No wonder she’d been out of sorts. She hated emotion because she couldn’t control it, and she had strong feelings for David.
Well, that was a whole new kettle of fish. Not an altogether unappetizing kettle, though.
“Mad? Perhaps.” He felt entirely too calm to be sane. “Angry? No. How can I be angry about how you feel? That makes no sense.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Seriously? How can you be so damned practical about everything? Can’t you get pissed? You go fucking crazy if Rafe so much as looks at me. So I know you can. Your wife just told you she loves another man.”
She had. But he could hardly hold her responsible, when he’d pressed so hard for this menage. “You don’t love him instead of me, do you?”
She punched his arm. “Of course not, dummy.”
Bugger, that stung. Her punch, but not her words. “Right, then. Perhaps it’s fate that we met David–”
“Fate? We pretty much chased him down and cornered him, and talked him into this whole thing. It sure wasn’t fate.”
“So it’s our own fault, then?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” He rubbed his arm where she’d slugged him. Blue hell, it hurt, even through the booze. “It’s our own bloody fault we’ve a new person in our lives to care for. Simply dreadful.”
“Britt! It is awful. It’s unnatural, for one thing, and I’ll be suffering the consequences when it’s over in another thirty-six hours, and… What do you mean ‘we’ve a new person to care for’? What’s this we?”
Given his near-drunken state, that was a direction he should avoid for this conversation. “When you think of it, we’re sort of kindred souls, we three. We’ve left our families for our careers and–”
“Families.” She covered her face again. “That’s the other thing. Can you imagine if your family found out about this? Or David’s?”
Or hers. Not that she’d voice that fear. His chest constricted a bit for her, all the same. Yanks. “I’m not worried what Mum will think.” Unlikely she’d find out, at any rate. “And as for David, that’s his concern.” He pulled her hands away and looked at her face. “Let’s enjoy the time we’ve left with David, and before we leave on Tuesday, we’ll invite him up to the Mountain to visit. That will leave matters in his hands to decide.” If David’s moonstruck face this morning was indication, this new love aspect to the relationship was not single-sided. Surely he’d agree to continuing on.
* * * *
Brett leaned against the cool bedroom wall for a moment, cradling his poor throbbing head in his hands. Damn the bourbon. Woolly mouth, achy body, head in a vise. His body sent a clear message: You’re too bloody old for this. Keep off the sauce!
Vic and David chattered outside. He’d like to reach them before he keeled over. A few more steps and he made it to the living room armchair. Maybe just a moment here with his feet up…
Ah. That was better.
A small pile of clothing–discarded last night after David had returned–lay nearby. They’d been quite accommodating to his drunken state, right here on the carpet near this chair. The room hadn’t been spinning, but more than a bit wobbly, so he’d managed to convince Vic and David to start their lovemaking without him. He’d leaned over the chair and watched them in the sixty-nine position for ages. Surprising how much he enjoyed seeing Vic with David’s cock in her mouth. With her usual prowess, Vic had orchestrated the grand finale by coaxing him to lie flat on his back on the floor. She’d gotten on all fours with her lovely pussy directly above him, and had David enter her from behind. He’d had the ultimate 3-D experience, seeing, hearing, smelling them so close. Touching her while David thrust. But Vic being Vic, that hadn’t been enough. She’d gone down on him, too, and managed to play them like fine musical instruments, taking them all to a crashing crescendo together.
Despite the hangover, his cock hardened in memory. He’d been close enough to watch David’s balls tighten and disappear, just before Vic showered him.
That position was going on the To Do Again List.
Now he could hear Vic using that lower, seductive voice she never used in mixed company, pausing for David to respond, also in a low voice…and then that sexy laugh. He supposed he should allow them some time alone, but he’d rather know what they were discussing. Besides, being alone rather sucked.
He eased up to his feet and shuffled over to the patio doorway, blinking at the unholy brightness.
They sat at the table, empty breakfast dishes pushed aside–Great Christ, what time was it?–Vic with her feet in David’s lap. David must’ve finally become acclimated, to sit at the breakfast table in his bronzed stark naked glory, stroking Vic’s feet as she kneaded him. And Vic, in her short silk nightgown–that modesty of hers generated its own perverse sexiness somehow–had her knees spread enough, David was obviously getting quite an enchanting view.