The Silk Tie (Erotic Threesome Romance) Read online

  This was going to get really complicated.

  “Hey,” Gabe said, strolling naked from the bathroom. “All okay?”

  “Yeah,” Brent said, turning to him. “Might need a few minutes to recover from that, though.”

  Gabe chuckled, bent and kissed my cheek. “Yeah, considerably more energetic than the tennis and that was pretty full-on.”

  Brent stretched his arms over his head, flashing his dark, damp underarm hair then arched his back, extending his torso. “I guess rather than sleeping I should shower and make you guys some lunch before you have to hit the road.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to London with us?” Gabe asked. “We could give you a ride.”

  “Nah, I have some things to organize here.”

  I thought about the charity event and how much planning that must take. “Perhaps we’ll see you in the week, before the court case,” I said.

  “Yes.” He turned to me. Again that dark, sexy look flashed through his eyes. “I’d like that, very much.”

  I glanced at Gabe.

  Surprise flitted across his face. Had he guessed that there was a new simmering attraction between me and Brent that we were only just realizing existed? Only just admitting to?

  I stood. There hadn’t been any plans to see one another after this weekend, after they’d fucked each other stupid, yet here was me, the one making them. But the need to have another firm arrangement to see Brent was acute. I couldn’t just walk away.

  “I’m back in London on Tuesday,” Brent said, rolling onto his side then standing. “We could do dinner.”

  “Perhaps you’ll let me cook,” I said, walking back to the dressing table and picking up my nail file. “Return the favor.”

  Gabe laughed, though it was a little stiffly. “We’ll see. Hales is usually too tired after a day in court to cook.”

  “Then we’ll get takeout,” I said, buffing my thumbnail.

  “Whatever suits,” Brent said with a slight shrug and turning. “I’m easy.” He wandered out of the room and shut the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I sat at my desk and put my head in my hands. It had been an intense day of meetings with clients and partners and my brain felt fried. It didn’t help that I’d worn a pair of new Vera Wang shoes and there was a suspicious blister-like burning on my left heel.

  My concentration had waned several times. I kept thinking of yesterday. Gabe and Brent fucking and the incredibleness of seeing my husband so full of carnal passion for a man—it had been such a turn on and the memory would be with me always.

  I’d also let the knowledge settle that I was attracted to Brent. More than attracted, he’d touched a place deep inside of me. There was something almost magical about him—which was fanciful thinking—and I kept picturing his eyes, lazy and sated yet full of new passion and desire. I wondered if he’d seen the same reflected in mine and if he’d known it was for him, or if he’d written it off as my being excited at what I’d just seen.

  The trip back to London had been quiet. Gabe, I presumed, was either sad that he’d used his pass for sleeping with Brent or had suspected some of my new feelings for his lover.

  I’d looked out of the window and thought about what I’d overheard Gabe and Brent talking about in the snug that time. Brent saying he was attracted to the person not the gender, and although he felt it was commendable that same-sex marriages were now legal he was dismayed that polygamy was still so taboo.

  Not that I wanted a polyamarous relationship—well, I’d never really thought about it—but images of us having a threesome were creeping into my mind. I thought of Gabe and Brent fucking, then pausing and kissing me, all over, exploring my body the way they did each other’s. Gabe kissing me, Brent licking my pussy. Gabe fucking me while Brent sank his cock into my mouth.

  By the time we’d reached Chelsea I was a mass of confusion. It was as if I’d opened the floodgates on a new rushing wave of my sexual fantasies.

  I lifted my head and reached for my bag. I needed to reconstruct some of my makeup before I headed to The Golden Goose.

  I applied a sweep of bright red lipstick, powdered my nose and redid my mascara. I ran my fingers through my hair, fluffing it slightly, then added a squirt of Marc Jacobs’ Daisy to my wrists and neck. I’d do, as long as my feet held up.

  Ten minutes later, I wandered into The Golden Goose. It wasn’t as busy as usual, but then it was only a Monday evening. Stress levels seemed to progress as the week went on, making that after-work alcoholic beverage more necessary.

  I spotted Gabe at the back, in one of the booths we often managed to claim. They were a bit more private if we were talking about cases. He had a bottle of beer and a glass of white wine in front of him.

  I strutted toward him, ignoring the pain in my heel. I knew a couple of guys watched my progress so I swayed my ass a little more. It wasn’t something I usually did but I felt brimming with sex and sexy thoughts. My weekend had fulfilled my fantasies and generated more.

  I wondered if those men, looking at my tight short skirt and delicate silk blouse, would be shocked if they knew what I’d seen, what I’d allowed my husband to do.

  “Hey,” I said, reaching Gabe and leaning in for a kiss. He’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt.

  “Oh, hi.”

  I touched my lips to his.

  “You all right?” I asked, sliding onto the seat opposite him and tucking my purse into the corner, between my body and the wall.

  “Yes.”

  “Sure?”

  He drank from his bottle of beer. When he pulled it away there was a small drop sitting on his lower lip. He licked it off.

  “You had a stressful day in the office?” I asked.

  “Not really.”

  Oh, there was definitely something up. Gabe wasn’t prone to sulking, but I could tell by the vertical line between his eyebrows that he was pissed off.

  I took a sip of wine. “So tell. You’ve got a face like a cat’s arse.”

  “Brent Dawson. That’s what’s up.”

  I took another sip, bigger this time. “What about him?”

  He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I keep thinking about him.”

  “About the weekend?”

  “Yes, and…”

  “And what?”

  “I…I didn’t expect to feel like this, Hales.” He frowned.

  I saw that he wasn’t pissed off—he was scared and vulnerable.

  I reached for his hand. “Feel like what? You can tell me, you know you can.”

  He nodded and glanced around as though making sure no one could overhear. They couldn’t.

  “Have you been thinking about him or the sex?” I asked.

  “Jesus…” He shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know…” He lowered his voice and stared into my eyes. “Both, I guess.”

  “You were amazing together,” I said quietly. “It was such a turn on for me to see you like that. I’ve been thinking about it today, too. Not good when in a meeting with the senior partners.”

  “You were thinking about Brent?”

  “About both of you, together.” I paused. “You fulfilling your fantasy, Gabe. That was what I was thinking about.”

  I glanced away and checked out a woman’s new season Prada handbag as she walked past.

  “You’ve invited him to our house, Hayley,” Gabe said, pulling his hand from mine and picking at the label on his beer the way he usually did.

  “Was that wrong of me?”

  I expected him to say no but he didn’t. He sipped his beer then squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

  “Gabe,” I said. “What’s the matter? We’ve been to his home. Twice.”

  “I know.” He opened his eyes and dropped his hand to the table. “I just…”

  “What? For crying out loud, spit it out.”

  “I kind of thought that would be it, this weekend, but
it isn’t, is it?”

  “It is if you want it to be.”

  “I don’t want it to be.” He shook his head and rubbed at his temple. “But it’s all so much. What’s going on inside my head, my heart.”

  “Your heart?”

  “Yes.” He pressed his knuckles to his chest, creasing his navy tie.

  “Why? Do you love him?” Fuck, that was a big word to throw into the mix.

  “No, of course not. What we have—had—was attraction. We’ve acted out a fantasy…but I do love you.”

  I tipped my head. “And that’s a problem why?”

  “Because…” He leaned forward so his face was much closer to mine.

  I studied the shape of his eyebrows, not wanting to gaze into his eyes in case he saw the longing for Brent in mine.

  “I’ve seen it in his eyes, Hayley, and I’ve seen it in yours.”

  Too damn late.

  “Seen what?” I resisted gulping. I had a bloody good idea what he was going to say next—a really bloody good idea.

  “He wants to fuck you and you want to fuck him.”

  I pressed my lips together; my belly lurched and my chest ached. There had been something dangerous about the way Gabe had spoken. He hadn’t liked saying those words—putting them out there in the open had hurt.

  “What makes you think that?” I asked, trying to hold my voice steady and look him in the eye.

  “Because there’s always more, isn’t there? I was a fool to think being a voyeur was enough for a sexual person like you.”

  “It was…” I couldn’t quite inject conviction into my tone. “Really.”

  “That first time, maybe. If we’d only done it once. But hell, I saw how you looked at him when he was lying on the bed freshly fucked. You wanted him too, your eyes were ablaze with it and so were his.”

  “But, I won’t, I wouldn’t—”

  “So you’re not denying it.”

  “Denying what?” Damn, I needed to buy time to gather my thoughts.

  “That you want to fuck Brent Dawson.” He sat back, folded his arms and flattened his mouth. He gave me a look that almost dared me to dispute his statement.

  There was something about the gesture that really riled me. I sat up straighter and set down my shoulders. “Gabriel Stone,” I said sternly, “you have got a real bloody nerve to act huffy about this.”

  “No I haven’t. The deal was me and…” He glanced around again and leaned forward. “Me and him, not you.”

  “I know, and that’s what it’s been. Nothing more.”

  “But you want it to be.”

  “I never said that.” I titled my chin.

  “You don’t have to. I can see it.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip and thought about my options. There was no way I was going to lose Gabe over this, or even upset him anymore than he was, but I was no pushover. He couldn’t put words in my mouth or accuse me of something that I hadn’t done. “Say I did. Say I fancied the fucking pants off Brent, it doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it. I’m not that bloody weak that I want to shag every handsome bloke that I see.”

  “But don’t you understand what position this puts me in?”

  “It doesn’t put you in any position.” I held out my palms. “Does it?”

  “Of course it does.” He frowned and the crease between his eyes deepened to a small trench.

  “Why does it?”

  “Because you let me have my fantasy and it’s only fair that I let you fulfill yours.”

  Jesus, had he really just said that? I drank my wine and was grateful for the cool liquid smoothing its way over my throat. “This isn’t the same.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No, it isn’t, don’t you see?”

  “And why do you think that, Hayley?”

  “Because…bloody hell, Gabe. It’s not as if I don’t know what it’s like to fuck a man, is it? Say it was a girl I was crushing on then yeah, that would be the same, but this isn’t.”

  He stared at me—it was the witness-cracking stare he used at work.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said.

  “What?” He shifted his eyebrows and gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

  “Look at me like I’m lying.”

  “I’m not, I’m just trying to figure out what it is you want.”

  “You, Gabe. You, my husband, my lover, my best friend. I want you.”

  He smiled at that, just a little.

  “So I’ll uninvite him,” I said. “Well, you’ll have to. I don’t have his number.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  I took another drink. “But if—”

  “Fuck, I want to see him, Hayley. I can’t just leave it at this…” He pressed the points of his fingers to his temples.

  “Gabe,” I said, reaching over and wrapping my fingers around his wrists. “It’s okay. It’s okay to feel confused, it’s been a hell of a few weeks for all of us.”

  “I’m not confused.” He moved his hands. “Not now. I’ve figured it out.”

  I scrunched up my brow. “Go on.”

  “Yes,” he said, leaning close again. A shard of triumph crossed his face. “I’ve got it.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes, you can fuck him.”

  “What?” How could he switch from thinking it was a disastrous idea to appearing almost excited?

  “Yes, you can wear your strap-on and fuck him up the arse.” He pressed his lips together and glanced around. “Fuck him with me there, watching—that way we’re all even.”

  “Are you being serious?” I couldn’t deny the idea appealed. Because it did, a lot. But really, me shove my toy cock up Brent’s bum?

  “Yes.” He nodded and took my hand. “I just…I just don’t think I could handle seeing him inside you, Hales. Maybe I’m a hypocrite, perhaps I’m grossly selfish, I don’t know—”

  “It’s okay, you’re just being honest.”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m trying to be.”

  “And if you think that’s something too far out of your comfort zone then it’s fine, it won’t happen.” I drained my wine. “Has it occurred to you, though, that Brent might not want that? He might not want silicone when he can have the real thing.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but my bets are he’ll be up for a threesome with two cocks.”

  It was my turn to glance around. The woman with the fancy handbag was looking at us.

  “Jesus, Gabe, you should keep your voice down.”

  A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Maybe it’s time to stop worrying and take what we want, Hayley, and if we want Brent we should have him. Both of us.”

  * * * *

  The next day, I planned to finish work early but got caught up in paperwork and phone calls. By the time I kicked my heels into the corner of the hallway, I only had one hour before Brent was due round. Gabe was meeting him at The Golden Goose with the intention of talking to him about our plans and seeing if he was up for it.

  My stomach rolled at the thought of him saying no. Since Gabe had mentioned it the night before it was all I could think about and it seemed the perfect solution to everyone’s longing.

  I whacked the oven on and put a pot of potatoes on to boil. I too could cook, when I had the time and inclination.

  I then raced up the stairs and leaped through the shower. I only wanted to freshen up and didn’t bother with blow-drying my hair afterwards or applying lots of makeup. A new set of black lace underwear and a short, floaty red dress with black seams sealed my look. I decided to go barefoot. The weather was warm and the outfit kept me cool and casual.

  I dashed down the stairs, then put three duck breasts in the oven and opened a container of fresh orange sauce that proclaimed it to be the perfect accompaniment. It would have to do; no way did I have time to make a sauce from scratch.

  I then quickly whizzed up a punnet of strawberries, added honey to the mixture and checked that I had
a tub of my favorite berry sorbet in the freezer. I did. I’d make my own version of Eton Mess by adding a few bashed-up, bought meringues. It would look homemade enough.

  After pouring a glass of wine, I set the outside table. I used my best cutlery and plucked a few flowers from the bunch Gabe had bought me to stand in a small, narrow-necked vase. I gave the sundial a quick wipe—it was covered in tiny seeds—then brushed a few stray leaves into the corner and lit a citronella candle.

  I’d just set out a bowl of crisps on the counter when Gabe’s key rattled in the lock.

  I dragged in a deep breath. This was it.

  Brent’s voice floated toward me. He was chatting about some book he’d read.

  Quickly, I wiped my hands on a tea towel and had another sip of wine, then wished I hadn’t. I’d smell like I’d drank the bottle.

  “Hey, there you are,” Gabe said, coming into the kitchen. “Smells good.” He kissed my cheek.

  “Thanks, I hope it tastes good too.”

  Brent stood in the doorway, filling the frame with his wide shoulders. Like Gabe, he wore a neat, dark suit and his tie was still knotted tight.

  I caught my breath a little. A few days of not seeing him and I was blown away all over again by his attractiveness and that heart-stoppingly sexy way of looking at me he’d developed.

  Gabe must have told him.

  That was all I could think. It was the only explanation for the sultry gaze he was giving me.

  “Hayley,” he said, walking up to me. He cupped my elbow in his palm and, as Gabe had, he touched his lips to my cheek. “Thanks for inviting me for dinner.”

  “It’s a pleasure.” I smiled. “And you have cooked for us several times recently so you’re owed a meal.”

  He stepped back. “Is there somewhere I can wash up?”

  “Yes, second door on the left in the hallway,” Gabe said.

  Brent smiled and walked out of the room.

  As soon as the downstairs bathroom door shut, I turned to Gabe. “Well? What did he say?”

  Gabe shook his head. “I didn’t mention it.”

  “What?” Disappointment sagged within me.

  “It just…there was someone else he knew at The Golden Goose, and he insisted on having a drink with us. Then on the Tube…well, it’s hardly the sort of thing you bring up, is it? Hey, my wife wants to do you with her strap-on while I watch, is that okay with you as after dinner light entertainment?”