Sara sits back onto her heels, the silk of her robe now pooled around her on the floor, her auburn hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, and she looks so fucking beautiful I could weep. “Was that good, baby?” she whispers.
I nod, running my fingers over the line of her jaw, angling her head back so that she’s looking up at me with those big blue eyes of hers. “Yes. Yes, it was. You’re always so good.”
She grins up at me like the cat that got the cream; being praised is one of Sara’s favorite things. I’m sure having two guys on hand to tell her how beautiful and sexy she is couldn’t be more perfect as far as she’s concerned.
“Are you sleeping here, baby?” she asks. She’s got the fluffy, fuzzy, blissed out look on her face that means she’ll be ready to pass out soon. I have to say I’m a little surprised by her question, though.
“Well, that’s a first. I can’t ever remember being asked to spend the night before. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I tease.
She gathers her hair into a pony tail, tying it back out of her face, and then sticks her tongue out at me. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Michael. I just…I thought it would be nice, y’know. To…” She shrugs.
“Snuggle?” I try not to laugh.
“Fuck you, asshole. I do not snuggle.”
“Not even with Cameron?”
“Especially not with Cameron.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve met my husband. If he’s in contact with another human being’s skin, he has to fuck them, regardless of how many times he’s already come and regardless of how you beg and plead with him to let you sleep.”
I draw a line across her naked shoulder blades, enjoying the soft, supple warmth of her skin. “And what makes you think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you if we sleep in the same bed?”
“Because you’re not like Cameron,” she says softly, picking up her robe and getting to her feet. “You’re…you’re more emotional than he is. You’re capable of holding someone for five minutes and not wanting to stick your dick inside them. Cameron’s an addict. He can’t help himself. You’re sexually driven but you know when to stop. That gives you power over your sexuality.”
She’s right. It’s pretty damn obvious that Cameron’s a sex addict, but then I’ve thought the same of Sara, too. That’s why they always seemed so well matched as a couple. I suppose hearing Sara say now that she wants someone to hold her is coming as a bit of a surprise. Not an unpleasant one. Just unexpected. If she were anyone else, I’d probably tease her a little more and give her a hard time but from the hostile frown on her face, I get the feeling she wouldn’t take that well. She wants me to say that, yes, I’ll stay, but she really doesn’t want me to make a fuss about it.
“Sure. I’ll spend the night,” I tell her. She doesn’t say anything else. She takes me by the hand and leads me upstairs to the bedroom she normally shares with Cameron, and we climb into their ridiculously oversized bed. It really is grandiose to the extreme; you could probably fit at least five people in here, and you could definitely drown in the sea of pillows they’ve got scattered all over the place.
“Don’t tell Cameron about this,” she whispers as she curls herself against my body, resting her head on my chest.
“Would he be pissed that I’m staying here?” If there’s one thing I don’t want to do, it’s breach an unspoken rule with these guys. We have an arrangement that works well for all three of us, as far as I can tell, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. Sara shakes her head, though.
“No. He wouldn’t mind at all. He just wouldn’t let me live it down is all,” she says quietly.
I don’t know what’s happening in society when showing affection or wanting to feel close to someone is a bad thing, something to be embarrassed about, but it seems that’s where we’re at these days. I love feeling a woman melt against me as she falls into unconsciousness, to know that she’s vulnerable and trusting of me at the same time as she dreams. It feels incredible to share that with someone.
Still, this feels a little odd. It’s not our usual dynamic. It’s kind of laughable that I’ve been inside every single orifice the woman possesses and it’s climbing into a bed with and falling asleep with her that I’m finding strange.
It doesn’t take long for us both to pass out, though. I dream about the blonde woman in the photo Freddy Clough kept in his wallet.
THREE
“Wake up, motherfucker.”