“Well now.” Goodwin met her gaze straight-on. “You came to me a mite beat up by life and those that should have had a proper care for you. What they’d done to you, it more or less warped your perception of people. Always figured there’d come a day when you’d be able to see a bit more clearly.”
His answer, given kindly enough, still stung.
“I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee, Mr. Hornsby. Won’t you please come in?” Samantha Kendall stepped forward and placed a hand on Goodwin’s arm.
“Thank you. Coffee sounds good.”
Tamara stood back as her uncle, accompanied by most of the Kendall family, trooped into the house. The sound of conversation reached her, telling her they were already on the road to becoming good friends.
Morgan and Henry stayed with her, and that shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. She had the sense that somehow, over the past couple of days, her life had completely changed.
“Do you want to go inside, join the party?”
Morgan’s question, quietly asked, told her that if she said no, they’d go with her wherever she wanted to go.
She looked from one to the other of these two very charismatic and sexy flyboys. What she wanted to do was go back to the cottage and just be with them. She had a feeling they knew that, too.
Tamara inhaled deeply then smiled. That would come later. Right now, her uncle was inside this house, having a good time already by the sounds of it. And that’s where she wanted to be, too.
“Yeah. Let’s go in for a while. Then we can go back to the cottage.”
Morgan slipped his arm around her and gave her a quick kiss. Then he linked the fingers of his left hand with her right.
Henry took her other hand. For all of the passion they’d shared so far, they’d only both of them held her hands at the same time once before.
Tamara didn’t really know what turn her life had taken in the last few days. Not knowing was the same as not being in control, and that was a state she usually avoided at all costs. It did surprise her that she found this simple custom, having her hands clasped by these two men, to be a gesture that steadied her. Steadied, she knew she could reason it all out later.
Tamara nodded and accompanied them into the house.
* * * *
They’d left a light burning on the porch. The sight of it, and the house, filled Tamara with a kind of warmth she never expected to experience. It felt like coming home.
Get that silly notion out of your head right now, Tamara Jones.
She had a home, approximately a hundred miles due south, and she’d do well to remember that. All through the evening at the Kendalls’ she’d felt different. She’d been a part of that large crowd, seated around the enormous dining room table, listening to stories, telling a few herself, partaking of what she understood was called “family.” She’d had fun in a way she’d never imagined she would. The most amazing thing was that she hadn’t felt like an outsider. She’d felt as if she belonged to that group and with those people.
That doesn’t make Lusty, Texas, home.
“When do you think we’ll know something? About that damn plane?” Tamara might have regretted the churlish tone, but her companions simply smiled at her and acted as if they hadn’t heard it.
“Don’t curse that plane, Itty. It brought you to us.” Henry’s smile worked like magic to soothe her mood. He hefted the suitcase her uncle had so thoughtfully packed for her and kept a hand at her elbow—gentlemanly courtesy—as they mounted the steps.
“It could be a few days,” Morgan said. “I’ve not been retired that long, but neither do I have the clearance I once had. We’ll have to wait and see if any of my contacts will respond to my inquiry.”
“You were a Captain, Henry was a Colonel, and yet you had the higher security clearance. Yeah, right, no black ops in the Air Force.” Tamara grinned. Morgan leaned over and kissed her. Then he straightened and unlocked the door.
“Until we know what’s what, we’ll just carry on as usual,” he said.
They didn’t bother to turn on any of the downstairs lights. Instead, they just headed for the second story.
Henry set the suitcase beside the bed. “What will it be, Tamara? Shower, bath, or Jacuzzi?”
“Decisions, decisions.” She shouldn’t be all that interested in getting naked with these men so soon after the sex fest they’d indulged in for most of the day.
She shouldn’t, but in truth there was nothing she wanted to do more.
“Shower, please.”
Good choice, Tamara thought a few minutes later. The scented steam enveloped her, and soapy, masculine hands caressed her. Over, around, down, and between those knowledgeable fingers cleansed, yes, but they also teased and promised and aroused.
“Lock your fingers together around my neck, Red.” Morgan’s husky whisper from behind tickled her ear and heated her blood.
She did as he asked, and the new position brought his cock closer, to rub against her back and entice her bottom. His hands swept over her stomach, then down, his fingers touching and tantalizing her slit, making her wet, making her burn.
Standing in front of her, Henry soaped his hands again and spread them over her breasts, cupping, smoothing, and plucking. Tamara sighed as the velvety strokes turned her nipples even harder.
“Your breasts are so wonderfully responsive to us, sweetheart,” Henry said. He leaned forward and kissed her, a light and playful kiss that ended way too soon. She smiled despite being denied a deeper taste of him.
“Her pussy likes us, too,” Morgan said.
“Mm, it sure does,” Tamara agreed. “Speaking of responsiveness, there’re a couple of cocks real close by that seem awfully happy to see me.”
“They aren’t just happy to see you, Red, they’re eager to fuck you,” Morgan said. He nipped her ear. “I want to fuck your ass. Will you let me?”
The dark
