and nipped her soft inner thigh. She whimpered just as he’d wanted. Then he went to work with his fingers, sliding them up and down so that the material soon became saturated with her juices. He yanked her as close as he could get her and buried his face between her thighs, inhaling her with every stab of his tongue against her eager, swollen clit. She pulled on his hair—even harder than Tristan, for God’s sake—and rubbed against his mouth, grinding hard, shameless in her pursuit of her orgasm.

When he’d imagined her in bed, he’d guessed she’d be like this. Not some limp rag doll waiting to be pleased, but a willing, excited participant.

Completely complicit in her own sensual implosion.

What he hadn’t guessed was that she’d come with a long, ragged whimper with hardly any stimulation at all. Her heels beat against him, and her release poured through the fabric, a thick honey he couldn’t swallow fast enough. Through it all, she clutched his hair, bringing him against her, so close that the pulse of her clit beat against his lips.

“Better than I thought,” he whispered, breaking the silence once her panting had subsided.

He sucked in a breath and relished the perfume of her orgasm. He’d given her that. That sweet, tangy scent belonged to him now too.

She nudged him back with a hand on his shoulder, her expression way too intense considering the climax she’d just had. “I was going to ask you or Tris to take my virginity,” she said after a moment, still sounding breathless.

“Oh.” As the full weight of that sank in, he rocked back on his feet. “Either of us? Like whichever tool comes to hand?”

“No. Of course not.” She pursed her lips as if he’d just said something terribly offensive. “I figured we’d decide. As a group. Like we decide everything.” Her throat moved. “We’re best friends.”

“Best friends, right. Makes sense.” He shook his head. Wow, she’d taken her organizational planner life a little too far. “So you’re interviewing candidates. At least you’ve narrowed down the possibilities to two.”

“You’re making it sound—”

“Insane?” Matt shook his head. “No, absolutely not. It’s perfectly rational to ask your best friends which one wants to shoulder the responsibility of popping your cherry.”

“Shoulder? Excuse me? Who just had his tongue in my…”

“Pussy,” he said patiently. “A word you have no problem using when you’re pissed.”

She took a breath and didn’t answer.

“And my tongue was on top of it, not even in. I didn’t get that far.” He ignored the flush that crept up her neck and kept going. “You’re a keg ready to blow, short stuff, and just because you’ve decided whichever one of us is willing to do the deed is good enough doesn’t mean we’ll just go along.”

“Right. Sure. You’ll gladly screw each other, but me? Forget it. Even though you both supposedly wanted me, which is complete crap, and I’m sorry I believed it for even a minute.” She hopped off the table. “Thanks for the orgasm. I appreciate you favoring me with your speedy tongue.”

Regret jabbed his gut. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but dammit, didn’t she get that he’d been hurt? How could she make sleeping with her into something they’d discuss as casually as which movie to rent?

“Cait, wait.”

“I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. We’re done talking. As for what happened with you and Tris, I’m done talking about that too. I don’t want you to tell him I saw you in bed tonight.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s over.” She gave him a thin smile. “Hope you’re very happy together.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” he called after her, but she didn’t halt her rush upstairs.

Matt pulled out a chair and slumped into it.

God, could this mess get any worse?

* * *

Cait didn’t sleep. She curled up in the center of her bed, staring at the wall that separated her from Tristan. Matthew’s set of rooms was on her other side.

Right there, but so far.

In the past, she’d loved knowing her guys were only feet away. Not anymore. Now that knowledge was like a dozen knives slashing open her heart.

They were lovers. They undressed each other, kissed, touched each other’s naked bodies. And then, after all that, one of them thrust in the other’s ass and—

And then what? Did they curl up afterward and murmur endearments? Engage in pillow talk? Or mutter something manly and strut away?

Letting out a soft groan, she covered her face. Her nipples felt as hard and hot as burning coals, and her pulse had yet to stop racing, hours after her fight with Matt.

Then there was what had come after the fight.

Pictures scrolled through her mind. Explicit, erotic pictures of Tristan kneeling between her legs to lick her while Matt poised behind him, his heavy cock in his hand as he inched inside Tristan’s ass. Of her riding Matt while Tristan moved up behind her, his hands rolling up her torso to clutch her breasts while he claimed her from behind.

Way behind. Not just doggy style. She wanted both men inside her, breaching both entrances.

She was a freak. Had to be. Why else would a virgin be interested in leapfrogging right from so-called normal sex into the grand slam of fucking?

After a long, fitful night, Cait took a hot shower and dressed in black pants and a festive red cowl-necked sweater.

It was almost Christmas, dammit, and she was going to be happy if it killed her.

She brushed her long hair to a high sheen, taking care to arrange it around her shoulders. Though she often skipped makeup when she knew she wouldn’t be meeting with clients, today she did her full face. It might be Saturday, but she’d planned on working this morning, and she wouldn’t be dissuaded from doing her job just because she was embarrassed.

What had happened last night in the kitchenette had been the result of shock, hurt, and lust. A dangerous amount of lust, granted, but heavily flavored by other emotions.

At least if they’d had sex, she would’ve accomplished her goal and been done with it, but she hadn’t been thinking straight. Or at all.

She stared at the wall between her and Matt’s rooms. That’s what she should do. March over there before Tris woke up and just climb on top of Matt and finish the deal.

One popped cherry, one magnificent orgasm if she was lucky, and she’d be on her way.

Might as well demand what she needed from Matt. She knew how to make him see things her way. A few sweet words, a couple of descriptions of how wet and hot she’d been all night thinking about him putting more than just his tongue between her legs…

Plus this way Matt would see she was perfectly fine with the guys’ arrangement. They could keep screwing their brains out, and she wouldn’t make a peep.

Well, not fine, but not churned up either. The positive side of Matt and Tris sleeping together was that they had an outlet for all their kinky needs. Which meant there was absolutely no reason on God’s green earth for them to even concern themselves with her.

Then why did he say they had gotten together because they wanted you?

“Horndogs,” she muttered, slamming out of her section before she could think better of her decision to confront Matt.

It wasn’t her style to sit around and think until she got a headache. She dealt with situations. She’d deal with this one head-on too.

Rather than knock, she opened the door and marched into Matt’s living room, then straight on through to his bedroom. If Tris was in there with him, then, well—

She stopped in the doorway and gasped. At least Matt was alone in bed, lying on his stomach so the view she got started with his ass.

He was also naked.

Good goddamn, what a body that man had. Tight buns, long, lean, nicely muscled legs. Golden brown skin that didn’t turn pale even in the middle of winter.

Firm back.

Firmer ass.

Yeah, she was a bit fixated on that part of his anatomy, but who could blame her? Tristan had him on height—and length, from what she’d seen last night—but hoo boy, Matt did well with what he had to work with. Climbing astride that hobby horse would be no problem at all.

Cait threw back her shoulders and walked toward the bed. “Wake up,” she said, picking up his arm and thumping it against the mattress.

Matt made a snuffling noise and turned his head the other way.

She tried not to smile. Thinking about his inherent cuteness would not serve her greater purposes. She leaned down and got really close to his ear. Then she whispered, “Wake up right now and you can fuck me.”

He lifted his head so fast he bumped her nose. “Huh? What?”

Laughing, she dropped down beside him and stroked his messy hair. “Are you hard?”

He rolled over and glanced down at himself before looking back up at her. “Sorry, not at the moment. You should’ve stopped by a little while ago. But really if you want a morning hard-on, you want Tris. He’s the one who wakes up with the mother of all boners.”

All at once, the laughter drained out of her. “You just had to mention him.”

“Yeah, I did. Because he’s part of us. Or have you forgotten that?”

“I didn’t forget anything. What about you? Were you thinking of how it would affect me every time you asked him to put his dick in your ass?”

Matt sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. She slid her gaze to his cock, slid it away. Slid it back again. She shook her head at the immediate liquefying between her legs.

Clearly horny virgins had no shame. Or very little.

“As much as I want to be the one who takes your virginity, Cait,” he dropped his arm and met her gaze only seconds after she’d ripped it from his shaft, “I’m not willing to be a substitute Tris.”

“You’re not.”

“Really. So if Tris had come downstairs to comfort you last night, what would have happened? Here’s what I think. I think you would’ve scampered right up to bed with him and not mentioned anything about us being your virginity snatcher candidates. It would’ve been the Tristan and Caitlyn sexpedition, and to hell with me. And then afterward, you would’ve snuggled in his arms and pretended I didn’t exist, even though the dick inside of you had just been inside me an hour earlier.”

She made herself look straight into his churning brown eyes. “No. I wouldn’t. Because despite this big crush you’re so certain I’ve been harboring for Tris—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Matt said quietly. “Don’t think I haven’t.”

“So how come you didn’t say anything?”

“I figured you weren’t ready to discuss it.”

She brushed back her hair and took in the resolute set of his jaw. Maybe last night he really hadn’t been trying to distract her from what she’d seen. Maybe he’d gone down on her for more than his residual lust from Tris.

Maybe.

Testing them both, she laid her palm on his drum-tight abs and smiled at the way he jumped. She licked her lips and let her gaze drift lower. Other parts of him were apparently keen to respond as well. “I appreciate you giving me space.”

He shrugged. “You weren’t doing anything about it, so I wasn’t going to pry.”

“So we both had a thing for Tristan for a while. A couple of years for me. Not all the time, but enough to make it uncomfortable sometimes.” Matt’s comments about wanting to eat her out since college scrolled through her mind. “What about you?”

“Didn’t we discuss this last night?”

His irritation teased another smile from her. Matt hated talking about feelings. Sex, sports, food, movies, dirty jokes…all game. But feelings? Nope, nuh-uh. “I’m just curious,” she said, tracing the inward slash of his navel. She didn’t miss his quick breath, especially when she used her nails. “How long?”

“I don’t know.” His Adam’s apple jerked when she snapped her attention back to his face. “I’ve been with men before. A couple of times. After a while, I realized I’d stopped seeing Tris as just a buddy. I didn’t do anything about it for a long time, though. And it took a hell of a lot of beer for me to get up my nerve.” He let out a choppy laugh. “I thought he’d kick my ass.”

A retort sprang onto her tongue, but she didn’t voice it aloud. If he was sharing, she wouldn’t ruin the moment with a sarcastic comment. “He didn’t.”

“No.”

“Do you do it a lot?”

“Jesus, Cait.” Again that pained laughter. “You really don’t want to know that, do you?”

“Yeah, I really do.” She pulled up one of her legs underneath her so she could face him squarely. “If you’re not going to shut me up in other ways, you’re going to answer my questions.”

His lips twitched as he cast his gaze to the ceiling as if saying a silent plea for help. “Like what?”

“Like how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

She fought the blush on the verge of blooming across her cheeks. “Anal sex. To have a guy back there.”

This time he didn’t laugh. “Honestly? It feels fucking amazing.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” she said, lacing her fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “From the way you groaned every time he—” She stopped, feeling ridiculous. As many conversations about sex as they’d had, this went beyond. So far beyond, she knew she had no hope of staving off the flush rioting over her face. “Is it better than when you’re with a woman?”

“No. It’s just different. I like both.” He shrugged. “So does Tris, apparently.”

“So you turned him gay,” she ventured.

With a smile, he shook his head. “Hardly. And say it with me. Bi. Not gay.”

“When you’re with him, you’re gay. Right? Labeling it otherwise doesn’t change things.”

“Even when I’m with him, the rest of me doesn’t shut off. Believe me, we’d be happy to have a woman there too. With us.”

His intent expression made her rear back. “You’re not saying you’d like to…with me.” She couldn’t even say the words.

He wanted to have a threesome with her? That was what he’d meant when he said they both wanted her? She’d thought maybe it was a mild interest, a little jealousy thing between them, not unlike what she and Matt had over Tris.

But clearly their fantasies had risen to a whole new level.

“Tristan wouldn’t want that,” she said quietly. “He wouldn’t want to share me.”

Would he?

“You’re so innocent,” Matt murmured, taking her hands in his. “I don’t think I fully realized that till just now. We’ve talked about so much, but you’re still adorably shy.”

“Innocent, adorable, and shy. Thanks for the compliments.”

Chuckling, he sat up and cupped her cheek. “You’re also wickedly sexy, and I want nothing more than to peel off your pants and do what I did last night all over again.”

She pressed her thighs together at the throb in her clit. Oh yeah, she wanted that too. So badly she feared having to change her underwear before she got to work.

“You really think I’m sexy?” she asked, hating the insecurity in her voice.

“Oh yeah.” He turned his face into her hair and took a deep breath. “I get hard every time you look at me, Blue Eyes.”

It didn’t take much effort to glance down and see he wasn’t lying. As far as the rest of their conversation? She wasn’t going there. “So why won’t you just finish the job?”

“And people accuse me of being unromantic. Shit.”

“Is it loyalty to Tris? Did what you—what we did last night count as cheating or something? Are you a couple now?” The questions spilled out of her, stopping only when he eased back and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“We’re not a couple. What we do is just about letting off steam.”

“That’s not true. That’s not what I saw.”

For the first time, he looked away. “It is what it is. We’re not committed to each other, Cait.”

“What do you call it?”

“We still sleep with women, still have girlfriends. And when we do, we’re not together. Neither of us are cheaters.”

“And neither of you want to make what you have permanent.”

His silence gnawed at her, making her jerk away from him and to her feet. “Think I’ll go get some work done.”

He nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

She’d taken a few steps when he spoke again, his voice soft and raw. “Cait.”

Trepidation iced her spine. “What?”

“What about both of us?”

“What about both of you what?” She knew she sounded impatient, but she’d grown tired of this conversation. A full day of work waited for her, and she didn’t want to think about any of this anymore.

Not right now. She was getting a headache.

Matt rose fluidly, not the least bit ill at ease about his nudity. Why should he be? The guy was sexy as hell.

She swallowed hard when he strolled over and tipped up her chin. “You said you wanted it to be one of us who took your virginity. So what if it were both of us?”

“Uh, you can’t lose your virginity twice.”

“You think?” He licked the inside of his lower lip, and her nipples pushed against her bra. “I think you should let us prove otherwise. Let both of us make love to you. Together.”

Cait opened her mouth to answer. She really did. But no words came.

How could he ask that of her? That kind of thing was fine for others, but not for her. She wasn’t the threesome type.

She was almost sure.

Especially not the first time she had sex.

They were her best friends. She wasn’t a juicy piece of chicken they could split up at dinner. It was flat-out wrong.

More wrong than asking them which wanted to be the one to take your virginity?

Her belly quivered, everything south heating so fast that she feared embarrassing herself if she didn’t get out of there. She might just agree to anything he asked.

Especially since she’d already considered it, throughout the long night when she’d twisted and turned in her bed and remembered Matt and Tris together. She’d tried to stop picturing herself with them, but it was impossible. Her mind insisted on inserting her into every explicit scene she conjured up, each more torrid than the last.

Matt leaned in and kissed her lightly. Though his lips scarcely brushed hers, her core contracted as if he’d sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Think about it.”

Then he turned around, whistling, and headed off to the shower.

Before she chased after him, she hurried downstairs to her desk. Music. She needed music. Anything to drown out the voice in her head.

She brought up a Christmas music station online and turned up the volume. Carols would put her in the right frame of mind.

Focus on something else.

Christmas. That worked.

They still needed to get a tree for the office. They’d been so incredibly busy for the last few months that none of them had even had a chance to think of decorating, though that was usually Matt’s job anyway. He got a kick out of stringing garland all over the place and putting up gel clings of angels and snowflakes in the windows. She and Tris always teased him it was obvious he’d missed out on the design gene completely, because anyone with an artistic eye would reject that stuff on sight.

Last Christmas she’d been seeing Gary. So that was around when this had started between them.

Deep in the heart of winter, they’d turned to each other. One night Matt had just reached for Tristan’s zipper and said what the hell and gone to town.

Here, probably. In this very office.

Which of them had taken the other’s cock in his mouth that first night? All that hard, needy flesh, just begging to be licked and stroked. Deep throated. Swallowed.

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against her monitor, unable to erase the pictures forming behind her eyes. God, she was losing it. In a minute, she’d spontaneously orgasm, and then she’d be incapable of denying the truth.

Tristan and Matt being lovers fascinated her.

She wanted to watch them. Wanted to be a part of them.

“Normally you leave fingerprints on the monitor. Now forehead prints? Cripes, Caity, that machine cost over two grand.”

She jolted backward at Tristan’s irritated voice. He stood in the kitchenette, wearing a crisp white Oxford shirt and black dress pants. Though it was still a little wet, his dark hair skimmed his shoulders in perfect waves. As rugged as Matt’s looks were, Tristan’s were classic. He looked like a movie star between takes, with just enough edge to make things interesting. More edge than she’d ever guessed. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a rough lover, but last night had proven her wrong on a lot of scores.

Forest green eyes met hers, then glanced pointedly at the floor. “Who broke your mug?” he asked, his tone immediately softening. “Aww, honey, I’m sorry.”

All at once, the previous evening rushed back, and she hurried into the kitchen.

Wile E. Coyote’s head lay in fat pieces on the hardwood floor. She stared as Tris cleaned up the mess. He swore colorfully while he did it, but he didn’t hesitate.

Her sweet, unselfish friend.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He could often be selfish. But he wasn’t with her.

Never with her.

“Tris,” she whispered, crouching to brush her hand over his hair. Just one quick, illicit touch.

He turned his head, his gorgeous eyes radiating compassion. “I know that was your favorite. I’ll buy you a new one. Where’d you get it again?”

“A shop in California.”

“Oh. Well, they must have a website, right?”

She didn’t think. Her brain threw up a “currently on vacation” sign, and she was left with pure instinct. That instinct made her slide her palm over Tristan’s jaw, still damp from his morning shave, and pull him closer until his eyes were level with hers.

“I want to kiss you,” she murmured, shocked to hear the truth fall from her lips.

Surprise registered on his face, but not only surprise. Anticipation. Desire. Another amazing trio.

“Do you usually ask?”

She stroked his cheek, her gaze darting between the path of her fingers and his soft, expectant mouth. “When it’s you, yeah,” she said, drawing her hand away when all she wanted to do was hold on.

He dropped the paper towels on the floor and shifted to frame her face in his hands. Hands she’d envisioned on her body so many times.

“So do it,” he murmured, leaning in and doing it for her.

At first it was the complete antithesis of the kiss she’d shared with Matthew. That one had been crazy, emotional. Uncontrolled. This was a gentle mating of lips. Soft, sweet, and easy. He didn’t press for her to grant him access, but she gave it, opening for him with a low moan.

When his tongue curled around hers, she shivered. She was already so aroused from the direction of her thoughts that his drugging kisses short-circuited her senses. She slid her hands up his chest to his broad, corded shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as she angled her mouth over his and took the control she knew he was waiting to give.

He swooped in, enfolding her in his strong, steady arms. He tasted so good, like toothpaste and sex. Her mouth explored every nuance of his while the pressure in her belly built. Lazy explorations turned to a mad duel of tongues and lips. She panted, dizzy from lack of oxygen, but she couldn’t have torn herself away from him if her life had been at stake.

As frantic as his mouth was, every bit as wild as hers, his hands didn’t roam her body. They stayed securely on her back while she tried to feel as much of him through his clothes as possible.

More. Just more. It was the only thought she had left.

The noises coming from the coffee machine made them jerk apart. Breath heaving, she dropped her forehead to his and closed her eyes.

What the hell had she just done?

“Morning, kids,” Matt said, his cheerful hello nearly sending her stumbling backward onto the floor. Though her muscles protested from crouching for so long, she still didn’t move. She felt frozen in place. “Sleep well?”

She shot Matt a hateful glance and said nothing. Tristan’s arms held fast around her, keeping her in place. “Guess you didn’t have a chance to start the coffee,” she said to Tristan.

Tristan shook his head. “Hadn’t gotten that far.”

“Figures.”

He ran a hand down her hair as he spoke to Matt. “Finesse, pal. Learn it.”

Cait stared hard at Matt, mentally willing him to remember what she’d said last night.

Don’t say a word.

Matt shrugged and turned away, reaching into an overhead cabinet for a cup. “Sorry. You want privacy, you know where the bedrooms are.”

That got her moving. “I have work to do,” she said stiffly, pushing at Tristan’s biceps.

“Now that’s what I like to hear. Which one of us should drop his pants first?”

“Jesus, Matt. Shut the hell up.” Tris brushed his fingertip over her swollen lower lip, his gaze searching hers. “You okay?” he asked in an undertone. “I’ll get you another mug.”

In spite of the tears one blink away from filling her eyes, she managed to smile. “Sure. Fine. Can I get up now?”

He released her, and she rose unsteadily. “How’d the mug get broken anyway?” he asked, grabbing the dustpan.

Cait glanced at Matt and caught his smug little smile. “I can’t remember.”

Before Matt could make another smart comment, she headed back to her desk. She dropped into her chair and swiveled to face her computer, then clicked open her latest design project.

One stilted attempt at normalcy coming right up.

Tristan immediately engaged Matt in some inane banter about Abe Donnelly’s latest over-the-top demands. She didn’t listen.

Now that she’d made an impossible situation even worse, she was going back to work.

* * *

“She’s a good kisser, huh?”

“What?” His mind on his current crisis—what to order for lunch from the takeout menu in his hand—Tristan almost didn’t hear Matt.

Then his brain clicked into gear, and he turned to glare at his best friend. “What did you just say?”

“Cait. She’s a good kisser. But then we always knew she would be. Don’t think you got past her mouth, but believe you me, the rest of her is just as responsive.”

Before Matt’s words fully pierced the haze in his brain, Tris noted his best friend’s smirk. He’d seen that smirk before. That was the expression Matt wore when he’d set his sights on a new conquest.

Or had already enjoyed one.

In an instant, Tris hurtled out of his chair and pushed Matt against the wall. He lifted his knee, fully intent on shoving it into Matt’s groin. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.

“Not nearly enough. And you might want to mind the knee. You’ll regret it later.”

“I asked you a goddamned question. How do you know what kind of kisser she is?”

“Sit down. You’re hungry and you’re tired, and as usual your testosterone’s doing the talking.” Matt’s jaw popped as he yawned. “We’re both tired. So ease off and I’ll tell you.”

Tris stepped back a fraction. “This is as far as I’m going. Start talking.”

“You’re getting the abridged version. There’s a couple of reasons for that, mainly that she doesn’t want you to know.”

Now he sat. “Why?”

Matt rolled back up to his desk. He resumed whatever he’d been doing, moving his hand in wide swings on the mouse. “You know Cait,” he said dismissively. “Always has her reasons. But in this case, I don’t think she’s altogether wrong. You’re both impossible to deal with. Which is why from here on out, we’re doing this my way.”

Tristan reached for the laminated menu, then let it drop forgotten in his lap. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t concentrate on food at the moment, roaring stomach be damned.

He’d been having enough trouble all morning, between trying to forget the feeling of Caity’s mouth on his and his futile efforts to decipher the thick-as-mud tension between his two partners. Maybe he’d finally figure out just what the hell was going on in his own damn house.

Because something clearly was. Sometime between when Matt had gone downstairs to supposedly call his mother last night and this morning, something had transpired between Caity and Matt.

Whatever it was, that had to be the explanation for Caity kissing him this morning. He’d been turning it over all day, wondering why the hell she’d made a move on him. Why now? He certainly hadn’t minded. In fact, he was already counting the minutes until it happened again.

But still. Something had to have given her a push.

And he had a feeling he was looking at him.

“You kissed her,” Tris stated. “When?”

“Last night.”

“When last night? You were with me last night, if you’ve forgotten.” Even Tristan could hear the undercurrent in his tone. Hell if he could decipher if he was jealous about Matt getting with Cait—or vice versa.

Either way they hadn’t been with him.

“Yeah, I remember.” Matt banged his mouse. “I also remember looking at the doorway while you were cleaning up and realizing we had an observer.”

Tristan fisted his hands on the arms of his chair. “You’re not serious.”

“Deadly.”

“Jesus.” Tris closed his eyes and tried not to imagine what Caity had witnessed. “Did she—is she—”

“She’s all right. Now. She was shocked, but she got over it fast.” Again the smirk, and Tris’s stomach tightened. “I distracted her.”

“How?”

Matt arched a brow and shifted to face him, hands sprawled on his stomach. “Sure you want the gory details?”

“The details of how you clearly left my bed and went to hers? Why not?”

Though he wasn’t altogether sure he did. But he’d be damned if they left him out of the loop any longer.

But instead of Matt spilling, he reached for his soda and tipped it back to his mouth for a long swallow. Then he sighed. “She was pretty pissed and just as much hurt. I came down here to try to explain, but we started baiting each other and things went from there.”

Tris rolled his eyes. As if Matt and Caity sniping at each other was anything new. “Baiting each other about what?”

Matt lifted his head and stared him straight in the eye. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. We made it into a competition about which of us wanted you more. And then we circled around wanting each other. I’m still not really sure where we stand on that score. I mean, I know where I stand, and I know she wants use of my dick, but as for more than that, no clue.”

Tristan shook his head, trying to comprehend what Matt was telling him. “You fought over me. Then you fought over each other. And she wants use of your dick?”

“Yours too.” Matt saluted him with his soda. “Our little Cait has her share of needs, it seems.”

Tris picked up his own bottle of soda and rolled it between his palms. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said softly. “And I’m guessing what you’re leaving out involves sex.”

“Things escalated. But no, we didn’t have sex. She wanted to, though, as part of her big master plan.” Matt shrugged. “Let’s just say she had plans for both of us that went beyond quick kisses and fumbling clutches. And before you ask what kind of plans, use your damn imagination.”

“Already doing that,” Tris replied, his stomach roiling with the pictures his mind insisted on forming.

What exactly had happened? More to the point, what experiences had they shared without him?

He released a long breath. No wonder Caity had been so shocked and hurt. She’d been the one left out of things going on right under her nose, and now he was in that role. And he didn’t like it one bit.

“Anyway, the point is this. She’s ready for us, Tris. We just need to do this the right way. My way.”

“You kissed her. What else?”

“Man, you’re fixated, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

Matt nodded and sipped more soda. “Hell yeah. Let’s just say other parts of her taste as good as her mouth.”

“Not surprised.” With effort, Tristan tried to focus on the conversation and not what parts of Caity Matt had gotten to sample. Lost cause. “You didn’t get her naked.”

“No. But if I could’ve, I would have. And I wouldn’t have felt guilty. She’s been the goal all along. We ended up being a pleasant side trip, but we weren’t planned. Doesn’t mean we can’t alter the plan a bit now, though.”

“Seriously, Matt, I’m way too freaking hungry to try to make sense of what you’re saying. Get to the point, would you?”

And leave me in peace to try to figure out why the hell Caity kissed me.

Beyond the obvious, of course. She was clearly stretching their boundaries, between what had happened with him and from what had occurred with Matt. Whatever the hell that was.

But there was more to it. The kiss this morning had almost felt like a test. He still didn’t know if he’d passed or failed.

Caity had taken off early a short while ago, but she hadn’t said a word about anything but work to either him or Matt all morning. Nor had she flirted or teased or even flipped her hair.

Hadn’t mattered. His dick was still as hard as a damn brick.

He’d had her in his arms. Her peachy scent still clung to his skin. Their kiss had taken the many fantasies he’d had of her and destroyed them. None of them could hold a candle to the reality of Caity’s lips heating under his and hearing her soft, sweet moans.

“Her birthday’s next weekend.”

“I know that.” Impatience oozed from Tristan’s voice. “Your point?”

“I want the three of us to go up to my cabin.”

“Okay,” he began, belatedly catching the intensity of the look in Matthew’s eyes. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“Absolutely. She wants us. And we’re going to give her what she can’t admit she needs, but first we’re going to play hard to get. No more kisses. No more looks. When she comes back in here tonight, treat her like one of the guys.”

“No. I’m not doing this to her. She has no clue what she’s playing with.”

“Tristan.” Matt’s sharp command made him suck in a breath. “She’s shy, and she’s innocent, but she doesn’t want to be. Trust me on that.”

“Caity shy?” He couldn’t hold back the laughter. “Since when?”

“Since I asked her this morning to give herself to both of us, for a start.” Matthew banged his mouse hard enough to make Tristan wince. They were always fucking with the equipment.

Which had been important, oh, a few hours ago. Now he had much bigger problems.

“You asked her to what? Are you fucking crazy? She isn’t ready for—” Words failed him, and he tensed his fingers around his soda until the plastic buckled. “She’s just not.”

Matthew wheeled away from his desk and faced Tristan across the few feet that separated their workstations. “She knows about us, and she still came on to you this morning. You didn’t kiss her, did you?”

Tristan shook his head numbly, still trying to process everything. “No. I startled her, and then I saw she’d broken her mug… No. I didn’t kiss her.”

“She knows we’re lovers, and she’s turned on by it. She’s curious. And there’s no way in hell I’m losing this opportunity to go after what we need. All three of us.” Matt’s voice lowered. “You’re not going to argue with me, got it? And if you don’t, I can promise you we’ll have what we always wanted: Cait.”

Reason demanded he argue. Tristan always argued. Just because Matt directed everything behind the scenes at TD didn’t mean he knew jack about dealing with women outside of the bedroom. His many failed relationships proved that.

But then again, so did Tristan’s. And he was desperate.

He’d finally tasted Caity. How was he supposed to forget that?

Tristan closed his eyes and blew out a breath. When he opened them again, Matthew’s gaze was still fixed on his. “Tell me the plan.”