Even better.
And still, the fact that she had a connection to Reid made all this feel…dangerous. He feared it and desired it in almost equal measure.
“Elliot,” she whispered.
He touched her face, tracing the line of her jaw. “Do you want this? That’s the only answer that matters, Merritt.”
She blinked down at him and nodded. “I…do. But it isn’t the only answer that matters. Because it isn’t only my decision.” She looked at Reid. “Peter?”
“Merry,” he whispered in return.
Elliot speared him with a sharp look. “You want her. I’m not such a fool that I can’t see it written all over your face whether your tongue is buried in her while she screams or you’re simply standing a room near her. So I know what you just did cannot be enough for you. You must want to feel her come around your cock. You must want to know how every inch of her skin tastes.”
Reid shut his eyes and a great shudder worked through him. “Yes,” he finally admitted.
Merritt’s fingers dug into Elliot’s shoulders at the admission and she rocked against him gently.
“And you want him to stretch you, don’t you?” Elliot asked her, and reveled in how her pupils dilated with renewed desire. “To feel your legs shake around his hips like they have so many times around mine?”
She stared at him a long time, her gaze slowly narrowing as if she was trying to read some ulterior motive in him. He held there, hiding any secrets he might not wish to tell. Her lips pursed and the spark lit up in her stare.
God, how he loved seeing it there. Knowing how easily she could turn it on him and light up his entire world.
“What I want, if we’re all being honest, Elliot, is to feel both of you inside of me at the same time.” She arched a brow in challenge and then glanced at Peter.
Elliot did the same and found the other man staring, his cock already coming back to life at the image she created. Elliot’s was doing the same. He’d never shared a woman before. Oh, how he wanted to share her.
“Very good, my lady,” Elliot said softly as he smiled at her.
She shook her head slightly and then pushed from his lap and off the bed. She swept up the robe that had been left on a nearby chair by her maid and slung it over her shoulders.
“But first,” she said, padding to the door without looking back at either of them, confident as a queen, “I want to eat.”
CHAPTER4
Merritt
Merritt sat at the cozy wooden table set in the corner of the cottage’s kitchen, watching Elliot put together an elaborate sandwich for her across the room. Peter sat next to her, staring at the same.
“The Marquess of Egerton…makes food?” Peter finally said in an awed and confused tone.
The corner of Elliot’s lips quirked briefly as he set her plate in front of her. “Only for her,” he corrected, and took a long moment to look at Peter. “And only on special occasions. But for you I’ll make an exception, Mr. Reid.”
Elliot turned away and went back to fix his own plate and Peter’s. When he returned, he sat down next to her on the other side and briefly leaned in to kiss her before they all began to eat.
She picked at her food even though her stomach rumbled, and looked back and forth at the two men who flanked her. On the surface they could not be more different: dark and light, titled and not, rich and…well, Peter couldn’t exactly be called poor anymore. He had built himself up as a sought-after playwright. Thanks to Elliot, it seemed.
Elliot arched a brow at how she wasn’t eating. She playfully glared at his silent order before she took a bite of the sandwich. God, that was good. He did know what she liked. Always. And what she wanted. Which made her ponder the two of them even further.
“You know I’m still not entirely sure how we got here,” she said at last. “How did you two meet and when? And how did you end up in my parlor today, Peter?”
Peter finished chewing before he spoke, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Let me see. About seven years ago I had a little play produced in a rundown theatre in one of the worst districts in London. I’d been fighting for years to have something I’d written put on and even though I knew it was a dreadful production and only a handful of people came…most of whom were drunk…I was still proud.”
“As you should be,” Merritt said.
“On the closing night of the production I was told, and let me quote exactly what was said…some rich toff is here to see you.”
Elliot smiled slightly at the description and leaned back in his chair to watch the story be told. Once again, Merritt recognized the pretended nature of his casual posture. This was Elliot on the hunt. How many times had she been the prey? But this time he was watching Peter. She shivered at the realization.
