Page 35 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

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MARLA

Silence crashes through the cottage like a physical force. All three men stare at me with expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to something that might be amusement.

The only sound is my own ragged breathing and the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I can feel heat flooding my face, spreading down my neck and across my chest, and I want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

But I've never been one to back down, even when I'm humiliated beyond belief. I lift my chin and meet their stares head on, refusing to let them see how mortified I am. "Sharon convinced me that casual sex would give me the experience I need to write better romance novels. I thought if I could just have some one-night-stands with attractive men, I'd understand what I was writing about. I didn't know who any of you were. I didn't know you knew each other. I certainly didn't know you were all businessmen in the middle of merger negotiations."

Russ is the first one to break.

He throws his head back and laughs, a genuine sound of shocked amusement that fills the small space. "You're telling me," he says between laughs, "that you slept with all three of us because you're writing a fucking romance novel?"

"It's not funny," I snap, but my cheeks are burning even hotter now.

"It's a little funny," Russ counters, still grinning.

Alex hasn't laughed. He's studying me with that same intense focus from our night together, like he's trying to determine if I'm insane or just incredibly naive. "You decided to have casual sex with men you knew nothing about because you wanted material for a book," he says slowly, and it's not a question. "That's possibly the most reckless thing I've ever heard."

"Sharon said you were regulars at the club. Rich businessmen. I thought you'd be safe."

"Safe," Nick repeats, and there's something dark in his tone. "We're the furthest thing from safe."

The words hang in the air, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. But it's not fear. It's something else entirely.

The tension in the cottage shifts.

The accusations and suspicion fade, replaced by something heated and dangerous.

All three men are looking at me differently now, and the air grows thick with a different kind of intensity.

Russ moves closer, leaning against the back of my couch with that playful grin that made me fall into bed with him the first time. "You know," he says casually, but there's heat in his light eyes, "if you're really serious about this research, you're missing a pretty significant experience."

My heart starts beating faster. "What do you mean?"

"You've had sex with each of us individually," he continues, his gaze locked on mine. "But you haven't experienced all three of us at once."

The suggestion hits me low in my belly. Goosebumps break out all over my body. I stare at him, my mouth falling open slightly as my brain tries to process what he just said. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Alex asks. When I turn to look at him, I can see genuine interest in his dark eyes. "You wanted experience. You wanted to understand passion. This would certainly give you material."

"That's insane," I say, but my voice comes out breathless. "You three were just accusing me of being a spy ten minutes ago."

Nick looks at me, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "Right now, we're all interested in the same thing."

"Which is?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"You," all three of them say in unison.

The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger.

I should say no.

I should tell them to leave. But as the silence stretches and I look at each of them in turn, I realize I'm not going to do that.

Because despite the fear and the humiliation and the absolute insanity of this situation, I'm curious.

More than curious.