I Spy a Wicked Sin

His dimple deepened. “Beer and vodka.”

She coughed. “What? You’re not serious! Those two words in the same phrase sound completely disgusting.”

“Totally.” He laughed at her pinched expression. “My friends and I dubbed it Fuck-Me Punch. ’Cause a couple of glasses of that and you’ll wake up trying to figure out where your clothes are.”

She took another sip. “It is good. You can’t even taste the alcohol. Weird.”

“Which is why that recipe can sneak up on you. I’ll have to watch your intake or you might rip my shorts off.”

“You are incorrigible. I have a strong feeling you and Jude are dangerous when mixed.”

“You’d be right.”

She eyed him as he took a few swallows of punch. “Indulge me on something?”

“If I can. Shoot.”

“Give me some insight on Jude. Tell me who this man is to you, to those around him.”

The happy mood surrounding Liam faded along with the spark in his pretty eyes. “Which Jude would that be? The powerful force of nature who first hired me? The cold, distant stranger he became last year? Or the lost, vulnerable soul I brought home from the hospital? I’d hardly know where to begin.”

His palpable anguish tore at her heart. “Any of them. All of them.”

He looked away from her, staring out over the gardens. “I wish you could have known him in the beginning,” he said quietly. “Jude was always so sure of himself. On top of the world and confident of his place in it. Then those mysterious trips become more and more frequent. He’d come home exhausted and strung out. Depressed. He’d shut himself in his studio for days after he returned, and his paintings became angry. Violent.”

“Can I take a look at those particular works?”

He glanced at her in surprise. “I can’t imagine why you’d want to, but you can if you go to Tres Geneva gallery. Jude completed five of those hideous things before the accident and his buddy Devon Sinclair sold three of them for more than a million each. Dev displayed the other two and refuses to part with them. Says they’re important works from Jude’s ‘transitional period,’ whatever the hell that means.”

Do I detect a hint of animosity toward Sinclair? Interesting.

“And his work since the accident?”

“He’s still struggling,” Liam said sadly. “It’s early yet. His raw talent survived and anyone with a practiced eye can recognize the one he’s managed to finish is a St. Laurent, but…”

Lily reached across the table, laid a hand on his arm. “I understand.”

“Really? I’m not sure anyone can. No one except me was here when I brought him home. He shut himself in his bedroom and hid for days. Wouldn’t let me in, refused to eat. He was so alone, broken, and confused, and I didn’t know what to do, how to help him. Those were the most difficult few weeks either of us had ever endured.”

“But you both made it,” she pointed out, wanting to comfort him. “Based on what you’ve told me, he’s come a long way.”

“He’s got a long road still, but yeah. I’m starting to see a glimmer of the man I first knew, the man who let nothing stand in his way, and it’s a damned fine thing to witness.”

Retracting her hand, Lily considered her next words for a long moment. She decided to probe a bit, gauge Liam’s reaction. “Do you love him?”

Liam gaped at her, eyes wide. “Jude? No. I mean, yes. But as my best friend, not in the romantic sense.”

She gave him a soft, encouraging smile. “You two play together, though, and I can see how close you are. Doesn’t that blur the lines of friendship?”

He flopped back in the lounger, a smile curving his lips, good humor restored. “Not for us. We’re great friends, with benefits. I’d do anything for him and I know for a fact he would for me, too. It’s just…” He waved a hand idly. “You can’t put two highly sexed guys like us together on a daily basis and not have a nuclear reaction on occasion.”

Yum. “Tell me more.”

Liam turned his head to squint at her, expression amused. “As you might have guessed, he’s dominant, which appeals to my inner slut. He fucks like a dream, especially when he’s primed to play a little rough.”

The image of those two beautiful men playing together seared itself into her brain. And the image made her squirm-in a good way.

“Do you share lovers?”

“Sometimes. I have a few friends in the city who hang here once in a while, and then there’s Jude’s models. It’s never dull, for sure.”

“You’re lucky,” she said, almost to herself.

“How so?”

Her gesture encompassed their surroundings. “You have all of this, a hot best friend who shares your open lifestyle, your freedom. You have everything.”

He slanted her an odd look. “But so do you. All of this is yours now, too.”

Again, the burden of why she was really here weighed more heavily than any assignment to date.

In truth? She had nothing and no one to call her own.

You need information, however you have to obtain it, she reminded herself sternly. No matter how sweet he is, this man is not your friend. He’d hate you if he knew who and what you are.

“Thanks. That’s awfully nice of you to say.”

“Call it like I see it,” he said, shrugging. Sitting up, he flashed a sunny smile. “Want me to help you with the sunscreen? You’re turning pink.”

“Go for it, sweetie,” she said, flipping onto her stomach.

She felt his weight settle on the lounger, one knee between her legs, the other foot braced on the ground. Leaning over, he squirted the cool lotion on her back and began to work it in, his touch light and efficient. His palms smoothed over the crease in her spine, her sides. Under the string of her top, to her shoulders, rubbing with more pressure.

“Wow, you’ve got some serious knots,” he said in concern. “Want me to work them out for you?”

“That’s okay-oh,” she moaned in bliss. He ignored her weak protest and began to massage the tense muscles, thumbs kneading the sore knots she hadn’t realized were there.

“There you go. Just relax and let me make it better. Are you under a lot of stress?”

Who, me? Oh, no, I’m just going to kill your boss-you know, your best friend? And I didn’t expect to like him, either. No conflict at all.

“Just the usual. Moving, taking a new position, learning the ropes.”

“You’ll have it down in no time; don’t worry.”

“Mmm. Your hands are heaven. Do you treat Jude to this magical brand of stress relief?”

“Are you kidding? Every chance I get. Besides, the knots in his muscles are always bad. Painting for hours without a break wears him down.”

Through the pleasant haze, Lily became aware of Liam’s erection. It rode the back of her thigh, high and hard, his heat branding her through his trunks.

“Um, Liam? Is the pistol in your shorts for me, or him?” Laughing, he pressed against her back, his breath tickling her ear. “I’m sprawled across the hottest woman I’ve ever met. She’s practically naked and I haven’t had sex in days. Answer your question?”

In spite of how great he felt against her, she couldn’t resist teasing. “So I’m convenient?”

“You’re not convenient-you’re smart and attractive.” He kissed the shell of her ear, nibbled a tender spot on her neck. “We’re young, we’re consenting adults, and I’m dying to know if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

She wiggled onto her back and cupped his face, brushed a lock of black hair from his eyes. “We can’t have you expiring on top of me, can we?”

God, his weight felt so good, his scent clean and male. The encounter with Jude at lunch had merely whetted her appetite, left her aching for a man’s thick cock filling her.

Lily pulled his head down and he took her mouth, delving his tongue inside for a thorough exploration. He moaned, grinding his length into her mound, creating wonderful friction as they sampled each other. His kiss was so different from Jude’s-slow and passionate, where Jude’s was like a tornado tearing at her well-constructed walls,