Addicted

  Her big blue eyes. Her lush mouth. Her graceful neck arching as she breathlessly rode Beckett’s hand.

  The dark male head bobbing up and down Lennox’s cock captured Jamie’s attention. Moan after moan escaped her lips. Then she started to beg. “Suck him all the way down, Beck. Get him close.”

  Jesus Christ. Beckett was now deep-throating him. Stars flashed in front of Lennox’s eyes, and his hips pistoned as he drilled Beckett’s hot mouth.

  “Goddamn it, love,” he hissed at Jamie. “I don’t come until you do. Let me see it.”

  Her gaze burned into him, thick with desire. She reached down and rubbed her clit, delicately at first, then faster, rubbing in tight circles as she sank down onto Beckett’s fingers.

  “Len . . .” His name slipped out on a shaky breath. “I’m almost there.”

  He cupped the back of Beckett’s head, stilling the man’s greedy pulls on his dick. The base of his spine was tingling. He was seconds away from losing control.

  “Give her another finger,” Lennox ordered.

  The answering male moan vibrated in Lennox’s cock, nearly sending him over the edge. He clenched his ass cheeks to stop the release, focusing instead on the hand between Jamie’s thighs. Beck’s fingers, three of them now. Slick from Jamie’s juices as they stretched her open and fucked her to an orgasm that made her shudder.

  Her moan of abandon triggered Lennox’s release. He spilled into Beckett’s mouth in long, pulsing jets, while his gaze stayed locked with Jamie’s. While his heart pounded and his mind imploded, the pleasure so intense he could barely stay on his feet.

  Jamie’s breathing was as shallow as his as she shook uncontrollably on Beckett’s lap. The other man groaned loudly and Lennox’s dick slid out of his mouth. “Coming,” Beckett choked out.

  Lennox barely registered the man’s climax. With his own orgasm fading away, the realization of what he’d done crashed into him like a lead weight. He hastily tucked himself in his pants and zipped up, focusing his gaze anywhere but on Jamie. He sensed her watching him, though. Felt her confusion and uneasiness hanging in the air. Heard her unspoken questions.

  But he had no answers for her. Just his own personal dose of agitation, and the awful suspicion that he’d screwed everything up.

  * * *

  Reese stopped in the middle of the sidewalk outside Beckett’s loft. “Got lots of complaints today,” she said with a frown. “My people say you’re riding them too hard.”

  Neither Rylan nor Pike looked at all repentant, not that she’d expected them to be. Connor and his men were cold, ruthless pricks. Pike, in particular, but the description also extended to Rylan. The man used his killer grin and disarming southern drawl to fool everyone he met into believing he was harmless.

  “Your people are weak.” Pike was curt and to the point.

  “And all they do is whine,” Rylan added in annoyance. “You’d think they’ve never been knocked around before.”

  “They haven’t,” she retorted. “They’re kids who’ve had their parents protecting them all their lives.”

  “Lucky them.”

  Rylan’s bitterness caught her off guard, because it was rare to see him lose the Mr. Charming act. It suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t know anything about his background except that he’d once trained army recruits. Connor wasn’t one to volunteer many details about his men.

  “What about the older ones?” Pike mocked. “What’s their excuse? We had four no-shows today, and about twenty assholes crying about their sore muscles.”

  She stifled a groan, but it was hard to suppress the wave of self-reproach that crested inside her. She’d been too easy on some of the newer arrivals and she knew it. When Jake was in charge, he’d been a total hard-ass, damn near tyrannical when it came to the outlaws he took under his protection. He’d trained them, pushed them, made sure they could wipe their own asses without requiring assistance.

  Reese’s approach had been similar, at least at the beginning of her reign. Lately she’d been trying to ease up on her people. After a while it got tiresome knowing that everyone thought she was a raging bitch.

  But damn it, she’d allowed them to get too soft.

  Rylan narrowed his eyes when he noticed her expression, and she cursed her face for revealing her worries. His voice lost its edge as he said, “Don’t worry, gorgeous. We have an idea about how to make this less of a chore for them.”

  “How?” she asked suspiciously.

  “We’re thinking of turning it into a competition. Breaking them up into teams and having them go up against each other.” He shrugged. “We can come up with different events for them to compete in. Short- and long-range targets, moving targets, sparring, knife skills, that sort of shit. They can rack up points and we’ll declare a winning team at the end.”

  She had to relent. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “It’d be better if there was a prize at the end, something they’re all fighting toward. Any ideas?”

  Reese thought it over for a moment. “Beef,” she decided.

  Rylan’s mouth quirked up. “I’m trying to figure out if that’s a euphemism or not.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Literal beef. We’re not butchering again until the end of winter, so we’re rationing all the meat we have. We can give the winning team steaks. You know, some choice cuts of meat.”

  Pike nodded. “Good plan.”

  She couldn’t figure out if he was being sarcastic—it was impossible to judge the man’s tone. But she decided to treat it as a sincere comment. “Fine. Go ahead with the plan, then.”

  “We done here?” he said curtly.

  “Yes.”

  Pike left without a word, stalking down the darkened street until he disappeared from view. He usually stayed in one of the town houses on the outskirts of the town, where he kept to himself. That was how he operated—took care of business and then got the hell out. She’d always appreciated that about him.

  Rylan, of course, lingered. “So we’re in agreement about this competition thing?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?” she said irritably.

  His blue eyes gleamed. “Seal it with a blow job?”

  “Good night, Rylan.”

  She spun on her heel and went to join Sloan, who’d been standing by one of the broken streetlamps watching the exchange. Without a backward glance, the two of them headed to her brick building and climbed the narrow staircase to the second floor.

  Rather than turn on the lights, Reese lit a couple of candles and collapsed wearily on the huge futon in the center of the room.

  Sloan leaned against the wall. The damn man never sat. Sometimes she wondered if he even slept. He had a bed in the next room, but fuck if she’d ever seen the sheets messed up.

  “Teresa.”

  The name, uttered in a low, harsh voice, caught her off guard. He only used her full name when he was about to get serious. Well, more serious than usual, anyway.

  “Sloan,” she answered coolly.

  His lips twitched. “You hate it when I call you that.”

  She did. She really did. It was what Jake had called her, and all reminders of Jake were too much to bear.

  “I needed to get your attention.” He went quiet for a moment. Then, to her surprise, he breached the ten feet of distance between them and knelt in front of the mattress.

  He didn’t touch her. Didn’t even blink. He simply stared at her with that impenetrable gaze of his.

  “What is it?” she said uncertainly.

  “You’re playing this wrong.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Rylan,” he clarified. “You need to stop antagonizing him, sweetheart.”

  “I can’t help it,” she grumbled. “He annoys me.”

  Sloan gave a rare chuckle. “I know. But the harder you push
him away, the more he’ll push back. The more he’ll pursue you.” He arched one dark eyebrow. “The whole point was to make him not take notice. To make sure he doesn’t get suspicious. Which means you have to stop fighting him.”

  She swallowed. “What, you think I should fuck him?”

  His square jaw tensed up. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Then what?”

  “Just . . . be nicer.”

  A genuine laugh popped out of her mouth. “Um, impossible. I’m not a nice person, honey.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  The intensity in his gaze brought a flicker of discomfort. And she was even more uncomfortable when he edged forward and lightly stroked her chin with two strong hands.

  It was so excruciatingly intimate that she leaned away from his touch and averted her eyes.

  Sloan didn’t look upset by her withdrawal, only resigned. “Rylan isn’t Jake,” he said gruffly.

  Her shocked gaze snapped up to his. “I know.”

  “Jake is dead.”

  “I know.”

  “We killed him.”

  “I kn—” This time the response got stuck in her throat. Sloan’s blunt, emotionless voice sent a shiver up her spine.

  Silence stretched between them. An eternity of it, as Sloan’s dark eyes probed hers.

  “You still want to go ahead with our plans?” he finally asked.

  She nodded without hesitation.

  “Then cut back on the aggression. Give Rylan something else to focus on. Something that doesn’t involve him chasing you into bed.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’ll figure something out.” He rose to his full height and straightened his broad shoulders. He was so much taller than Jake had been. There was so much power and restraint rippling from his warrior’s body.

  “It should have been you,” Reese whispered.

  Those big shoulders stiffened.

  “You should have been the leader, Sloan. Not Jake. Not me.”

  His dark eyes went veiled. “It’s exactly the way it’s supposed to be, sweetheart.”

  Then he ducked into the room next door, leaving her to ponder his cryptic response.

  9

  Jamie missed her target completely. Epically, in fact, as the bullet hit the corner of the building thirty yards away and caused a chunk of brick to splinter off.

  Loud laughter from her opponents rang behind her. Rylan, who was leading the exercise, strode up to her. “What the hell was that, sweetheart?” Looking exasperated, he tossed over his shoulder, “Blue Team! Ignore what your team leader just did! It’s not to be replicated!”

  “Why am I team leader again?” Jamie grumbled, lowering her rifle.

  “Because nobody else wanted to do it.”

  “I don’t want to do it.”

  “Sure you do.” Rylan leaned closer and she became distracted by his scent, masculine and heady, a hint of sweat and spice.

  But even as she inhaled deeply, there was another scent still lodged in her nose. Lennox, whose familiar smell had surrounded her when his abs were inches from her face two nights ago. When his cock was tunneling in and out of Beckett’s mouth. Lennox’s scent always held a trace of citrus, which confused her because there weren’t exactly any lemon trees in the area. But it was something she’d noticed since they were kids.

  “Jamie?”

  Crap. She’d spaced out again. “Sorry, what?”

  Rylan looked exasperated. “All right. I think it’s time for a break.” He glanced at the crack she’d left in the brick facade, sighed, then cupped both hands over his mouth and shouted, “Grab some water and regroup, everyone! The next event will start in an hour. Until then, pair up and practice those fighting moves.”

  Jamie stifled a laugh. They’d already competed in one other “event” this morning—short-range target shooting—and her team had come away with the coveted “point.” Which meant absolutely nothing, because Rylan and Pike’s scoring system didn’t make a lick of sense to her.

  There were four teams competing in the training tournament, with Jamie, Lennox, Beckett, and Travis serving as team leaders. Jamie’s group included a teenager named Sara, who’d beat out Lennox’s charge, Randy, to win the shooting competition earlier. The girl had impressed the hell out of Jamie with the way she’d handled that Glock.

  Despite the complicated point system, it was obvious the tournament was a resounding success so far. Rylan had posted the schedule of events in the rec hall, and along with keeping track of the scoring, he and Pike were continuing to help the competitors hone their skills. Jamie hadn’t heard a single complaint about the rigorous schedule or the backbreaking physical exertion since the tournament began. It seemed that everyone, young and old, was having fun.

  Well, maybe not everyone. Lennox had that moody look in his eyes again, she realized when she snuck a peek in his direction. She’d done that a lot today, sneaking glances whenever he wasn’t looking.

  Her mind refused to quit obsessing over what had happened at the loft. What the hell did it mean? Why had Lennox let it happen? He’d never, ever gone there with her before. He’d drawn a line between them years ago, right down the center of their friendship, making sure to keep sexual activity firmly on the other side of that line.

  And then he’d gone and trampled right through the barrier he’d erected. He’d whispered filthy instructions to Beckett, his husky voice coaxing Jamie to the most intense orgasm of her life. It had scared her so much that she was now avoiding him.

  They’d barely exchanged five words these past two days, but Lennox hadn’t once commented on the distance between them. She suspected he was equally uncomfortable about what had happened, but he was expressing that discomfort in a far more hostile way, with sullen looks and the occasional narrowing of his eyes, as if he were trying to burrow into her mind.

  “What’s going on with you?” Rylan asked, concern creasing his brow.

  She lowered the rifle, letting the strap hang loosely from her shoulder. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted.

  “You should’ve paid me a late-night visit . . .”

  His tone was teasing, but she just rolled her eyes. “Really? Because I’ve barely seen you since we got here.”

  Rylan gave a sheepish look. “Yeah . . . I’ve been busy.”

  She bristled inwardly. He’d been busy, all right. Busy ogling Reese.

  Rylan’s infatuation with the Foxworth leader wasn’t a big secret, but this time around, his intensity and determination to get into Reese’s pants were alarming. Jamie constantly caught him staring at the redhead, and she didn’t think he’d gotten laid even once since they arrived in Foxworth.

  A loud thump caught her attention and she turned her head to find Kade sprawled on the pavement. He was glaring up at Lennox, who was totally unapologetic about the blow he’d delivered.

  “You need to stop telegraphing your attack,” Lennox remarked dryly. “I can see every move you’re about to make from a mile away.”

  The men had stripped off their shirts for the sparring session, and Jamie’s gaze raked over her best friend’s impressive chest. The roped muscles, the tattoos, the hard six-pack. She wanted to lick every inch of his sinewy golden skin . . .

  No, damn it. She needed to stop thinking about him in that way. Whatever had happened between them in the loft wasn’t going to happen again. She wasn’t allowed to be attracted to Lennox again. Last time it only ended with heartache and frustration. Longing after a boy she couldn’t have, watching him screw every girl in camp except her. It had hurt. And the sting of rejection had stuck with her for months. She didn’t ever want to feel that way again.

  She forcibly wrenched her gaze off Lennox and shifted it to Rylan, whose bare chest was equally enticing. Whose defined biceps flexed as he ran a hand through his hair.
It was getting longer, falling into his eyes.

  Before she could stop herself, Jamie reached out and gently brushed the golden strands off his forehead. God, she needed Rylan to kiss her and distract her from all these confusing feelings. At least with Rylan she knew where they stood—good friendship spiced up with lust. Nothing more.

  “Thanks,” he said huskily.

  She trailed her fingers along his cheekbone. “How about you come find me later?” she suggested in a voice that sounded breathy to her ears. “Help me fall asleep tonight.”

  His blue eyes went heavy-lidded. “I can do that.”

  “Good.” Then she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.

  Usually she liked kissing Rylan, but today she found it hard to focus on the teasing strokes of his tongue. And her pulse was surprisingly steady, considering the eagerness with which Rylan was kissing her.

  “Son of a bitch, Len! I think you broke my nose!”

  Jamie pulled away from the kiss when she heard Kade’s pained cry. Beside her, Rylan snorted, but she didn’t find the situation nearly as amusing. Her concern doubled when Lennox’s gruff voice drifted over to her.

  “Jamie, love, we need you.”

  Where Rylan’s kiss had failed, Lennox’s words succeeded in making her heart beat a little faster. It was the first time he’d called her love since the night with Beckett. Sure, he used that same endearment with every other female, but she liked to think it meant something different with her. Years of history had shaped and strengthened their friendship. It was the single most important relationship in her life, and she knew Lennox felt the same way.

  He loved her. And she loved him. Deeply.

  Platonically. She forced herself to remember that as she hurried over to the two men.

  Shit. There was a lot of blood. Kade had one hand pressed over his nose, but it wasn’t stopping the sticky stream from oozing between his fingers and dripping down his chest in bright red rivulets.

  Lennox flicked his gaze at her. “You got this?”

  “On it.” She stepped forward and said, “Let me see, sweetie.”

  Kade’s voice was muffled behind his palm. “Bastard broke my nose.”