The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(70)
He didn’t release her nipple or her wrists until they’d both finished.
“God.” He straightened and pressed a soft kiss into her brow.
Her arms were trembling from being stretched, but she wrapped them around him. Oh that felt good. His nice shirt was damp with sweat, his lean and powerful body warm inside it.
“Next time, no clothes for you,” she slurred.
He laughed, still breathless, then turned his head to check on Zane. His friend had let go of himself and was astonishingly hard, his prick pushing out his zipper like a tent pole. A star of creases in the cloth attested to the force with which he’d gripped it. Like Trey and Rebecca, he was breathing raggedly.
“Saving that for something special?” Trey suggested.
His arch words didn’t amuse Zane. “Shit,” he said, sounding shaken. “I can’t— I’ll catch up to you two later.”
“Zane,” she called a second before Trey did.
Zane stopped in the middle of striding off. He turned his head back to them. “I’m okay,” he said over his shoulder. His breath came out on a shaky laugh. “I guess Rebecca isn’t the only one who needs to think.”
“Shit,” Trey swore after he was gone.
Rebecca touched his shoulder.
“Sorry,” he said, maybe believing he shouldn’t let her see he was upset.
“That’s okay. Of course you want him to be all right with this.”
Trey wagged his head ruefully. “I went at you like a crazy man. He saw how into it I was.”
“It turned him on, Trey—a lot. He couldn’t take his eyes off us.”
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“I don’t think that was the problem.”
Trey pulled gently out of her.
“I don’t,” she repeated, because he remained troubled. “And I’m probably an expert on the sort of things people can have problems with.”
He smiled crookedly, his fingers smoothing her hair back from her hot face. The caress was spine-meltingly pleasant. “I don’t know how to hide my feelings. I don’t know how to slow them down. I’ve been waiting too long to let them out.”
God, his sweetness made her eyes sting. She stroked his hair like he was stroking hers. “You have to be yourself,” she said, more than half wishing her nature was as brave as his. “Once you start pretending, you tend to get stuck with it.”
He kissed her then, and helped her hop off the car. “Grab your clothes,” he said. “I’ll give you the dollar tour of Sodom and Gomorrah.”
~
Zane and Trey’s garage was bigger than most houses. Clad in brick and draped in ivy, it resembled a residence from outside. Rebecca was dressed again, at least haphazardly. Following Trey, she padded barefoot across the long stretch of grass to the house proper. A bright partial moon lit what appeared to be very spacious, very picturesque landscaped grounds. The plantings were nicer than Boston Common. No question about it: Rebecca had left the humdrum world.
Trey caught her hand as she slowed to gawk. “Do you like it?” he asked, long fingers squeezing hers.
“It’s beautiful.”
He smiled, seeming to hear her unsureness. “We earned it,” he reminded. “I doubt we grew up any fancier than you.”
His hand was warm. Though she tugged a little, he didn’t allow her to pull away.
“Let me,” he coaxed. “I like this kind of thing.”
It seemed silly to object when he’d just ravished her atop a car. Holding hands wasn’t more serious than that. She had no cause to feel self-conscious simply because the gesture might be interpreted as romantic. She didn’t have to interpret it that way.
The problem was, part of her wanted to.
Trey let her in to his and Zane’s mansion via a side door. Whatever staff lived in were snug in their beds. Trey and she had the plush antique-laden halls to themselves. Here and there she spotted a touch of modernity—an abstract sculpture on a pedestal, a bold contemporary painting, a streamlined chair or lamp. Mostly, though, Zane and Trey’s furnishings were old. They looked comfortable to her, but they weren’t what she was used to . . . or what she’d expected.
The dollar tour didn’t reveal evidence of Sodom or Gomorrah. It also didn’t reveal Zane. Short of opening every one of the zillion doors, Rebecca couldn’t imagine how they’d find him.
“And this is our suite.” Trey opened one half of a set of paneled doors on the third floor.
The doors led to a shadowy sitting room. Through the arch behind that was an orgy-sized heavy wooden bed, its design reminding her of pews in a cathedral. The suite took up the end of the floor. Tall paned windows brought in light on three sides. At the moment, the light was strictly nocturnal. No lamps had been turned on. The space was peaceful and empty. Zane wasn’t here either.