Mastered By The Mavericks(59)

Rebel stabbed her with eyes full of pure cobalt sex.

While ramming his tongue down Rhett's throat.

And growling deep as she screamed out, blasted by the explosion of her orgasm.

The shockwaves went on, wave after wave of heat and bliss, tearing her  apart before bringing her back to herself, only to sweep her back into a  sea of fire and fury from which she never wanted to be rescued. That  was all before Rhett and Reb started pumping harder, faster, longer,  transforming from wind and mountain into hurricane and earthquake,  groans layering as their climaxes struck damn near in tandem.

It was one of the most incredible moments of her life.

Followed by one of the most devastating.

How would they move on from this? How would she? How would she get up  from this bed, cover herself, and even step outside the door again, when  everything in her soul was still stripped naked, exposed as never  before?

And why did she never want to cover it back up again?

So much that she'd never dreamed of or hoped for.

So much of exactly what she'd feared.

Ecstasy. Vulnerability. Pain. Pleasure.

Weakness.

The guys fell into equally thick silence. She could almost hear the  thoughts in their heads, hopping on the same dismal track as hers. This  was all never meant to be more than simple stress relief, enjoyed by  three mature adults who needed the shit in light of the grim  circumstances that had brought them together.

But something happened on the way to rescuing Zoe. Now, Brynna wondered  if she needed the liberation-only from what, she still didn't know or  understand. And wasn't sure she wanted to.

It was a disgusting, confusing tangle-in a love life that seemed doomed  to possess them. And like the idiot she always was, she kept attacking  the thing with an emotional comb, hoping that if she looked at it from  another angle or tore into it with more resolve, the strands would work  themselves out.

Because that had worked before?

She pushed out a determined breath. This was different. They were  different. Still pressed between their huge bodies, feeling the cadence  of their hearts and warmth of their embraces, she was certain of it in  every cell of her body-and was damn sure they were, too.                       
       
           



       

Right. Okay. So the three of you will live happily ever after now? Maybe  buy some cute little Craftsman in the Seattle suburbs, settle down into  your routine jobs and enjoy your routine life? The showgirl, the bomb  guy, and the top-level security specialist, just one big happy, normal  family?

"Sweetheart?" Rhett's murmur made her painfully aware of the tiny sob she'd let out, despite battling otherwise. "You okay?"

"Fine." It was too hasty to fool either of them, but she gritted a smile  at their scowls anyway. "I'm … better than fine. God, that was … "

"Yeah." Rhett didn't bother with the phony ease. "Yeah, it was."

Silence crawled between the three of them again. It wouldn't last long.  She waited, along with Rhett, for the filthy Cajun one-liner that would  snap them all back to normal, at least for a little while.

Wasn't happening.

Instead, without a word, Rebel carefully slipped out of her then  disposed of his condom. As Rhett did the same, Reb walked to the little  vanity in the corner and dampened a washcloth. He returned bearing that,  along with a larger towel off the rack. Nodded toward the center of the  bed. "Reste là, s'il vous plait, minette."

It wasn't a command but resonated with so much solemnity, she obeyed it  like one. After scooting in obedience, she watched him walk back over  and lower to one side of the bed. Rhett circled around and positioned  himself on the other side. He looked on as Rebel dipped a soft kiss to  her lips.

"What a gift you are, Brynna Monet." He gently ran the damp cloth  between her legs and over her thighs, which were still coated in the  sweat all three of them had shed. "Merci, ma belle."

She attempted a flippant laugh. The formality of his tone, teamed with  the intimacy of his care, was like psychoanalyzing a priest and a hooker  at the same time. Maybe humor would diffuse the discomfort. "It was a  team effort."

She didn't expect huge guffaws-but nor did she anticipate them looking  like she'd just talked referenced crawling over glass instead of three  mind-on-the-moon orgasms. Of course, glass seemed to be in abundance  already-since the two of them also erected an invisible pane of it  between themselves. They damn near pretended they didn't know each  other, much less had been devouring each other's tongues fifteen minutes  ago.

Not. Acceptable.

Even if the three of them would never be a possibility, at least they  could continue on with each other-or try to. The strength they gave each  other, and the connection they shared … it was good; damn good-too rare  and awesome to be ignored, even for a day. As early as next week, they  could be airlifted to a battle zone from which one or both of them would  never return …

There was a heartening thought for the moment.

"So … you're all for the team effort now, huh?"

She shot her narrowed stare toward Rhett. "You still want to make cracks  about that, Sir? I've got a throbbing ass that states I've just learned  my lesson about that point. Can we move on?"

"Okay, okay." Rebel's placation came along with his hand on her knee, gentle but quelling. "Everyone dial it back."

Brynn squirmed. The message was right but the messenger was wrong.  Rhett, with urbanity in his veins and the North Sea in his eyes, was  always their calm under pressure. Rebel was the Caribbean savage, as  willing to tread hot coals as he was to deactivate an IED. Had they  swapped more than spit during those kisses?

"Double-Oh's trying to make a point." Rebel patted her dry, taking extra  care with the tissues that were sensitive from use in the last  twenty-four hours. "He's just not making it very well."

Rhett snorted. "Thanks for the encouragement."

Rebel side-eyed him. "Because you planned on throwing me any?"

"Hello?" She grabbed enough of the towel to whack out at him. "Dialing  it back? Remember?" She gave herself an inner five, at least for staying  on message. Wasn't the easiest task, considering neither of them had  opted to tuck themselves back into their jeans. On any two other men,  the whole drained cock/unzipped jeans look would've been justification  for the squeebs-but damn it if these two men didn't have a pair of the  most incredible penises on the planet. Her blessing-and curse.

"She's right." Rhett tossed a look that ventured toward an apology. "We have to bury the awkward-for now."

His shot clearly addressed some kind of elephant in the room for them.  Part of Brynn ached for them, yearning to jump on the pachyderm's back,  help them wrestle it down, then get the damn thing digested, bite by  painful bite. The other half was pissed at them both. Fate had given  them something remarkable, and they were choosing to throw the treasure  back like it was rotten fish.                       
       
           



       

She'd show them rotten fish. His name was Master Peter, and he'd broken her sister's heart into a thousand pieces.

Rebel straightened. Set the washcloth on the far nightstand before  dropping a decisive nod. "Double-Oh brought up the teamwork thing  because … on the way here, we had the chance to discuss your game plan."  He let out a breath through flared nostrils. "Given better logistics, it  might be the best option we've got. I said, given better logistics."  His addendum shot out in response to her gloating grin.

Rhett dipped his head, underlining the command in Reb's tone. "We're  going to talk this through before making another move on it, Brynna.  You're not even going to sneeze inside that complex without us giving  you clearance first." His shoulders squared as he settled on both  haunches. As he raised his hands back to his hips, a dry swallow grabbed  at Brynn's throat. He looked just as foreboding as the moment she'd  first walked in here-except for the unzipped jeans and the exposed cock  part.

"This isn't us trying to be dickwads," Rebel adjoined. "This is us,  acting as the eyes and ears you won't have." He turned toward Rhett.  "Did you connect with El yet?"

Rhett nodded. "While you were outside." He really could've been a Viking  fighter, with the afternoon sun streaming through a crack in the  paisley curtains, painting patterns of forest green and coral pink over  his corded shoulders. "She's standing by for our go in a couple of  hours."

"A couple of hours?" Brynn jackknifed up so fast, her breasts wiggled a  little-but her joy was so consuming, she didn't even mind the guys'  roaming eyes. "Seriously?"