That was Tris. Hotheaded and emotional and, more than anything, invested. He’d reserve judgment for a long time, then go all hell-bent on getting what he wanted at a moment’s notice.
Matt didn’t work that way. He knew Tris saw him as impulsive, but if he did something, you could sure as shit bet he’d thought through every angle first. He didn’t just run everything behind the scenes at Tristan Designs with precision, he ran his life that way too. And he hadn’t worked out telling everyone about their ménage yet, mainly because he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it. At his core, he was almost as wary of unusual setups like this as Cait, but he also wasn’t used to denying his needs. And when it came to her and Tris, he’d denied for as long as possible.
He also had a wonderful, sweet mother he wasn’t about to hurt. She wouldn’t get this. He didn’t think she’d condemn it either, because she loved all three of them. But still. If they didn’t have to rip the lid off this right now, why borrow trouble? Couldn’t they just work on getting Caity to come around without planning some big reveal to the rest of the world?
“Let’s just take it slow,” Matt said as he casually slipped the bill out from under Tris’s card. He reeled at the figure but shrugged it off. It was a damn diner tab, and he had to loosen the purse strings occasionally. TD was doing well—due in no small part to their amazingly creative lead designer—and they could afford a few meals out, even if he’d tried and failed to put Tristan on a budget years ago. “We’ll convince Caity to give us a shot, and then we’ll worry about the rest. All right?”
“You’re not convinced either, are you?” Tristan clenched his jaw. “This is just a lark to you. A good fuck. Not what it is to me.”
“You know better than that. I love her every bit as much as you do.”
Words unspoken hung in the air between them, and Matt pressed his lips together to keep from saying more. He’d assumed Tristan knew how he felt, but maybe not. Maybe he needed an affirmation beyond Matt’s feelings for Cait.
Shit, did he really expect him to bust out with an “I love you” in a dingy diner while the Chipmunks’ Christmas song played in the background?
As the silence deepened, Matt took a slow, bracing breath. Apparently he did.
“Look, Tris—”
Tristan held up a hand. “Forget it. We’ll sex her to within an inch of her life, and then everything will be hunky-dory.” He flashed a completely insincere smile. “Hope you’re right.”
Matt leaned back in his booth and grinned. “Of course I am.”
He’d made everything else happen, hadn’t he? Tristan’s impossible business plan, formed out of little more than desire and inspiration. This threesome, with Cait strapped to the bed and awaiting their return. He’d never failed at coming up with a blueprint and then executing it.
He wouldn’t now either. Whatever it took.
Chapter 7
Cait closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to calm her overeager body. She’d been writhing against the sheets for most of the time the men had been gone and she was exhausted.
Matt had left her the remote, so it was her fault the movie they’d made was still running. She’d watched it several times already. Couldn’t stop watching it. But she needed a break.
One thing this night had proven to her was the allure of homemade pornos. Sure, she blushed even thinking about how she’d behaved, but the actual finished product was more than worth it.
Especially when you had not one but two sinfully hot guys as your costars.
Which was why she didn’t understand why tears dripped down her cheeks even as her own moans reached a crescendo onscreen. It was just sex, and not even the full monty. Not yet. They were just having a good time. Surely once Tristan had some time alone to think, he’d get his impulses under control and realize that most regular people didn’t live as part of a threesome.
At least she couldn’t. Anyone else was welcome to do whatever they chose.
And so are you. You can decide to do anything you want.
Even if it would be really easy to tear down the walls separating their apartments in the loft above their office, making it one communal space. With one ginormous bed—
“Stop it,” she whispered, furiously slapping away the mini waterfall coasting off her chin. They’d left her arms unbound this time. Only her ankles were secured. As much as they wanted to pretend it was just another aspect of their sexy times, she suspected they’d selected that particular method of bondage to ensure she’d be there when they returned.
Participating in bondage. Her.
Somehow in one night, everything she’d believed about herself had changed.
She liked to be tied up—as proven by the fact that she hadn’t even fussed when they’d offered to untie her if she promised to stay put in the cabin. She enjoyed being bossed around. Controlled. A guy practically shoving his cock down her throat while he pulled on her hair hadn’t sparked her fantasies before.
Now she’d never forget what it felt like to wield the power of offering the ultimate in pleasure—and the joy of drowning in complete submission under a man’s hand.
Two men, in this case.
One didn’t seem like enough anymore. She loved being the third point of their triangle. It seemed right. They fit.