A long day of training had given her an appetite.
She leaned in the doorway, still damp from her shower, and silently took in the scene. As impressive as the kitchen was, its current occupants were even more so. Dutton, wearing nothing but a pair of ripped jeans, was standing over the hot stove, turning a wooden spoon through a pot of something that smelled heavenly. Reece, dressed in a tank top and gray sweats, was examining the extensive wine rack. As for Nash, the cocky young Merc was sitting at a table at the far end of the room, pretending to sulk. He was dressed in a loose-fitting hoodie and a pair of shorts that showed off all the sexy muscles of his legs.
The sight of those three strong men quietly going about their business was enough to bring Fairchild’s arousal rushing back all over again. Her nipples hardened beneath the fuzzy bathrobe she was wearing, and a wet heat started pooling between her legs.
God.Still?
She thought she would have gotten all those urges out of her system by now. After all, they had spent the entire day training. Following the events in the octagon, Reece had suggested they move to the bedroom for additional practice. Problem was, ithad taken them nearly two hours to actually make it there. The Mercs hadn’t been able to stop bending Fairchild over every piece of furniture that crossed their path, shoving her up against every wall. By the time they’d finally tumbled into the oversized bed, she’d been sore and dripping.
That hadn’t stopped her from putting in several more hours.
As a soldier, she understood the importance of training. Practice didn’t make perfect, but it did make things second nature. Based on the way her body was responding to the sight of her new teammates, Fairchild guessed it was already working.
She watched the guys a moment longer, then she stepped into the kitchen. All three men looked up in unison. They must have caught her scent. She hadn’t made a noise.
Apparently the training was having an effect on them too.
Dutton was closest, so Fairchild went to him first, hugging him from behind. Once they got to Calyxia, they would be expected to behave like a committed polycule, and there was more to that than mere sex. They would have to feign affection for each other as well. Fairchild had thought that would be the hard part, but she was discovering it wasn’t half as difficult as she’d expected. She pressed a kiss into the muscles of Dutton’s back.
“Smells good,” she said. “What is it?”
“Nothing complicated,” Dutton answered in that soft yet deep voice of his. “Just an old Terran recipe: spaghetti with marinara and sausage.”
“Uncomplicated sounds good.” Fairchild shifted her fingers to the top of his jeans and started fiddling with the button. “But, spaghetti? Doesn’t that have a lot of carbs?”
Dutton chuckled softly. It was the first time Fairchild had heard him do that. She liked the way it sounded. She liked it a lot.
“That was Reece’s idea,” he said.
The team leader was scrutinizing a bottle of wine. He spoke without looking up from the label.
“Gotta soften you up a bit before we get to Calyxia. We don’t want you looking like a straight-up killing machine, after all.”
“Fine,” Fairchild said in mock annoyance. “As long as I get plenty of protein too. I think you mentioned something about… sausage?”
She had Dutton’s jeans halfway open, and now she slipped one hand inside. As expected, the soft-spoken Merc was going commando. Fairchild splayed her fingers around the thick base of his shaft. His dick went from a half chub to fully rigid in the space of two heartbeats. He purred mischievously.
“Careful, woman. Distract me too much, and I’m liable to burn our dinner.”
Nearby, Reece grinned and looked up from the bottle he was examining. “And I might screw up the pairing. This is a high-stakes evening all around.”
Fairchild sighed dramatically and carefully withdrew her fingers from the front of Dutton’s pants. She knew if she went deeper, she wouldn’t be able to stop. That was the whole reason she’d gone off to shower by herself. It was the only way for her to actually get clean.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Guess I’ll play with Nash instead.”
The young Merc glanced up at her from under the shade of his hood, giving her his best hurt puppy dog look. He had good reason to pout. His punishment hadn’t ended in the octagon. Once they’d finally made it to the bedroom, Fairchild had discovered an entire closet full of toys. She’d put the handcuffs to good use. The riding crop too.
“Oh, come on,” Fairchild said, looking down at the seated Merc. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore.”
Behind her, Reece snickered as he uncorked the bottle. “Are you talking about his pride, Fairchild, or his butt?”
Nash blushed under his hood.
“Ha-ha, very funny,” he growled, then he shifted his ire to Fairchild. “I want a fucking rematch,” he said. “Tomorrow.”
Fairchild smirked and shook her head.
“Sorry, hot stuff, but I don’t do rematches. Tell you what, though…”
