Chapter Three

 

Not with her…

Jen wasn't sure what she was feeling as Trick drove her back to her apartment, so she kept her thoughts to herself. He was quiet too. Either he was respecting her need for space or he was afraid of giving her an opening to tell him off.

It was probably for the best. She knew he hadn’t been planning to end up in Leroy’s room, flat on his back with Declan… He loved games, but he wasn’t that cruel. On the other hand, he really should have tested the waters before he spent months seducing her with promises of the world’s most erotic ménage. Should have talked to the man he was obviously intimate with about the expectations he’d given her, and made sure Declan was open to it before she made a fool of herself flirting with him for months.

Not with her.

Jennifer ran a hand through her tangled hair. She was angry and hurt, and trying not to let it give her an inferiority complex¸ but more than anything else, she was disappointed. She’d gotten her hopes up way too high and now she was paying the price.

It wasn’t Declan’s fault he didn’t want her—he didn’t know her that well and he had a right to say no as much as she did—but the letdown was epic. After watching that scene on the bed, she would have gladly torn off her damp clothes and joined them right then. Leroy’s wrath would have been worth it for five minutes of Declan Kelley’s undivided attention, especially the kind of attention he’d given Trick.

The saying, Those who can’t do, teach, was now utterly disproven. This teacher knew exactly what he was doing when it came to sexual behavior. When he took charge of Trick, something inside her had instantly submitted, as if she were the one he had pinned down for his pleasure.

His dominance came as a surprise. Trick had always struck her as the prime example of an alpha male. He ran the show. Except, apparently, when the restrained psychology professor was on top. Then he seemed more than willing to submit. Declan wasn’t the tamed one. He was a caged beast, but when he got free…

She pressed her thighs together. She shouldn’t have been watching, but she hadn’t been able to look away. Nothing at the club, on the free online sites she would secretly visit when she was supposed to be studying on her laptop, no fantasy plucked from her mind or the pages of a steamy romance novel—none of it had prepared her for the raw, animalistic sexuality that both men had exuded as they came together.

It was clearly an erotic battle Declan was used to winning. She’d envied Trick in that moment. She’d wanted to move closer so she could see everything, but she hadn’t dared—something she was glad of when he confronted Trick mid-act about his plans for them.

Not with her.

Why not? What was wrong with her? Was she not curvy enough? Did he think she was too inexperienced? She could have rocked those glasses off his smug, sexy face if she’d wanted to. If he’d been wearing them. The point is he would have loved it.

Not with her.

Trick turned the car’s engine off and Jen looked around in surprise. They were at her apartment. That was that then. They’d literally given it the old college try and failed. At least Trick had gotten laid. Someone deserved to be happy about the evening.

She reached for the door but his hand stopped her. “Jen, wait.”

Pulling away from his hand, she glared at him, her anger flaring up to protect her from another rejection. She couldn’t take one from him too. Not tonight. “I don’t think we need a play-by-play. It didn’t work out. Maybe you should let him pick out your third next time. That way everyone will be happy.” She shook her head and sighed, hating how mean-girl that sounded. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I think I forgot why I’d sworn off men the first night you came into my room. It took a few months, but I remember now.”

She launched out of the car and did her best to storm off with dignity in her Star Wars slave-girl dress, working off some frustration by stomping up the stairs to her building and mumbling to herself. She was suffering the sting of Declan Kelley’s rejection, horny and jealous that they’d both had sex and she hadn’t, and she was one hundred percent certain Leroy was going to notice the lube spot on his carpet.

Ice cream. She needed ice cream.

Her keys jangled in her trembling hands, but she managed to unlock the door and slip inside. She was just about to give the door a satisfying slam when Trick grabbed it and forced it open.

Suddenly breathless, Jen darted back and held up her hand in warning. “Stop right there. I mean it, Trick. I’ve let you get away with a lot of breaking and entering because I’m a masochistic jerk magnet in dire need of therapy, but it ends now. Your foreplay fetish is not worth what happened, and you could have prevented that if you’d bothered to ask what other people wanted. I swear I’ll call my cousins to arrest you if you don’t turn your ass around and go.”

“Solomon and James?” Trick kicked the door closed behind him and started stalking her, a hard smile on his lips. “Call them.”

“I will this time,” she declared. “This isn’t fun anymore.”

He winced at her words but didn’t retreat. “We both know exactly what will happen.”

“You’ll get thrown in jail.”

He nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll just call your brothers.”

Shit. They would. That’s exactly what they’d do.

“You’d hate what would happen afterward, Jen. The same thing that happened right after your fiancé got run out of town.”

She remembered too well. The looks they’d given her. The concern and pity. The disappointment after her arrest. 

“You’re a grown woman,” Trick continued. “You don’t need them interfering with your personal life again.”

“Don’t try to manage me. Brady’s not a cop anymore,” she blustered. “I could get him over here right now and he wouldn’t tell a soul. He doesn’t like you.”

“Your cousin loves me, he just won’t admit it.” Trick’s lashes lowered over brilliant, knowing green. “I’m a handy guy to have around. But you don’t get to bother him. He and Tanaka are elbow deep in serious shit—that is, when they aren’t balls deep in each other. What they’re involved in isn’t allowed to touch you, so that option’s off the table. Come on, Little Finn. Don’t you think you’re tough enough to handle me without backup? Talk to me. Yell at me. Hit me. I can take it.”

“I don’t want to handle you. Not right now.” She sighed and shook her head. He was so frustrating. “You should have talked to him before this happened.”

He ran his hands through his hair, making the short ends stand up. “Yeah, I didn’t think everything through. But you don’t know him like I do. You don’t know how much he wan—”

“Fuck what he wants, what about me?” She slid off her heels and walked into the kitchen, keys still clenched in her hand. “You made me… I didn’t like feeling that way. What he said—”

“He wasn’t thinking straight.”

He followed her and she turned to point in his direction. “You weren’t thinking straight. You, Trick.”

He backed up, defensive. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure you do.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked away from him again, needing the distance. “You love him. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about him. And you clearly both want each other.” God, did they want each other. “I saw how much tonight. Maybe you were feeling like you needed to bring more to the relationship. Something or someone else. You’ve been watching me, for a reason you still haven’t revealed, and you know what I like, so of course, I was the obvious choice.” She took a steadying breath so she wouldn’t cry. “But you have nothing to worry about, Trick. He looks at you the way my brother looks at Jeremy. The kind of look that makes other people feel like leaving the room or finding an ice bath to sit in. You don’t have to find a third, Trick. And honestly, it wouldn’t be fair to them.”

They’d only end up alone and hurt that they’d been locked out of something that beautiful.

She glanced at him in time to see his scornful look. “That’s what you got from what happened tonight? I’m an insecure jerk who just wants Declan to love me? I used you because you happened to be in my line of sight? After reading all those textbooks of yours, that’s the best you’ve got?”

She was trying to rationalize it in her mind, she knew. To make sense of Trick’s dogged pursuit and Declan’s quick rejection. “All I’ve decided is that this strange relationship of ours is unworkably one-sided. You never told me how close the two of you were. You didn’t fill me in on exactly how little he knew about your idea. It was fine when we were in bed at night pretending. It was exciting and forbidden. But it’s not… This is too complicated.”

Trick sighed. “Shit, this was not my plan, Jen. How do I make this right?”

“Do you want to tell me about the deadline? Why you pushed him so hard? Pushed us?”

After long minutes of silence she took a deep breath and moved away from the counter. “That’s what I thought. I have to get out of this stupid dress and burn it. I think you should leave.”

“No.”

She threw up her hands. “Then there’s beer in the fridge and I’ll be expecting you to tell me about you and Declan Kelley when I get back. Those are your only options.”

When Jen went to move past Trick, he grabbed her and she gasped as he pressed her against the wall, rubbing his hardening erection against her back. She reached behind her to push him away but he gripped her wrist and held it still, ripping the back panel of her dress with his other hand until it was dangling by a frayed thread. “An ultimatum? You mean if I don’t tell you, you won’t let me do this?”

“Trick,” she cried when his thick fingers slid inside her panties and one of them filled her without warning. She was still aroused, despite her anger. And he knew exactly what she liked. How to play her body perfectly. He’d been practicing for months. “You should stop.”

She wished she meant it.

“You know what to say if you really want me to stop, Jen. You know, but you never do.”

Their safe word. The one he’d given her that first night he’d come into her room. The one he reminded her of like a challenge or a dare. The one she never used.

“Will you say it now?” He added another finger and curled them inside her, pressing deep and massaging in a way that had her moaning against the wall. His thumb slid through her arousal and then it was pressing between the cheeks of her ass. When he forced it through the tight muscles, she swore and he laughed darkly. “What about now? Do you want to say it now, baby?”

“Oh God.”

“That’s not it.”

Don’t stop.

An image of Declan taking Trick filled her mind and her hips tilted, pushing back into his hand and forcing his thumb deeper. This ass is mine, Declan had said, the bed shaking while Trick begged for more. She wanted to feel that. Wanted Trick to take her right now. No fingers, no toys, but all of him stretching her, owning her. Showing her what Declan made him feel. “Please.”

“You love it too much to make me stop,” he whispered, his sandpaper voice full of desire. “I don’t have confidence issues, baby. I know you love what I do to you. Whatever I do to you.” He thrust deep. “Tell me to stop.”

“No!” She couldn’t. Not when he was touching her this way.

“I don’t sneak into your room at night, slip under your covers and have my way with this sweet pussy and tight little ass just because you’re there damn it.” He bit her neck sharply, making her gasp before he spoke again. “And I don’t do it for or because of Declan. I can’t stay away from you. Me.”

He let go of her hand and pulled her hips back until she bent at the waist, clinging to the wall for balance. His thumb left her and she felt his finger caress her clit before coming back to fill her ass. The others slid further inside her sex. Deeper. Everywhere. He was everywhere. “Trick.”

“I want you.” His voice was a guttural rasp. “You don’t know hard it’s been for me to keep these boundaries in place. And you don’t make it any easier, baby. You take everything and beg for more without hesitation. I touch you and you open for me.” He added a second finger to her ass and she blew out a ragged, moaning breath, overwhelmed by the pressure and fullness.

“That’s right,” he crooned. “Open for me. Damn, that’s pretty. You were made for this. Made to be filled front and back. If my plan hadn’t gone sideways in your friend’s room—”

“Your plan wasn’t to be fucked?” she gasped, unable to help herself. “From the way you were shouting, it sounded like you were getting exactly what you wanted.”

What she wanted.

Trick’s hands grew rough, his movements a little faster, adding a slight pinch of pain. God, yes. Like that.

“Did you like seeing that? I didn’t plan it,” he said harshly. “I wanted it, but I didn’t plan it to go that way. You were the reason he went so crazy—”

“I don’t care, Trick,” she cried. “I don’t care, just don’t stop.”

“Jesus, you’re killing me,” he muttered hotly. “Greedy girl. You’re so tight, baby. You’re going to feel so good gripping my cock.”

“Please.” She wanted that so much she ached. “Do it, Trick. Fuck me. You don’t have to wait anymore. Just take me. Take me the way he took you.”

As soon as she said it she climaxed, muscles clenching and her body quaking as her orgasm crashed against her. Her knees were like jelly, and it felt like his touch was the only thing keeping her from turning to a puddle on the floor.

When the waves settled to ripples, he backed away, slipping out of her and leaving her empty. Shivering. He went to the sink and washed his hands, then opened her refrigerator and took out a cold beer while she slid around on the wall to watch him.

He wasn’t looking at her, but the hand on the beer wasn’t entirely steady. “Go change. When you come back I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Jen hugged herself and walked to her bedroom obediently. She washed off her makeup and brushed her teeth in the bathroom, putting her hair up into a ponytail before finding a pair of plaid boxer shorts and a faded, overstretched t-shirt.

Fuck lace panties—after the night she’d had, she’d be damned if she wouldn’t get comfortable.

When she finally came out again he’d made a glass of iced tea and heated up a slice of pizza for her.  “That’s all that was in your fridge,” he said with an apologetic shrug.

“Raoul usually does the shopping but he was busy getting ready for Belize.” She grinned. “He also usually does the cooking.”

“Lucky Alicia.”

“Lucky me for having her as a roommate. I think she’s used to being pampered. Her family is at the ‘I own a desert island’ level of wealthy.”

“Nice. I own a star. I think. Some little girl brought me a plaque after I found her runaway dog.”

“That’s so sweet. Damn. I have nothing to compare that to.” Jen frowned, joining him on the couch. “I study hard. I complain about my family. Every Finn dinner and Finn Again I bring home a copious amount of leftovers. That takes talent and stealth, let me tell you.”

She leaned forward, picking up the hot pizza and taking a generous bite. Trick pushed a stray hair behind her ear as she chewed.

“You’re gorgeous, Jennifer Finn. Just like this. Beautiful, did you know that?”

Her cheeks heated and she looked down at her food. She wanted to ask why she wasn’t good enough to sleep with if she was so damn gorgeous, but after she swallowed, she just murmured her thanks and then took another bite.

“You don’t know. Really? I mean all the Finns are attractive specimens, but they seem to know it. Why don’t you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think I’m hideous or anything. I’m not saying I wouldn’t kill for a little shimmy in my shake. I’d like Tasha’s curves and Owen’s luck, but I do okay.”

“Did Scott ever tell you?”

She set down her pizza. Thinking about her ex always made her lose her appetite. But she wanted to tell Trick. Maybe if she opened up, he’d return the favor. “He didn’t speak a lot as a rule,” she replied dryly. “Unless he was complaining.”

“You were with him for a long time. He must have had a few redeeming qualities.”

So everyone claimed. Even her friends in high school gave Scott the benefit of the doubt for her sake. Surely Jennifer Finn wouldn’t be with him if he weren’t something special. Her brothers would have sent him packing. But she was, and they didn’t. She wiped her mouth, took a sip of her tea and turned to meet his gaze. “You want the truth? I warn you, it’s kind of sad and clichéd.”

“Tell me.”

“I was shadowing the nurse and school counselor for a report in my last year of middle school. They were my two role models. Compassionate, but tough. Intelligent though incredibly underappreciated, in my opinion. Scott came into the nurse’s office with injuries. A lot. He’d say he fell or got into a fight with a bully, but no one really believed him. It was obvious he was being abused at home. He came in to see the counselor and we started talking while she was on the phone. Back then, he seemed more sad than angry, but I made him smile.” She shrugged. “He wasn’t with me because I was Jennifer Finn or because I was pretty. He needed me. No one had ever relied on me or trusted me with anything before. It was that simple. And in the beginning, I helped. He smiled more. The fact that he didn’t idolize my brothers the way every other male of the species seems to was also a nice change. At first.”

“Florence Nightingale Syndrome?” Trick queried, stealing a circle of pepperoni off her pizza.

Jen snorted. “You need to stop auditing classes. Especially if you’re going to play on your phone instead of pay attention.” She tilted her head, thinking. “It was dysfunctional. But by the time I realized it, being his girlfriend had become a habit. A security blanket. No one asked who I was dating or worried about what time I got home. No one liked him, and my brothers gave me a hard time, but I guess they considered him harmless. ‘As long as I was happy’ was what my mother would say whenever they got too out of hand.”

“No one noticed you weren’t?” Trick’s expression was disbelieving.

“It’s not that simple,” she defended. “They noticed I wasn’t unhappy. He made a lot of mistakes with his own life, and we fought, but he never actually hurt me.”

“You deserve so much more than that.”

“I’m not sure I did back then. I still defended him every time he did something wrong. Every time anyone tried to talk to me. Even when I knew they were right.”

“Because you have a good heart, Jen. You wouldn’t be working toward getting this degree, to spend your life helping people if you didn’t.”

Or she was a sucker with horrible taste in men. “Sometimes I think it was just stubborn pride. I wanted to be right about him. I wanted to save him. Change him. But no one can do that. I mean, I know people can change, but it has to be their choice. They have to put in the work. You can’t drag someone kicking and screaming down the path you think they should go.”

She saw Trick shift uncomfortably and knew he’d understood what she was trying to say. “It all worked out in the end, though. Stephen’s happy, Owen’s happy, Seamus is usually happy, though I wouldn’t mind him having an actual date once in a while. And Scott is gone and forgotten, having taught us all a valuable lesson in monitoring our public displays of affection. Problem solved.”

“You didn’t add yourself to the everyone’s happy list.”

She’d be happy as long as Scott was living in a box somewhere complaining about his shitty life to his only friend, Dead Cat. But she didn’t need to say that out loud. It sounded petty.

“I’m happy everyone is happy.” She patted his knee before getting up to take her plate to the kitchen. “Thank you for that. I was starving.”

Jen depressed a button at the base of the trashcan with her toe and tossed the paper plate and napkin inside. When she turned around, Trick was right beside her.

“I’m thirty-eight.”

She wondered vaguely if he’d hit his head. “Yes, I know. I’m twenty-six.”

“I have a record, and that’s something that kind of runs in the family. My father died in prison and I was raised by my older brother—who is currently serving a life sentence—but I haven’t been in serious trouble with the law since I got out when I was twenty-two.”

She’d known he’d been in prison before. The rest was new. “Okay.”

“I got my Associate’s in Criminal Justice online, the same for my P.I. certification. I wanted to be my own boss and help the helpless, like some dark, sexy vigilante, but the truth is, most of the time I’m just taking pictures and spying on people for money. That is, when I’m not doing favors for friends who don’t pay me a dime.” He cupped the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s not a career choice most would make willingly, unless they loved film noir or were writing the Great American Novel.”

“Are you?” she asked softly, noticing how nice he smelled. Like sex. His scent mingled with Professor Kelley’s. Declan’s. Tristan and Declan. Those were two lyrical names. They sounded good together. They looked good together.

Stop forgetting you’re mad at him.

“Am I what?”

“Writing a great big novel?”

He shook his head, stepping closer. “Don’t have the patience for a whole book. Or the skills to make it great. I do write a little when the job is really boring and I’m tired of playing Sudoku. Dirty limericks for nights at the bar.”

Oh, he had skills. So many skills. And she had a feeling his job was way more exciting than he made it sound. “Why are you telling me this?”

Trick’s hands found her hips through the plaid cotton. “You shared something personal, I shared something personal… We’re sharing.”

“I shared something personal.” She slid her fingers underneath his shirt and curled them into the fine hair on his chest. His eyes closed momentarily. “You’re not sharing, Trick. You’re lowballing.”

Green eyes opened in surprise. “I’m what?”

Jen smiled and yanked his chest hair a little harder than necessary. She lowered her voice, adding a rasp as close to his as she could make it. “I’m old, I live in my car and I have horrible taste in clothing.” She tried not to laugh as she mimicked him. “I can’t commit to a novel or ringing doorbells or actual sexual intercourse so don’t start shopping for dresses or expect me to be nice to your mother.”

Trick stepped back and crossed his arms, staring at her in disbelief. Then he started to laugh. A real, full-throated, down-to-his-muscled-belly laugh that made him clutch his sides.

It was a wonderful sound. Contagious. Jen couldn’t help but join him.

Her chuckles changed to a shriek when he reached out and picked her up in his arms, ignoring her feet paddling air as he carried her back to the couch and sat with her legs on either side of his hips.

Cupping her face with his hands, he smiled tenderly, his eyes sparkling. “You think I have horrible taste in clothing?”

“Everyone thinks that.” She pushed out a small breathless laugh before leaning into his hand. “And you need to invest in an iron, but you don’t have to keep my expectations low by making yourself sound worse than my ex—which isn’t possible, by the way. I’m not looking to be saved or swept off my feet.” She put her hands on his chest, over his heart. “I like this though. It might be the longest we’ve talked since you started stalking me. Though you still haven’t told me about you and Declan. Or why you were watching me in the first place.”

Trick sighed. “Noticed that, did you?”

She nodded, settling in and resting her hands on his shoulders. “Tell me something. Anything. Share.”

He studied her in silence for so long she wanted to scream. Then he dipped his chin in agreement. “All those things about me? All that lowballing? It’s all true, Jen. Your family knows it. Declan wears rose-colored glasses where I’m concerned, but I think that’s because I keep it light. Keep it short. Weekend Trick is fun, day-to-day Dunham? Not so much.”

“Well, you can be irritating and you’re so used to dancing around the truth you could medal in it, but I’d probably miss you if you weren’t around.”

“Thank you?” He shook his head. “You need to stop with all this flattery, Jen. It’s going to my head.”

She wasn’t going to let him distract her. “So you two have a come-and-go relationship? You come, you go?”

Trick grimaced. “It doesn’t sound good when you say it like that, but yeah. We’ve been like that since we were in our twenties.”

“All the way back then?” she gasped melodramatically.

“No teasing or I’ll spank you again.”

Jen shivered in his arms. “Why?”

“Why do I come?” he asked, gripping her hips and dragging her closer. “You know him. He’s beautiful, brilliant, challenging, and sexually twisted in the best way.”

She bit her lip. “Why do you go?”

Trick frowned. “He doesn’t trust himself. He has too many rules. He doesn’t know how to have fun.”

He was rocking her against his erection. How was she supposed to concentrate?

“He seemed to have fun with you,” she pointed out. Declan’s sounds of pleasure were going to haunt her fantasies. “You obviously trust him.”

“Mmm, I did. I always do. And yes, we always enjoy each other.”

She loved the way he said that. “Too many rules?”

He nodded, glancing down as he guided her in a rhythm that felt a lot like third base. Maybe fourth. She wasn’t sure.

“A little like your brother, Stephen, I think,” he said. “Whereas I embraced my shady past, those two had the gall to rise above it. To make something of themselves. But that takes discipline, I’m told. That road has rules that must be followed.”

She thought she knew what he meant. The only time—other than this—when she’d strayed from her structured Little Finn path, it had ended in handcuffs. And not the good kind. “Was… Oh.” She gripped his shoulders more tightly and took charge, rocking her hips against him and increasing the pressure. His jeans were rough through her cotton boxers, rubbing against her in just the right way. “So Declan was like you and Stephen? Was he in your group?”

“We weren’t a boy band, Jen, we were troublemaking punks.” Trick sounded amused. “And God no. Declan was as far away from the streets as you can get. But until he was eighteen, he had to suffer through regular family visits with the Kelleys. His cousins made our little gang look like a boy band. And man, did they hate the Finns.”

“What? Why?” Her attention immediately shifted from Trick’s jeans to his words, and she stopped her impromptu bump-and-grind to pay attention.

He frowned at that. “Your grandpa and theirs had some Irish mob drama that the Kelleys never let go of. No one ever told you any stories?” When she shook her head, he sighed. “Ned Finn and Rod Kelley were friends at one point, then they weren’t. Honestly, there’ve been so many tales over the years, there’s no way to know which ones are true. But Kelleys blame the Finns for everything bad that happens in the world. It’s just a habit now, harmless unless you have to eat dinner with it once a week.”

Like Declan did. “So Declan hates Finns? Me? Why would you—”

“No, Jen, no. He doesn’t hate Finns at all. He’s just not used to… those kinds of relationships, I guess. Once his mother died, he cut off all ties with his father’s family because of how miserable they were. And his mother didn’t have any family left for him to know.”

“He doesn’t have anyone?”

“He has me.”

“Off and on?”

Trick nodded, looking grim.

Jennifer couldn’t imagine it. Everywhere she turned she saw someone she was related to. Two family dinners a month, babysitting, wedding planning, nights at the pub… She’d been struggling to have something belong to her that wasn’t connected to her family. How would it feel to have no connections at all?

Was that why Trick had hatched his plan? “What started you thinking about ménage?”

“I’m a man, Jen. I was born into this world, I cried when they spanked my ass, and then I started thinking about it.”

She laughed. “You know what I mean. If it wasn’t to please Declan, then why?”

He looked down, obviously trying to find the words. “It’s not for any one reason or any one person. That first day in his class, I knew. It was a damn light bulb over my head. How I feel about you. What I feel for him and what I know he wants. Your fantasies and responsiveness. It was perfect. It is perfect.”

“How do you feel about me?”

And why had she asked him that, dammit? She didn’t mean to put him that much on the spot.

Trick pushed up her shirt and stared at her breasts, watching the nipples harden beneath his gaze. “The first time I saw you walking to your car to get your bag, I was wondering what Stephen’s baby sister was doing wearing an outfit like that in public. Little leather shorts that barely covered your ass and fishnet stockings.”

Embarrassed, Jen pulled her shirt down. “It was the club parking lot, not a church picnic. Everyone was dressed like that.”

“I was close enough to see the black electrical tape that covered your nipples under your white pullover, and I knew as soon as you went back inside that shirt would be off so everyone could see.”

He was that close? She’d never seen him.

“You had a smile on your face and your hair in braids… I don’t think you know what a turn-on that is to a guy, baby. That contrast. Innocence and sin all wrapped up in one beautiful woman. I only saw you walking to and from your car, but I swear I wasn’t thinking about Declan that night. I was thinking about that tape. Wondering what it would be like to look down at you on your knees with nothing but that tape over your nipples and those sexy shorts. What it would be like to touch those braids and see you smile at me.”

Her mouth went dry. “Oh.”

“Months of following you around, and though I still dream about that outfit, your sass is what really slays me now. Your strength and your fearless sensuality. If you want something, you go after it. And you have a hunger that reminds me of…”

“Declan,” she finished.

Leaning close, he took one nipple into his mouth over the fabric of her shirt, sucking hard, making her buck against him. Then he drew away and nodded as he took in his handiwork. “I thought if anyone could help me break through his rules, it would be you.”

“He said no, Trick. It doesn’t get clearer than that. He doesn’t want me.”

His piercing gaze pinned her. “Declan Kelley wants you so bad it’s almost painful for me to watch.”

“Um, were we at the same party? Because I don’t remember it that way.”

“Baby, don’t you know a man running scared when you see him? What happened in that room was all about you. Well,” his smile was sinful. “That’s why it started. He knows he’s cooked—he’s just denying the fire as long as he can. I gave him eight weeks to hold out and he thought he’d resisted temptation, but you, Jennifer Finn, were made to tempt him.”

“How’s that?” she asked doubtfully. Trick had given Declan eight weeks to hold out, and her eight weeks to get so turned on she’d be ready for anything. He was wicked. Smart, but wicked.

“You exist. You’re his Crackerjack prize for being a really good boy. A passionate, kinky, smart and beautiful redhead who loves three-ways and thinks man-on-man action is sexy.”

“How do you know I love three-ways? Strictly speaking, I’ve never had one.” She pushed him back against the couch, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Did he really believe Declan wanted her that much? Did he want her that much?

“How do I know? Who’s been sneaking into your bed, making you come for almost two months now?”

Jen sighed. “All that tells you is I’m easy and I respond to foreplay.”

His eyes burned with something that made her ache. “You’re not easy, sweetheart. You just know what you want. Which is why I’m hoping some part of you wants to give me another chance. Give Declan another chance.”

Did she? Tonight was a painful lesson in disappointment. She still wanted them both—she’d be lying if she said she didn’t. But were Trick’s words of encouragement enough to make it worth giving this ménage a second chance?

She thought about Declan’s expression as he pinned Trick down.

“Tell me what you want me to do next.”