Chris sat down on the arm of the couch, stretching out his legs and
crossing his arms, patiently waiting her out, though his expression was watchful. He was probably mulling over some of the same things Sam was. Was this a good idea, any of it? What would become of the three of them and their friendship if they kept going down this path?
Geoff allowed them one additional minute of pregnant silence, then he tossed the keys on a side table, an abrupt metallic clank that had them both turning.
"If this is just a fantasy we're indulging," he said, "dealing with that kind of shit should be a lot easier. We enjoy our threesome for a little while, try a lot of crazy different positions, have fun with it, let it run its course. Then, Sam, you decide which of us you want for the long haul. Maybe it will be neither of us. You'll move on, find another guy who you want to marry, set up house and have babies."
Her spine snapped straight. "Is that what you think this is? Are you saying that's all you expect or want this to be?"
He had Chris's full attention now, but Geoff didn't look toward him yet. It was all he could do to keep an impassive face before her pale expression, the pain in her voice. "I say what I mean, Sam," he said evenly. "You know that. Pay attention to what I'm saying. Think it through."
"Don't patronize me," she snapped.
"You think I'd ever do that?" He injected enough warning in his tone to startle her, to make Chris stiffen. Geoff took another step forward, holding her eyes in that lock. "I told you to think about what I just said. Exactly how I said it. You don't usually need me to repeat something, but I will, just this once. 'If this is just a fantasy we're indulging, dealing with that kind of shit should be a lot easier.'"
She stared at him, but her face became less angry, more confused. Unfortunately, it made the hurt show more, so he had to steel his resolve.
"I'm saying a fun threesome is an easier scenario for people to accept," he continued. "If we want something more, if each of us sees this as something for the long haul, we'll deal with a lot worse than a trio of drunk assholes. The reactions of people who are far closer to home. People you can't beat up." He looked toward Chris. "Family, parents, close friends. Coworkers. And what about marriage? Kids? I'm pretty sure we all want those things. How many times has one of you said, When I have a kid . . ."
"Damn, Geoff, we just started," Chris said, frowning. "Ease off. It's not like we're already thinking about that kind of shit."
"Really? I am." He crossed his arms as they jerked in reaction. "When Sam took us into Naughty Bits, she pulled the curtain away from what's been going on between us all this time. This relationship may have just graduated to sex, but the rest has been building from the moment we met. How long have you been in love with her, Chris? I can tell her the day it happened, the very minute."
Chris looked like he was still wrapping his mind around where Geoff was taking this, so Geoff shifted his attention back to Sam, pleased to see she was a hundred percent in the here and now, rather than back at what had happened at the club.
"It was three weeks after you moved in with us. We'd agreed to let you help clean the apartment and it was your turn on the rotation, the first time you'd done it. You'd put on one of the paint-stained T-shirts Chris has for dirty jobs and were on your knees beneath the kitchen sink, grumbling. 'Why don't men ever do more than a surface clean?' and 'Oh my God, there are dead cockroaches in the back corners . . .'"
She pressed her lips against a smile as he imitated her annoyed, feminine tone. "Chris pointed out that it was better to find dead ones than live ones. You sat back on your heels and you had a smudge of grease on your cheek. You stuck your tongue out at him and pointed an imperious finger below the sink." Geoff imitated her voice once again; credibly enough he heard Chris's half chuckle and Sam's smile broke through. "'I clean. I do not handle dead bug removal. That is men's work.'"
Geoff took a seat on the arm of the occasional chair, stretching out his legs so his shoes weren't far from her slim foot in its wedge heel. Her toenails were painted a pretty lavender. He let his gaze travel leisurely over her, another message. He was in the here and now, the events of the club having no hold on his desire for her. She got the message, because when he reached her face, her lips had parted, her gray eyes riveted on him.
"There was nothing earth-shattering about that moment," he said. Glancing toward Chris, he found his friend's expression harder to read. "It was just one out of the thousand moments accumulating since we intercepted Anthony that day, but it was the click point. I saw it happen in his eyes. When he came to the sink to wet a paper towel to collect the bugs, he nudged you with his leg. You pushed at him, playful, but when he squatted beside you, you used his shoulder to get back on your feet. The casual intimacy was already there, easy as that. He looked toward his shoulder when you let go of him as if he was thinking about how it felt, having you touch him. And how he wanted you to do it again."
Geoff paused as Sam turned her gaze to Chris. He'd still said nothing, but his expression didn't deny it. "What you didn't see," Geoff addressed the other man, "was that was the exact moment it happened for Sam too. Even though she might not be aware of it."
Chris's attention snapped to Geoff, but swiveled just as quickly back to Sam. From how she swallowed, Geoff though she might have been aware of it after all.
"When you left the kitchen, Chris, she started putting things back under the sink." Geoff shifted on his seat. "She got an itch and rubbed her chin on her shoulder. Then she pressed her nose into the fabric so she could inhale it. Like she was smelling your scent, learning it, taking it inside her. She'd forgotten I was watching her, but when she noticed, she flushed and went back to cleaning. She could have passed it off with a joke, like the shirt smelling like paint or some such nonsense, but she didn't. She just tucked her head down and didn't say anything."
Sam sank down in the chair. Geoff stroked a lock of her hair from her face and she pressed her face into his palm. He bent over her, dropping a kiss on her crown.
Straightening, Geoff looked between them. "So, back to my original point. How many people have a relationship this long without starting to think about marriage and kids?" He nudged Sam. "You analyze things to death. I'm pretty sure you thought of it even before we did, so what conclusions did you reach?"
"I was trying not to go there." She lifted her chin. "The feelings might not be new, but expressing them this way . . . that is new. It was nice to enjoy it without making it complicated like that yet."
His heart tightened with regret, and he spoke in a gentler tone. "You're absolutely right. We don't have to rush into all of that. My point is, whatever this is, it's stronger than some stupid thing that happened at a nightclub."
"Way stronger," she said resolutely.
"Good." Geoff tugged her hair. "So we're not a fling you're having before you hook up with some rich banker."
"I don't know." She pursed her lips. "Depends on how rich he is. And if he's not too old and yucky-looking."
Geoff looked deliberately over his shoulder. "They have a wide variety of flat kitchen utensils in here. A few metal ones. They'd probably leave some nice imprints on your ass."
"You'd have to catch me first."
He gave her a look that informed her that wouldn't be a problem and was gratified to see that pretty flush on her cheeks which said she'd conjured some blatant end results of him chasing her down. It worked for him, but they weren't quite ready to shift those gears yet. Sobering, he extended a hand. When she put hers into his palm, he closed his fingers on it, and adjusted so he could look at her and Chris at the same time.