Aidan snorted. “And you having slept with Cash’s girl isn’t incestuous? Plus, if you think about all the other chicks you and Cash, or you and Seth, tag-teamed in the past, that’s a lot of bed bunnies to have in common with other men.”
“Don’t care. We’re not fucking her.”
“We, huh?”
Dylan looked uncertain for a second. “Well, shit, me, I guess. You can do whatever the hell you want.”
“I’d never sleep with someone unless I had your blessing,” Aidan said softly. “That was our agreement, remember? Besides…”
He trailed off, but Dylan didn’t let it slide. “Besides what?”
After a moment, he gave a little shrug, feeling embarrassed. “I prefer it when you’re there. It makes the sex better, for some messed-up reason.”
“I know what you mean.” Dylan sounded perturbed. “Why is that? And why…” Now he was the one stalling.
“Why what?” Aidan prompted.
“Why can’t we stick to the whole one-on-one thing, just you and me?”
He had no answer for that, but it was the same question that had been plaguing him for months. Although Dylan had moved in last month after his lease with Seth Masterson elapsed in mid-November, he and Aidan had been sleeping together since the beginning of September. More than three months now, yet they couldn’t seem to last more than a week having sex with only each other. They both loved women too damn much, and eventually they ended up going out, meeting a beautiful, willing woman, and bringing her home.
“I don’t know,” he finally responded. “And I’m not sure tonight is the night to try to figure it out.”
Dylan nodded. “You’re probably right.”
“I think Notre Dame is playing this afternoon. Wanna catch a bit of the game?” Aidan said lightly.
“Yup.”
Just like that, the tension in the air dissolved like a teaspoon of sugar in water. At least on the surface. Inside, Aidan was still troubled, still thinking about all the times he and Dylan had had a warm female body nestled between them.
It was during those moments, when he was running his fingers over a woman’s sweet curves and listening to her throaty moans of pleasure, that Aidan was reminded of how much he needed a woman in his life.
But…he needed Dylan too.
He just had no idea how to reconcile those two conflicting needs.
Chapter Four
Claire emerged from the bedroom later that evening and realized she was a lot tipsier than she’d thought. Like swaying-on-her-feet tipsy. How weird. She hadn’t felt drunk when she’d been sprawled on Dylan’s bed, nursing that Lagavulin bottle, but evidently she’d misjudged her sobriety level.
Everything seemed to be spinning as she made her way down the hall, so the first thing she did when she entered the living room was collapse in the black recliner before the floor gave way under her feet.
It wasn’t until she heard someone clear his throat that she noticed Dylan and Aidan sitting together on one of the L-shaped leather couches. Both men were staring at her. Aidan with amusement. Dylan, disapproval.
“Are you drunk?” the latter demanded.
“No,” she said belligerently. Her gaze moved to the enormous flat screen mounted to the wall, which was turned to a football game with the volume down. “Oooh, is Tom Brady playing? I wouldn’t mind me some eye candy.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dylan grumbled. “You’re drunk.”
“I am not.”
“And FYI, this is a college game,” Aidan piped up. “No Brady, I’m afraid.”
She pouted, but football didn’t stay on her mind for long. She was suddenly far more interested in the two men on the couch. Aidan, unfortunately, had put on a shirt, but on the bright side, it was a sleeveless basketball jersey that revealed his muscular arms. Dylan had changed out of his suit and into sweats and a white wifebeater, which also showcased his arms.
“You guys have great arms,” she declared.
Aidan grinned.
Dylan scowled. “Where did you even get the booze? Don’t tell me you packed some in your suitcase.”
“Actually, I did. It was a surprise for Chris. His favorite scotch so we could toast to our happiness.”
Her response softened some of the hard edges in his expression. “Shit. Sorry. I guess you’re entitled to get sloshed after what happened today.”
“Gee, Dylan, thanks so much for giving me permission. I felt so wrong drinking without your blessing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said graciously. “By the way, you can go ahead and be as sarcastic as you want. You get a free pass tonight.”
“Really?” She feigned delight. “So I can verbally abuse you without repercussions?”
“Yup.”
“Golly gee, how wonderful.”
Aidan snickered, then reached for the remote and flicked off the television. When Dylan uttered a protest, the dark-haired man shrugged and said, “You two are way more entertaining than this football game. So please, keep going, this is a lot of fu—um, probably not a good idea to sit like that, sweetheart.”
It took Claire a second to grasp that he was talking to her. She’d just drawn her legs up so she could sit cross-legged, and when she glanced down, Aidan’s warning suddenly made sense. Since she was still wearing the skimpy beach dress, and with her legs positioned the way they were, both men had a perfect view of her lacy white panties.
“Oh,” she blurted out. “I forgot to change into comfy clothes.” She paused in thought. “No, wait. I did take off my bra.”
“I can see that.” The heat that filled Aidan’s dark eyes was almost hypnotic. He was staring at her chest like he wanted to devour her whole, and her nipples instantly responded to his hungry appraisal, hardening and poking against the fabric of her dress.
He wanted her.
The notion caused a thrill to shoot through her. Maybe the alcohol was messing with her head, but a man didn’t look at a woman the way Aidan was looking at her unless he wanted her, right?
She could have sworn she heard Dylan murmur, “Don’t even think about it”, but she was too busy maintaining the heated eye contact with Dylan’s roommate, whose sensual mouth now donned a tiny smirk.
“So let’s get to it,” Aidan told her.
A jolt of desire streaked through her, and she felt her already flushed face turning redder. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting?
“I want to hear you abuse Dylan for a while,” he clarified.
The disappointment that flooded her belly was laughable. Okay, she really was drunk. Of course Aidan wasn’t propositioning her, a woman he’d met mere hours ago. And she was probably misinterpreting his lustful expression too.
“Or we can feed the lady,” Dylan spoke up, his tone wry. “Because I’m pretty sure she just downed a shit-ton of liquor on an empty stomach.”
“I did,” Claire confirmed with a broad smile.
To her surprise, Dylan actually laughed. “Not something to be proud of, honey. Trust me, you’ll regret it in the morning.” Now he sighed. “I’ll fix you up something small. Maybe a sandwich?”
When he started to get up, she waved for him to stay put. “I’ll eat in a bit, and don’t worry, I’ll feed myself. I feel bad making you wait on me.”
“Like I said, you’ve got a free pass. My brother was a total dick to you today.”
Stretching her legs out, Claire stared at her red-polished toes and wiggled them around. “Hey,” she said absently, “I’m not seeing double anymore. I have ten toes again.”
She shifted her head and met Dylan’s eyes. He had the most gorgeous eyes, she decided. They were the palest shade of green she’d ever seen, so vivid they looked photoshopped. Chris’s eyes were also green, but darker, and definitely not as pretty.
“You think your brother was right to end it, huh?” she said slowly. “You don’t think it would have worked out between us.”
Dylan went quiet for a moment.
“Yes,” he finally replied. “I don’t think it would’ve worked.”
“You might be right about that.” Claire paused, reluctant, then went on. “My friend Natasha said the same thing. She thinks that deep down, I knew it too.”
“Did you?” Dylan asked roughly.
She hesitated again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I’m upset, but…not as upset as I thought I’d be.”
Before he could question the response, she staggered to her feet and turned to Aidan. “I think I want that sandwich now. Do you mind if I rummage around in your kitchen?”
“Poor girl,” Aidan murmured as the two men watched Claire’s face disappear behind the refrigerator door. “I still can’t believe Chris recruited you to cancel his wedding.”
Dylan frowned. “It definitely wasn’t his finest moment.”
“It was a dick move.”
There was no arguing that. Hell, even Dylan’s mother agreed that Chris had done a seriously crappy thing today. When Dylan had called her earlier to apologize, Shanna had still been horrified by her eldest son’s behavior, but fortunately, she hadn’t been angry at her youngest for taking off too. She insisted Dylan had done the right thing by getting Claire out of town—apparently everyone they knew was whispering about the wedding and stirring up a gossip storm of massive proportions.
A loud thump sounded from the kitchen, followed by a cheerful yell from Claire. “No worries! Just dropped the mayo container. It’s plastic so it didn’t break!”
The glum tone she’d used only moments ago was gone, the delight in her voice unmistakable.
Dylan tried very hard not to grin. He had to admit, drunk Claire was a lot more fun than sober Claire.
Next to him, Aidan didn’t bother hiding his grin, which ignited the cycle of irritation all over again.
Aidan was attracted to Claire.
Dylan could see it plain as day, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. It had nothing to do with jealousy, either. He and Aidan brought women home all the time, so watching his roommate fuck someone else wasn’t anything new or scandalous.
No, it was Aidan’s attraction to this woman that bugged him. He didn’t want Claire fooling Aidan the way she’d fooled Chris, making him believe she was someone special, someone sweet and wonderful, when in reality she was a materialistic snob who liked to belittle women who weren’t as career-oriented as she was.
Chillax, buddy.
Realizing his chest had tightened with resentment, he inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm himself, then glanced over at his roommate.
Okay, enough with the roommate bullshit, he told himself.
His lover.
Aidan Rhodes was his lover.
The memory of Aidan’s lips stretched wide around his cock sent a bolt of lust straight to Dylan’s groin. Christ, he really had needed that. He’d left for San Francisco yesterday morning and was back in San Diego less than forty-eight hours later, but he felt like he’d been gone for months. Sitting through that rehearsal dinner last night, getting all gussied up this morning, informing the bride her groom was gone…shit like that took its toll on a man.
Needless to say, he was happy to be home, and to him, home was San Diego. He may have been born and raised in Marin County, but he’d always felt so out of place there. The people in his neighborhood were uber-conservative, the kids from his high school preppy as hell, and that kind of stifling, judgmental environment was definitely not ideal for a guy who loved cock as much as he loved pussy.
“Aw, he’s still mad at me.”
Claire’s voice jerked Dylan out of a train of thought that had been going nowhere fast.
“I’m not mad,” he muttered. “I’m mostly annoyed, and kinda tired. It’s been a long day.”
“No kidding.” She flopped down in the recliner and balanced her plate on her thighs, then picked up her sandwich and took a big bite.
His gaze instantly gravitated to her mouth, rosy red and shaped like a cupid’s bow. Each time he looked at her pouty lips, he imagined them wrapped around a man’s dick. Those were definitely blowjob lips, all right.
As usual, Dylan found himself checking out the rest of her, and as usual, his cock liked the view. Claire McKinley was so fucking hot it was actually kind of infuriating. She’d removed all the little white flowers from her hair and now those reddish-brown waves cascaded over one shoulder, glinting like burnished copper in the light spilling down from the ceiling fixture. And that dress. Christ, couldn’t she put something else on? The material was so thin he could see every curve and indentation of her body, and her braless state pretty much ensured that he and Aidan wouldn’t be tearing their gazes from those puckered nipples anytime soon.
With that smoking-hot body and the alcohol-induced blush on her cheeks, she made such a tempting picture that Dylan’s mouth actually watered, and he hastily had to remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t be thinking about screwing her.
One—she was his brother’s ex-fiancée.
Two—he didn’t like her.
Three…okay, well, he couldn’t think of a third off the top of his head, but the first two reasons were more than enough.
“I’m tired too,” Claire said between mouthfuls. “But at least I have the next three weeks off. I can’t remember the last time I had one week off, let alone three.”
The sofa cushions dipped as Aidan leaned forward to grab his Coke can from the glass coffee table. He took a sip, watching Claire in curiosity. “What is it you do for a living?”
She chewed and swallowed before answering, and Dylan suddenly noticed the kind of sandwich she’d prepared. “No jam?” he asked warily.
“Nope. I don’t like jam.”
“Neither do I.”
They looked at each other for a few seconds, neither one speaking. Then Claire turned to address Aidan. “Anyway, I work at a consulting firm.”
“Cool. What does that mean exactly? What do you do there?”
A huge grin filled her face. “Consult.”
She looked so proud with her answer Dylan couldn’t help but laugh. So did Aidan, who took another sip of his soda and said, “Care to elaborate?”
She shoved the last piece of bread into her mouth, then set her plate on the table and got comfortable again. “My firm helps organizations operate more efficiently, in terms of overhead or management or certain protocols. Basically I visit a company and conduct an analysis of their internal workings, and then I tell them how they can do better.”
“Sounds interesting.” Aidan looked impressed.
“Sometimes it is. But sometimes it’s boring.”
Aidan laughed and glanced over at Dylan. “Hey, look at that, you two have another thing in common.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” he asked suspiciously.
“You’re both capable of holding serious, articulate conversations even when you’re drunk as skunks.”
“Hey,” Claire protested, “I’m not drunk as skunks. I mean, as a skunk.” Her dainty eyebrows knitted together. “Wait, do skunks get drunk? Why is that even a phrase?”
“Because it rhymes?” Aidan suggested.
She pursed her lips in thought, then nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.”
Another burst of involuntary laughter flew out of Dylan’s mouth.
Shit. He really shouldn’t be getting any enjoyment out of this conversation. He wasn’t supposed to like this woman, damn it.
Deciding he needed a reminder about who he was dealing with, he looked at Claire and said, “So why did you get into consulting? I bet it was for the money, right?”
“Nope. I got into it because I like ordering people around. Can you believe it? I found the one job that pays me to be a know-it-all.” With another beaming smile, she hopped off the chair like an energetic little kid. “I’m thirsty.”
Aidan chuckled as she darted toward the kitchen. When Dylan saw the familiar glint in the other man’s eyes, he stifled a groan and issued another low warning. “Come on, man, not her.
This morning she nearly became my sister-in-law.” He checked to make sure Claire was out of earshot, then added, “And I don’t like her.”
“Too bad,” Aidan murmured. “’Cause I like her a lot, bro.”
Their hushed conversation died when Claire strode back into the room with a tall glass of water. She sat, took a tiny ladylike sip, then watched them both with a thoughtful expression, for so long that Dylan shifted in discomfort.
“Stop staring,” he grumbled. “It’s rude.”
“But I just can’t figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“Are you two gay or what?”
The question came out of left field, but it didn’t raise his guard or provoke any indignation. If anything, he was surprised she hadn’t voiced it sooner, especially after the scene she’d witnessed a couple of months ago.
On the other end of the couch, Aidan was laughing again. “I don’t know. Hey, Dylan, are we gay?”
For a moment he was too distracted by that husky laughter to respond. Aidan had laughed more today in Claire’s presence than in the entire month Dylan had been living with him. Not that the guy was Grumpy McGrumps or anything, but the one thing Dylan had learned since moving in? Aidan Rhodes was intense. And haunted. Something was definitely haunting him, but Dylan had yet to decipher the shadows he often glimpsed in those chocolate-brown eyes.
He knew Aidan was hiding a lot of pain behind his seductive, laid-back exterior, but getting the man to talk about his emotions was like trying to train a goldfish—futile and exasperating.
“Are you making fun of me?” Claire sounded hurt as she looked from one man to the other.
Aidan grinned. “Naah, just teasing.”
“You still haven’t answered the question.” Now her big, russet-colored eyes were focused on Dylan. “Are you gay?”
He shook his head.
“Bisexual then?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he answered with a shrug.
She glanced at Aidan. “Are you bi, too?”
“Yup,” he confirmed.
“Huh.” Propping her elbow on the arm of the recliner, she rested her chin in her palm and continued to study them. “Okay, so you both like women.”