wanted it.
He jerked back. “Tell me you want a cock inside you, Stef.”
He felt her relent, her muscles going slack. She stopped fighting him, fighting it, whispering, “Oh, I hate you for this.”
“No, you don’t.” He feathered kisses on her clit now. “Tell me.”
“Yes!” she moaned. “Yes, yes, yes! I want to be fucked!”
Her admission sent a jolt through him as she went wild, gasping and moaning, thrusting her hips against his face and tongue until she came, her muscles fluttering around the fingers plunged deep inside her pussy.
When she was spent, she crawled off of him and buried her face in her pillow. He thought he heard her say, “I hate you,” but he wasn’t sure. He used the incredible strength in his arms to move himself up onto his elbow beside her, stroking her long, sweat-dampened and tangled blonde hair.
“I’m going to invite Ben to dinner,” he said.
Stef turned her face to him. “Is this what you really want?”
He leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “It’s what you need.”
“More wine,” Stef said grimly, holding her glass out to him.
Evan filled it without even raising his eyebrows, knowing how much she hated the stuff.
“How’s the roast?” He watched her down the liquid with a grimace and a shudder.
Putting her glass down on the table, she turned to the oven, bending to open it just a crack. He admired the way her green dress pulled across her hips and rode up her thighs when she did, knowing just where her black thigh-highs ended and where the crotch of the matching black panties began under that dress. The thought made him dizzy with lust.
Stef slammed the oven door shut with a gasp when the doorbell rang. Evan whirled his chair around expertly, heading to answer it. She grabbed the handgrip on the back, and he looked over his shoulder at her.
She was shaking her head, her eyes wide. “I can’t do this.”
“No backslides.” He grinned.
“I’m not kidding!” She pinched his shoulder and made a face.
He pushed off again toward the door, calling back, “It’ll be okay.”
When he and Ben came back into the kitchen, she was pouring herself another glass of wine, but the roast was out of the oven and ready to be carved.
Evan saw the awkward and slightly fearful, but definitely excited look that passed between them as Stef leaned in to kiss Ben’s cheek and hug him hello. He noticed his friend’s hands linger a little longer over her hips, and the flush in his wife’s cheeks that hadn’t been there five minutes ago, wine or no wine.
“So how’s business, Ben?” Evan watched Stef turn back to the roast, grabbing the knife out of the block. She took another sip of wine before she started carving.
“I’m tired.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs with a sigh, running a hand through his brown mop. His cheeks were scruffy and he rubbed them as he watched his friend’s wife. “This time of year, it’s constant.”
“Feast or famine,” Stef remarked as they both watched her struggling with the knife. “Seasonal work is always like that. You’ve got a good tan going, though. There’s a nice perk.”
Ben smiled, standing and coming up behind her. “Do you want help with that?”
She didn’t turn, but she handed him the knife. “Thanks. Do you want something to drink? Wine, beer?”
“Wine would be great.” He started to make quick work of the roast. Evan sat back in his chair and watched his wife pour the wine, noticing the slight tremble as she handed the glass to Ben, their hands touching briefly.
“So how’s your latest idea coming, Ev?” Ben transferred meat from roast pan to platter.
“Great, actually.” He tipped his wine glass toward Stef. She filled his glass. Half the bottle was gone already. “Been pounding out a good four to five thousand words a day.”
“It’s really good.” Stef’s eyes moved lovingly over her husband’s face. “You should read it.”
“You’re the only one who gets that privilege.” Evan winked.
“I see.” Stef was staring into her wine glass. “
“Whoa.” Ben set the carved roast platter on the table between the potatoes and peas. “Listen, we don’t have to do this.”
He sat on Stef’s other side, his eyes searching her face, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her face was even more flushed now. Ben looked over at Evan, who shrugged.
“We might as well talk about the elephant in the middle of the room.” Ben poked at Stef’s forearm. “Not that you’re an elephant. Hippo, or rhino, maybe…”
“Shut up!” She made a face at him then, and couldn’t help smiling a little. She reached for the potatoes and plopped some onto her plate, passing the bowl to Ben. “I just… I guess I’m a little scared.”
“Fair enough.” Ben handed the potatoes to Evan, who had rolled his chair up to the table. “Me, too.”
“Yeah?” She cocked her head at him, tucking a long stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Of what?”
“I guess the same things you are.” Ben took the peas from her. “What if this jeopardizes our friendship?”
“God, these things are always so messy.” Stef slid the platter of meat toward Ben.
“Life is messy.” Evan pierced a bloody piece of meat. “People walk out in the street and get hit by buses. People get blown up by terrorists in their own office buildings. People crash their motorcycles and end up paralyzed.”
Stef and Ben looked at each other and then at Evan, who was attacking his slice of roast.
“What?” Evan asked, chewing furiously.
Ben leaned back in his chair. “Well, what if we set some…ground rules?”
“Like what?” Stef chewed thoughtfully.
“Whatever makes us the most comfortable, I guess.” Ben shrugged. “Or maybe just ruling out the things that make us uncomfortable?”
Stef made a face. “Sounds so clinical.”
“For now,” Ben replied, his dark eyes piercing hers. “This is just the preliminaries.”
“You know what I want,” Evan said. “What I really want is for you to give Stef something I obviously can’t.”
“Evan-” Stef frowned.
“Ben, listen,” Evan went on, as if she weren’t there. “I think we already know the ground rules. I talked to you about this before. You pretty much know how I feel.”
Ben nodded.
“And Stef knows how I feel. And I know how Stef feels-even if she says she doesn’t.”
She fingered the edge of the tablecloth, not looking at either of them.
Ben frowned. “I don’t want to do this if she doesn’t want to, though, Ev.”
“She does,” he insisted. “Don’t you, baby?”
Stef bit her lip, looking first to her husband, and next to Ben. Then she picked up her glass of wine, nodding slowly. “Yes.”
“I guess that settles it.” Ben let out a pent-up breath.
Stef stood, taking her plate to the sink. She stayed there, loading the dishwasher, while the conversation turned once again to the two men’s work. Evan watched his wife 183
as she stooped to load the plates and glasses, the shimmery green dress sliding over her curves. He noticed Ben watching her, too.
When Evan grabbed his plate and, with one hand, turned his chair and wheeled toward the sink, Ben took the cue and started clearing the table.
“Thanks,” Stef murmured to both of them, but she was smiling at Ben as she took the platter of meat.
Evan knew that smile well.
“Nature calls!” Evan backed his chair up and turned it toward the doorway. It was just an excuse to leave them alone for a while. He could empty his bag whenever he wanted. He stopped by the living room to turn on the stereo. By the time he got back, the dishes were done, the food was put away, and Ben and Stef were sitting on the sofa talking. It took him a hell of a lot longer in the bathroom than it used to, that was for sure.
