Her Billionaires(86)

“Oh, my God.” No wonder Dylan had made a funny face when Josie’s name had come up last night. Mike’s arched eyebrows without a smile had made her wonder as well. What in the ever-loving hell did they think of her best friend? And how did this reflect on how they viewed her? The night had been nice. Just nice. And just nice was exactly what she’d needed after far too many nights of surprise, shock, passion and boundary pushes. Breaks. Annihilations.

Having a few boundaries in place where affection, banter, food and fun were all that were expected of the night had been refreshing.

And now Josie...

She wagged a finger in Josie’s face. “No more foursome tests. Or jokes. Or—ewww.” She shuddered. “And no more going behind my back to tell them how I feel.”

“Someone has to.”

“Has to what?”

“Tell them how you feel. And frankly, if you won’t do it, I will.”

Laura plunked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “Why? Who appointed you the keeper of my feelings?”

“Ryan.”

Jolt. “You don’t see me sabotaging your relationships!”

“I’m not sabotaging anything, Laura! I’m saving your relationship. S. Relationships. Well, it’s one, but with two guys. Where is Miss Manners’ Plural Guide to Threesomes?”

This was getting out of hand. “To answer your original question, no. I don’t have to kiss one and then the other. I asked.”

“You asked!” Josie clapped her hands gleefully. “Did they hand you a neatly printed manual on how to have a perma-threesome?”

Glare. “I wish you came with a user’s manual so I could find your off switch.”

Smirk. “You’re not the first person to say that to me.”

Sigh. “And I won’t be the last.”

Josie reached for her hand, the gesture one of caring. “Laura. Seize this. Accept it. Yes, it’s crazy. No, no one has words to describe it. And yes, I did go behind your back and tell them about you—because someone needed to. They’re really great guys. You know that. Don’t blow this.” She released her hand and stood.

“Are you really jealous?” Laura squeaked out, surprised by Josie’s tenderness.

“Jealous? Hell, yes. I don’t want to take it away from you, of course.” She grabbed an apple and headed toward the door. “I just wouldn’t mind finding two guys like that for myself.”

The door shut on her words. Sip. The coffee tasted better than normal. Calming and soothing yet putting her on alert to start the day. Stretching, her arms reached high and her shirt rode up a bit, exposing a thin expanse of belly flesh. Not wearing a bra, her breasts rubbed against the thin cloth of her cotton jersey, her pajamas loose and comfortable. The day was about to start and work loomed large.

Last night she’d left their apartment after watching a stupid comedy she’d picked simply because she’d already seen it the previous week, with Josie. Picking something she’d seen made sense, giving her the mental space to go through an hour and a half squished between Mike and Dylan, trying to figure out how to just be as, well—three.

Those ninety minutes, followed by gorging themselves on an amazing tiramisu Dylan had hand crafted, were like living in parallel. Half of her just enjoyed every minute, the domestic normalcy easier to sink into than she’d imagined.

The other half was the problem: judging. Questioning. Analyzing. Poking.

Doubting.

If she could just quell that half of her then this could work. Really work.

Where was her off switch? Her user’s manual? All she needed was the good half. The half that believed, that turned toward healing and tenderness and love in whatever form it took.

Meanwhile, both halves needed a shower. She had another threesome in mind right now: her, Mr. Showerhead, and Bob, her battery-operated boyfriend. That was a threesome both halves of her could get behind.

And now she didn’t have to fantasize about faceless lovers with their hands and mouths all over her. She had a very real memory to draw on.

And a very real promise of so much more. Hers for the taking, in fact, if she just reached out.

She reached out, alright. Turned on the shower, grabbed Bob, and slipped out of her jammies as the water heated up. The first spray of water hit her, tickling her shoulder with little wet pin pricks, and soon her head was under the water, her hair soaking fast as the water wended its way down her body. Ah, how different her hands felt against her own skin today. No sex last night; they’d ended the evening with warm hugs and tentative kisses, each man waiting his turn for a moment with her. It had been sweet. Mellow.