Page 71 of Undone, Love Times Three

“Sex doesn’t fix everything,” she says, her voice is shaky, flustered, and a flush is creeping up her throat. “It goes a long way though.”

“Blue,” I turn my hand over and take hers in mine. “Unless you want me to take you away from this party right now, we should stop talking about sex.”

All around us, people are laughing and talking, enjoying the company of their friends and loved ones, drinking 312, both regular and Blue.

“You’ve been a bad boy.”

“Shit,” I mutter and move in the seat as my dick throbs.

“You broke your promise,” she arches a brow.

It takes a moment for the sex fog to lift and that comment to sink in. Her lips press together as she waits for me to respond. Shedidhear me on the phone.

“And I’d do it again. Over and over.”

She takes a shuddery breath, then straightens her shoulders, taking her hand back. I hold my breath, waiting to see what sheis going to do. She stands and moves around the table, so she is right in front of me.

“You mean it?” she asks.

“Fuck yes.”

Blue tips her head back and laughs. It’s throaty and sexy and I want to own it, always.

She leans into me, one palm on my thigh, the other going around my shoulder. I grasp her hip and pull her flush to my chest.

“I’m breaking it too,” she whispers, stroking her fingers through the hair at my nape, her laughter fading to a smile that says everything I need to hear.

No one else would get it. I do. It’s her way of telling me how she feels. This is enough.

I can’t wait any longer. Her mouth is warm and accepting when I lean in to kiss her. I turn and spread my thighs, pulling her in between my legs. Her arms tighten around my neck and she angles her head, deepening the kiss. It crosses my mind that I want to be alone with her. We could go upstairs, and I could worship her the way I told her I would.

Celebrating and proving to the world she is the amazing person I have fallen in love with, this is where Blue is meant to be. And anywhere she is, is where I’m going to be too.

Him

Hollie

He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

The man at the end of the bar has been nursing his drink for around ten minutes. I know this because I keep looking at him. He’s wearing a suit, his tie half undone and his jacket unbuttoned. His hair is short at the sides but long on top, a slight messy curl to it.

In a total juxtaposition, there are tattoos creeping out from beneath the collar of his shirt. I can’t make out what they arefrom here. Part of me wants to go over and slide the collar back so I can see. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.

Why is he here? Is he alone like me?

I came into the hotel bar on a whim, all dressed up with nowhere to go. The party I’d been at was stiff and corporate, two things I’m not. Inwardly at least. I left without telling anyone. They are peers of my industry that I have nothing in common with, so don’t feel bad about it. And I wound up here.

The hotel is on the Upper East Side of New York and is an architectural masterpiece. The grand, spacious art déco style in the lobby continues into the bar. It’s anonymous and soothing with its low lights, and soft music. The clientele are tucked away in booths or talking quietly with their heads dipped together. Mostly couples, some businessmen.

And the lone stranger, sipping amber liquid from a crystal glass.

His eyes lift and meet mine. I quickly look away into my glass of red wine. When I sneak a glance back at him, he’s still looking at me. His expression is intense, as if there is something about me he can’t quite figure out.

Lifting the glass, I take a few sips of the wine, to calm my nerves.

I should leave. This isn’t something I normally do. He’s still looking at me, as if he is deciding what move he wants to make. Leaning one elbow on the bar, I uncross and re-cross my legs. The split in the dark red dress slipping so that my bare thigh is visible.

The man tracks the movement with his eyes and his tongue darts out. Goosebumps prick my skin and the hair on my arms rises.

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