Page 68 of Wicked Fantasies

His erection stirred at the first touch of her lips despite the fact he’d had more sex this weekend than in the last year combined.

Kylie felt his cock come back to life. “And closer,” she added as she took him back into her body.

“And even closer,” he said, slowly thrusting up.

They repeated the mantra, as this joining, unlike the others, was slow and sweet and when it ended, Heath placed a soft kiss on the top of Kylie’s head.

“Stay with us—forever,” he whispered.

After a nice,long soak in the Jacuzzi with Heath, they parted ways for a little while, each retreating to their own rooms.

Heath needed to put the finishing touches on a sketch he was presenting to the partners at work first thing in the morning.

Colt was probably pissed as hell by now for being held up at the station so long, but Kylie was grateful to have a few moments of peace and quiet to sort out her thoughts.

Looking at her bed, she wondered how she’d ever be able to survive returning to the lonely, cold thing once the weekend ended.

Walking to the mirror that hung above her dresser, she dragged a comb through her tangled blonde hair as she looked at herself for the first time since this fantasy weekend had begun. Her face was flushed, her lips pleasantly swollen from their nonstop kisses. Her curls were disheveled and tousled with a well-bedded look.

Leaning forward, she felt as if she were seeing herself for the first time. She looked…damn, she looked beautiful, feminine.

After a weekend listening to Heath and Colt’s never-ending compliments, she was seeing herself through different eyes, through their eyes. She’d always considered herself passably pretty, not that she ever tried to improve that state. She was content with her looks and refused to spend hour upon hour attempting to enhance anything. She hated make-up, detested hair salons and clipped her fingernails when they got too long because they annoyed her. She’d never owned a bottle of fingernail polish or a curling iron—although with a head full of spirals, why would she need to?

None of that seemed to matter now as she recalled Heath calling her beautiful and Colt whispering the word gorgeous in her ear.

Sighing, she chastised herself for her sudden vanity.

Damn men.

They had her acting like a silly girl.

Enough.

When the deal ended later tonight, she was going to come back and sleep in that damn empty bed even if it killed her, and when she woke up tomorrow, things would be back to normal. She would be one of the guys again and Colt and Heath would return to simply being her fun-loving, affable friends.

Of course that also meant she would have to return to lusting after them in silence. Problem was, now she would know exactly what she was missing rather than merely filling in the blanks with her overactive imagination.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to their professions of love. Clearly, it was the lack of blood to their brains from too much sex that was doing the talking. There was no way they could mean all the wonderful things they were saying.

Colt said he loved her.

During their bath, Heath had said he wanted her to stay with them forever.

She was certain one—or had both of them?—whispered the wordwifein her ear when they’d made love together this morning.

Her heart ached with the sudden realization that she wanted both of them more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

Who in the hell did she think she was to consider even for a second that she could possibly be woman enough for just one of them, let alone both of them together?

The problem was, while the sex was great, amazing, fucking off the charts, she’d given her love to them a long time ago for completely different reasons.

Heath was truly her best friend and there was absolutely nothing she didn’t tell him. He listened to all of her work stories, consoled her after every stupid break-up, and offered her advice and a swift kick in the ass when he thought she needed it.

Colt was more like an older brother to her than her own sibling. He protected her, looked out for her best interests and made her feel safe and cherished. In addition to that, he made her laugh—all the time, and in her book that was more important than flowery words or sappy sentiments.

She felt like she was losing the struggle to retrieve what was left of her scattered wits.

How long would it be until they realized what they’d offered during the heat of the moment?

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