A few more minutes passed, and Bailey hopped to her feet. With all eyes on her, she marched into the kitchen. She set her plate on the counter, somehow resisting the urge to throw it. This wasn’t what she’d wanted. She wasn’t interested in awkward silence. She didn’t have to endure it when she was with them separately, and she didn’t think they had a problem when she wasn’t around, so why couldn’t they do this? The only answer she could come up with was that it wasn’t meant to work like this.
And that hurt more than she was willing to admit.
“I can’t do this,” she said, grabbing the bottle of wine and her glass. “If you two can figure out how to make this work, I’ll be in my room.”
With that, she turned and stomped across the room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her for good measure.
***
“Aren’t you gonna go after her?” Holtasked Rafe.
Rafe glared at him. “Me? I’m not the one who came up with this stupid idea.”
“You really think it’s stupid?”
“I think it’s backfirin’ in your face. You can’t force somethin’ that’s not there.”
Oh, it was there, all right. Not all of this tension was due to Rafe being somewhere he didn’t want to be, and Bailey being torn between two men. An underlying passion connected the three of them, and Holt had no doubt that if they’d give it a chance, it would work.Howhe knew that, he couldn’t say, but he’d always trusted his gut.
Holt got to his feet. He obviously wouldn’t be eating until they cleared the air. And he knew one surefire way to ease the tension.
He returned to the kitchen to set his plate on the counter by Bailey’s, then took a swig of his beer. He set the bottle down and walked over to Rafe.
The man’s eyes tracked him, watching Holt like he was a black bear looking for an easy meal.
“What are you doin’?” Rafe asked when Holt took his hand.
“We’re not goin’ far.”
Holt felt Rafe’s reluctance to follow.
“Trust me, Rafe. If nothing else, know that we’re not here to hurt you.”
Skepticism glittered in Rafe’s brown eyes, but he managed to take three more steps so that he was standing at the threshold between the breakfast nook and the living room. The space was open to the kitchen, but support beams created separators between the two spaces, and this post was all Holt needed.
With dramatic movements, Holt turned Rafe so that his back was against the wide beam wrapped in smooth, glossy cedar. Rafe’s expression was a mix of curiosity and confusion, but he wasn’t running for the door, so Holt considered that a good thing.
He caressed the hard line of Rafe’s jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m gonna kiss you. And you’re gonna kiss me back.”
“Bailey’s—”
Holt cut him off by pressing his mouth to Rafe’s. He hadn’t forgotten about Bailey. He knew where she was, and he figured she would eventually emerge when she was curious about what they were doing. And when she did, they would have their answers on whether this would work. And while he wasn’t projecting his uncertainty, Holt silently prayed that this would not backfire in his face as Rafe said.
“Kiss me,” Holt murmured against Rafe’s mouth. “Like you did that night.”
A soft hum came from Rafe’s throat, his shoulders relaxing, his lips more pliant.
Holt didn’t relent until he felt the urgency building in Rafe. It didn’t take long before it mirrored his own, that desperate need awakening now that they were together. It had been so long. Too long. By far, the one night he’d had with Rafe had been the most intense of his life. He wanted to experience that again. Only he wanted Bailey to join them because, with both of them, a night of passion would blow his previous best night to smithereens.
Holt flicked a button on Rafe’s shirt open. “You good?”
Rafe nodded, leaning into Holt.
Holt took his time, relishing the sweep of Rafe’s tongue against his own. It started slow, but it didn’t take long before their hunger took over. The brief teasing session at Rafe’s apartment had left Holt on edge, but he wasn’t doing this for himself. He was offering a distraction. One he knew Rafe couldn’t resist.
Once Rafe’s shirt was open, he planted his palms on his sides and felt those rock-hard muscles tense beneath his touch. The man’s body was nothing but finely chiseled muscle and sinew. Holt dragged his thumbs along the line that bisected Rafe’s abs, moving upward slowly, feeling every groove of his perfectly sculpted torso. He kept going until he was palming Rafe’s chest, the soft, dark hair tickled his palms as the muscles flexed.
Holt leaned into Rafe, letting him bear his weight while their mouths ate at one another. He teased Rafe’s nipples, gently tugging before sliding his hands down, curling them over Rafe’s hips, and dipping his thumbs and fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Their grunts and groans grew louder as the temperature in the room soared from the heat churning between them.
