Page 24 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

I get lost in the job, and before I know it, I’m cleaning the entire kitchen, not just the parts that were dirty from the fire. I find it oddly soothing, and I like letting my mind wander while I do it.

Mostly, it wanders to Larkin. I’m not exactly jealous of Cash, even if I wish I’d been in his shoes. Jealousy has just never been a thing for me — I guess some people are born without it.

After a while, there’s a knock on the kitchen door frame, and I turn.

It’s her. Holding two steaming mugs and smiling.

“It’s tea time,” Larkin says, holding one out to me.

* * *

Instead of thecouch in her studio, this time we drink our tea in the main lobby, on a beautiful leather couch in front of the enormous main fireplace. With all the doors open it’s freezing, so I find a giant faux-fur blanket and drape it over both of us, our legs just barely touching underneath it.

At least, I assume it’s faux-fur. Who makes things from real fur anymore?

I ignore the urge to nuzzle my face against her neck or stroke the soft skin of her thigh with my hand. I’ve never wanted to kiss her more than I do right now, both of us snuggled beneath this blanket.

I want to do more than kiss her. I want to claim her, push her down and take her. I want her to beg for my touch, I want to make her come more times than I can count, until she begs me to stop.

But there’s no way that this nice, normal, non-groupie girl is going to go forthat. Right?

Chapter Ten

Larkin

I’ll admit it:I’m of two minds about this whole…experience.

Namely, the experience where I made out with one guy one day, and then not twenty-four hours later, let his best friend and bandmate eat me out.Thatexperience.

On one hand: I can’t believe I’m doing this, only slutty sluts do something like this, I wasn’t raised to be this way, I should respect myself more than to let them pass me around like a hot potato, etc.

On the other hand, who the hell cares? There’s no one else here to judge me, I was raised to go after what I want, and this sure as hell doesn’tfeellike low self-respect.

It feels pretty awesome.

That night, Gavin banishes everyone else from the kitchen and cooks us something himself: lamb and leek stew with crusty baguettes he found in the deep freezer. He’s told me all about how he basically grew up in his parents’ kabob shop in London, so it’s not a huge surprise that he’s a great cook.

After dinner, the guys usually have their second band practice. Being musicians, they tend to be night owls, so I grabThe Hobbitand go read in the lounge, turning the gas fireplace way up until I’m toasty.

It’s a bit of a struggle. I can hear scraps and bits of their music leaking through the halls and being inthislounge just reminds me of what Dalton and I got up to the other night, when neither of us could sleep.

I’m more than a little bit squirmy on the couch. I consider heading back to my room and grabbing either the vibrator or the dildo and giving myself some release, but I tell myself to stop being ridiculous.

I can live for anhourwithout getting off, right?

* * *

Forty-five minutesafter Ifinallysettle down enough to concentrate on the trials and travails of Bilbo and his dwarven friends, I hear footsteps at the door of the lounge.

My heart skips a beat, and I put my bookmark in the book. There’s only four people it can be, obviously, and to be honest Bilbo Baggins wasn’t that good of a distraction.

The door opens slowly, and there’s Dalton’s face. He raises one eyebrow when he sees me looking at him over the back of the couch. I’m leaning against one arm, my legs stretched out, and my stomach clenches and flutters when I see him.

Cash said it wasn’t a big deal if I had them both. He sure didn’t seem to mind.

God knows I don’t mind, but does Dalton…?

“I was hoping I’d find you here,” he says, grinning and shutting the door behind him. “Are you finished with that book yet? I need something to read when I can’t sleep and you’re hogging it.”

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