Her mouth went dry. “Oh.”
“Months of following you around, and though I still dream about that outfit, your sass is what really slays me now. Your strength and your fearless sensuality. If you want something, you go after it. And you have a hunger that reminds me of…”
“Declan,” she finished.
Leaning close, he took one nipple into his mouth over the fabric of her shirt, sucking hard, making her buck against him. Then he drew away and nodded as he took in his handiwork. “I thought if anyone could help me break through his rules, it would be you.”
“He said no, Trick. It doesn’t get clearer than that. He doesn’t want me.”
His piercing gaze pinned her. “Declan Kelley wants you so bad it’s almost painful for me to watch.”
“Um, were we at the same party? Because I don’t remember it that way.”
“Baby, don’t you know a man running scared when you see him? What happened in that room was all about you. Well,” his smile was sinful. “That’s why it started. He knows he’s cooked—he’s just denying the fire as long as he can. I gave him eight weeks to hold out and he thought he’d resisted temptation, but you, Jennifer Finn, were made to tempt him.”
“How’s that?” she asked doubtfully. Trick had given Declan eight weeks to hold out, and her eight weeks to get so turned on she’d be ready for anything. He was wicked. Smart, but wicked.
“You exist. You’re his Crackerjack prize for being a really good boy. A passionate, kinky, smart and beautiful redhead who loves three-ways and thinks man-on-man action is sexy.”
“How do you know I love three-ways? Strictly speaking, I’ve never had one.” She pushed him back against the couch, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Did he really believe Declan wanted her that much? Did he want her that much?
“How do I know? Who’s been sneaking into your bed, making you come for almost two months now?”
Jen sighed. “All that tells you is I’m easy and I respond to foreplay.”
His eyes burned with something that made her ache. “You’re not easy, sweetheart. You just know what you want. Which is why I’m hoping some part of you wants to give me another chance. Give Declan another chance.”
Did she? Tonight was a painful lesson in disappointment. She still wanted them both—she’d be lying if she said she didn’t. But were Trick’s words of encouragement enough to make it worth giving this ménage a second chance?
She thought about Declan’s expression as he pinned Trick down.
“Tell me what you want me to do next.”
Chapter Four
Declan took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before he acknowledged the bright, inquisitive and dependably verbose student in the first row. Today’s intro might take longer than he thought.
He usually enjoyed the lively debates in his lecture hall. For being such a natural part of life, sex was always a surprisingly controversial topic, particularly here at home. Whenever he traveled across the Atlantic for conferences and guest lectures, he always got the same question: Why is a country that’s such a beacon to the rest of the world when it comes to freedom, self-determination and independence so hung up on what other people are allowed to do in their bedrooms?
“We’re young,” he’d say with a laugh, putting everyone at ease. “Give us time.”
Of course after the lectures, when he stopped being a professor, Declan acknowledged his own hypocrisy. His own reluctance to fully and freely embrace his personal desires.
Don’t look at Jennifer Finn. Not yet.
Today was the first day of a new topic and he needed to be present. Nothing got the students more involved than the section of the course on multiple partners and the psychology of shared intimacy.
You could have had them both.
He slipped his glasses back on and forced a smile. Question. A student had a question. “Yes, Miss Giles?”
The blonde smiled and lowered her hand. “You mentioned polyamory’s portrayal in the mainstream media. Don’t you think it says something about our society that we’re inundated with cable and reality shows focused on one man with multiple wives or lovers? I mean, how many sister wives and cable series set in Utah do we really need?”
The bored-looking boy in black beside her—Ira, Declan remembered—sent her a smirk and spoke up. “I don’t watch reality television, but every time I go to the movies I see one girl and two guys. Or one girl and a werewolf and a vampire. Or one girl, one baker and one guy who’s unfairly trapped in the friend zone through no fault of his own. Seriously, Professor, we should skip this topic and discuss why young adult novels are full of girls who can’t make up their minds.” The smattering of masculine chuckles was short-lived, but the uncomfortable silence that followed was not.