Chapter 11
Ariel’s heart was racing as she followed the three men into Kester’s bedroom. Her mind was still spinning from trying to process the weird, cryptic conversation Stu and Tarin just had, as if she and Kester hadn’t been in the room.
The two of them obviously had a lot of history. It revolved around a woman, and apparently, she was someone Tarin had been interested in and believed Stu slept with. Five years was a long time to hold that kind of anger.
It was also hard to take sides. Both men had clearly been in the wrong. Tarin had wrongly judged Stuart, and Stuart had let him believe a lie. Who was the woman? And what had happened to cause Tarin to think his best friend had slept with her in the first place?
Ariel might never know. It was not up for discussion. Stu might take it to the grave with him, but at least the two friends had buried the hatchet. For her. For another woman.
Ariel shook the questions from her head and spun around in a circle as the three of them closed in on her, standing next to Kester’s bed. “I’m not fragile, you know. I’m a grown woman. You won’t hurt me.” She boldly reached for her shirt and pulled it over her head. Someone needed to take the first step here. It was going to be her.
Before anyone could take another breath, she popped the button on her jeans and shrugged out of them. Stuart grabbed Tarin’s arm and squeezed as she removed her bra and then her panties.
She set a hand on Tarin’s and Kester’s chests to force them to part, and then she climbed onto the bed and situated herself in the middle, leaning against the pillows. Naked. Vulnerable.
“Merciful God,” Tarin muttered.
Ariel had no idea what came over her except that no one seemed willing to take the next step, and she hoped taking this step would make it impossible for them to continue tiptoeing around the issue. “Anyone want to join me?”
They all stood stock still for several seconds, staring at her.
Tarin was the first to tug his shirt over his head while he kicked off his shoes. He shrugged out of his jeans next and then set a knee on the end of the mattress and crawled toward her. He was still wearing his boxers, but she was okay with that for now.
He knelt at her feet and slid his palms up her calves. “Jesus, Ariel. You’re so gorgeous.” His voice was soft and reverent.
She fought against how awkward she felt, trying to ignore her own nudity. No man had ever seen her naked, and she’d just gone from zero to three. This was huge.
Kester and Stuart both removed shirts and shoes. Kester sat to her left. Stu sat to her right. They’d left their jeans on, and they each took one of her hands.
“Touch me,” she whispered, her gaze on Tarin. Either the air or her arousal was making her nipples hard. She felt restless. She needed someone to touch her. Not just her hands and calves. All of her.
Tarin straddled her legs and crawled up her body. He hovered over her, his palms planted beside her head, his gaze traveling up her torso until finally locking on hers. His slow perusal made her skin tingle. She wished he would drag his fingers everywhere his eyes had just been.
Finally, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her, gently, sweetly. She shuddered when he licked her bottom lip. “So gorgeous,” he murmured. It was nearly impossible to kiss him back. Her lips weren’t taking orders from her brain.
Kester and Stu released her hands to set their palms on her stomach.
She arched into their touch when fingers teased the edge of her breasts. God. She was filled with a desperate need for more. Instead, they were teasing her.
Unable to restrain herself, she reached for their wrists and squeezed. “Please,” she murmured against Tarin’s lips.
“Uh-uh, babe,” Stu admonished in a low tone. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and removed her hand from his to stretch her arm out away from her body. “Kester,” he murmured.
She twisted her head back and forth, trying to see what he was communicating with Kes, but quickly understood when Kester stretched her other arm out alongside his hips, leaving her stretched out like the letter T.
Her breasts swelled and she squirmed, nearly panting with the need for contact. “Please,” she begged again.
“Suck her nipples, Tarin,” Stu commanded as his hand slid up to cup her breast.
She gasped, her mouth falling open at the feel of his fingers circling her breast, holding it out in offering, not touching the nipple.
Tarin kissed her parted lips one more time and then scooted down her body several inches.
“Flick your tongue over the tip,” Stu ordered, altering his demand.
The sound of his voice issuing instructions made her stomach dip and tighten. She squeezed her thighs together as a foreign sensation grew between them.
Arousal. Intense arousal slamming into her after nineteen years of not knowing this kind of sensation.