He said, “I’m here for the wedding. So is Tristan. He’s wandering about somewhere inside. Getting a drink, I think.”
“Nope, he’s headed our way,” Liv said as she caught sight of her other favorite man in the periphery, her glance shifting to Tristan. She was grateful for the much-needed distraction. Not that Tristan Reeves didn’t have her creaming even more . . .
Her already molten blood turned to pure magma.
“I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed. “You’re both home for the wedding!”
“Not just home for it,” Nathaniel told her. “John had asked us to be groomsmen—Tristan and I needed to wrap up some business before we could commit. But we’re free and clear and available to escort you up the aisle following the nuptials.”
She tore her gaze from the Adonis sauntering toward them. “Oh, my God!” Her heart jumped into her throat. “You wouldn’t tease a girl, would you?”
“Not this one.” Excitement flared in Nathaniel’s eyes as his gaze dropped to her plumped-up breasts. He swallowed hard before adding, “And you are no girl, sweetheart.”
Liv tried to ignore the zings ricocheting through her body. No easy feat. She was slightly breathless as she said, “Aww . . . you’re here to rescue me! I’ve been dreading that part of the ceremony for weeks. Dev and Morgan are escorting Fallon. The maid of honor, Sylvia Carter, will be on the arms of Seth Lofton and Noah Donovan. And then there’s me, all by my lonesome.” She jokingly said, “I’d resigned myself to begging the four-year-old flower girl and the ring bearer to let me walk them up the aisle instead of their very own mother!” A distant cousin of John’s.
“Crisis averted. Now you’ve got me and Tristan.”
She threw her arms around Nathaniel’s neck and hugged him fiercely. “I adore you even more for this,” she said, relief washing over her. “Now the bride and groom don’t have to find some poor, unsuspecting male relative to accompany me.”
Nathaniel laughed again, a bit heartier this time. “Come on, now. Those ‘poor, unsuspecting male relatives’ are without doubt lined up around the block hoping for a shot at being your date.”
She released him and said, “Actually, it was looking rather bleak.” Aside from John, his family did not seem to consist of any single men over the age of nineteen—and Chloe was a foster care refugee with no real family to speak of outside of Sylvia, who came from the same situation.
But John had apparently held an ace up his sleeve all along, and it was the absolute perfect solution for Liv.
While her stomach flipped at the pleasant turn of events, Tristan descended upon her and Nathaniel, all towering height and chiseled and dashing handsomeness. He had rugged good looks, yet emitted a sophisticated air. Very Robert Redford in The Way We Were. Tristan would be a killer Hubbell in a remake, with his purposely shaggy blond hair, the bangs dusting his forehead, and his warm, sky-blue eyes.
He was as broad-shouldered as Nathaniel and as athletically built, with flexed muscles underneath his lightweight beige cashmere sweater, the short sleeves pulled taut against his bulging biceps. He had on dark brown Dockers and boat shoes, all of which created a polished yet casual California look. His bronze tan added to his stylish, outdoorsy appeal, a far cry from the buttoned-up kid she’d once known.
Liv impulsively launched herself into Tristan’s arms and snuggled against his hard body. Heaven on earth was being this close to these two men, surrounded by their heat and virility.
She’d missed them more than she’d realized—or had allowed herself to acknowledge over the years. And she couldn’t block the memories of how they’d worked in tandem to give her everything she could have possibly wanted, needed, and desired during their marathon sexfest.
It had been the most incredible twenty-four hours of her life, with a lot of room service and raiding of the well-stocked wet bar so they hadn’t even been required to leave the king-sized bed. Or the swimming pool of a Jacuzzi tub in her spacious bathroom. The scattered sofas in front of the roaring fireplace. The smoky, glass-topped desk in the study.
Ah, the smoky glass-topped desk . . .
A shiver of delight ran through her as she recalled being stretched across the cool surface on her back. Nathaniel’s head had been between her parted thighs, his tongue doing wonderfully wicked things to her clit while she’d suckled and teased Tristan’s balls and stroked his thick shaft as he’d stood at the opposite end of the piece of furniture.
This time, the moan couldn’t be contained—it slipped unbidden from Liv’s lips. Tristan’s embrace tightened.
He whispered, “Thinking of something in particular, honey?”
“Oh, yes,” she murmured raspingly. “The desk.”
That was all she’d had to say—and it was more than she’d ever said aloud when it came to their racy threesome.
He let out a low groan and quietly told her, “Now I’m hard. As if you in this bikini isn’t arousing enough. What you did when you were on your back at that point . . . Fuck.”
He gave her another squeeze, then set her on her feet. Liv was a bit unstable again. She gripped Nathaniel’s strong forearm with one hand and fanned her flushed face with the other.
From behind her, Fallon cleared her throat. Liv had completely forgotten about her friend!
Fallon suspiciously inquired, “Something I should know about?”
“Are you not seeing what I’m seeing?” Liv asked over her shoulder, partially covering her hot flashes under the guise of admiring her men, rather than confessing that she’d gotten naked with them both. At the same time. And had failed to ever mention it to Fallon.
Fallon faintly swiped at the corner of her mouth to indicate there might be a hint of drool at Liv’s.