Crossing the Lines (19 page)

“Perhaps not.” His lips twitched in a brief smile. “Have fun playing in the snow, Alice. Don’t forget to dress warmly.”

The tip of her tongue begged her to suggest he oversee the dressing process before reason intruded. Freedom. Boundaries. She was his friend this afternoon, not his submissive. No time for inappropriate flirting with Henry.

So she assured him she would, and she dressed in her own apartment, and she spent the afternoon in platonic games with Jay.

They defended their well-constructed snow fort against all comers until darkness fell, and they walked home together on the hard-packed snow in the middle of the street. He clasped her hand in his. She followed along, up the stairs, into the apartment. Henry took one look at them and prescribed warm showers, dry clothes and hot chocolate.

Shrugging out of her coat, she trudged down the hall after Jay, exhausted from hours of hurling snowballs. Simple thoughts, simple motions. Undressing. Stepping into the shower. Standing under the spray.

Her brain warmed up in front of Jay’s bare, soapy chest.

Oh fuck.

Raw panic immobilized her. Hot water beat down on her back. Confusion seeped into her head. Henry hadn’t stopped her. Hadn’t taken her arm and steered her across the hall.

Jay treated her presence like a normal occurrence, chattering about the structural integrity of their fort and their snowball-fight domination of a group of college kids. He didn’t try to start something, though she’d barged into his
shower. If his eyes strayed to her breasts and his thawing body managed enough heat for an impressive erection, he didn’t say a word about it.

He understood the difference between playtime and friend-time. She’d been the one to forget.
Sorry, Jay.

The shower curtain shifted with a wave of cooler air.

“Fresh clothes are on the counter for you both. Kitchen when you’re done, please.” Henry didn’t sound upset, but maybe he’d discuss it with her when she wasn’t naked.

He hadn’t stayed to oversee things, though. He must trust them to behave. Jay, at least. Plenty gracious, considering she’d trailed his lover into the shower like she belonged.

Her clothes turned out to be sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt, all similar to Jay’s and appropriately oversize. She tucked the shirts in—both of them—and rolled the pants at the waist so she could walk.

Jay laughed. “You look ridiculous in my clothes.”

She stuck out her tongue. “No, you look ridiculous in your clothes. I look fabulous.”

Henry probably hadn’t been willing to root in her pockets for her keys and rummage through her clothing drawers to bring her something of her own without asking first. He respected boundaries. Unlike her, Miss Waltz in Like She Owns the Place.

She followed Jay to the kitchen.

“At the counter, please,” Henry directed them.

They sat side by side at the breakfast bar. Mugs waited on the far counter, steam rising. Chocolate sweetened the air.

“Did you have fun?” Henry kissed Jay’s cheek and swiveled his chair sideways.

“Tons of fun.” Jay launched into a description of the afternoon as Henry rolled thick socks onto his feet. Henry, listening closely, asked a bevy of questions Jay was only too happy to answer.

She sat straighter as Henry came around to her side.

“I hope you won’t object to accepting some socks today, Alice.” He unfolded a clean pair of heavy-duty tube socks in his hands. Jay’s, probably. “If you’ll allow me?”

Thankfulness left her mute and nodding. Henry wasn’t fussing over her faux pas. Wouldn’t mention her gaffe at all, it seemed.

He cradled her feet and slipped on the socks. She wiggled her toes.

“All right, Alice?”

“Perfect fit,” she teased, laughing at the rings of cotton surrounding her ankles. “I might pull them up to my knees. Over the pants.”

“An interesting fashion statement.” Henry studied her with narrowed eyes and a small smile. Fetching the mugs, he set them in front of her and Jay. “Sufficiently cooled now, I expect.”

Jay lifted his mug and drank deep. She cradled the warmth in her hands and sipped. Hot chocolate, like she’d assumed, but thick, creamy,
chocolatey
hot chocolate. “Is this real chocolate?”

“With milk, yes, and a dash of cinnamon.” Henry leaned against the breakfast bar across from them. “Is the flavor not to your liking, Alice?”

“It’s amazing. I’m used to packets. You know, water, microwave, powder, stir together…” She trailed off at Jay’s horrified expression.

“You’ve never had real hot chocolate? Never? That’s a crime against humanity.”

“It’s not—I mean, my mom just didn’t make it that way.” A rush of defensiveness overtook her twinge of guilt. So what if she hadn’t had homemade hot chocolate? She hadn’t been deprived. Her childhood had been just fine. Worse than some, maybe, but better by miles than others.

“I’m pleased to introduce you to something new, Alice.” Henry’s soft voice soothed. His hand twitched, a gesture that might’ve commanded Jay’s silence. “Tell me, did you have a favorite meal when you came in from the cold?”

She tilted the mug, swirling the liquid chocolate round and round. Jay’d been teasing. She was being oversensitive.

Her distress owed nothing to her family or Jay’s, or how they’d grown up, or the hot chocolate they drank. Jay could request hot chocolate whenever he liked, and Henry would happily provide it at his discretion. She dwelled in borrowed time, her status more tenuous. Contingent upon Henry’s desire and her good behavior. Although he hadn’t scolded her about the shower mix-up.

“Grilled cheese.” She followed the row of buttons up Henry’s shirt to his gentle smile. “With tomato soup for dipping.”

“Then we have our menu for the evening.” Henry began opening cupboards. “Jay, if you’ll set the table, please.” Jay jumped up and pulled open the silverware drawer.

“You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you, Alice? I must apologize for the lack of advance notice. But sometimes a spur-of-the-moment impulse can be highly rewarding.”

She squeezed her mug. The men had their backs to her, pulling cans and plates from the upper cabinets. But understanding Henry’s meaning didn’t require rocket science. He’d punished himself, but he wasn’t sorry. He didn’t regret taking her across the dining room table nearly seven months ago. He found their friendship and their contract arrangement rewarding. He enjoyed teaching her new things.

“I’ll stay.” She sipped her hot chocolate. Just right. “Anything I can help with?”

Henry set Jay to mashing canned peeled tomatoes—the flavor being more consistent in the winter than fresh, he insisted—and taught her to cut an onion under running water and grate fresh garlic. In less than thirty minutes, they sat down to bowls of creamy tomato soup and grilled sandwiches oozing with spicy Colby jack.

When they finished eating, Jay drew her into a discussion of Hitchcock. Henry was in the middle of introducing him to the director’s films, and staying for
North by Northwest
wasn’t optional.

“A spy film. Action and intrigue! Henry promised I’d like this one.” Jay tugged her toward the living room. “You know you want to see it.”

Somehow, she ended up sitting beside Henry on the couch with his arm around her shoulders. Jay curled up on Henry’s other side, his head propped on a pillow in Henry’s lap. For more than two hours. They talked about the film until midnight, resurrecting her days of hanging out in college dorm rooms, spouting crazy theories and following winding trains of conversation without any destination.

Only later, when she snuggled into her pillow and shifted irritably on her futon, did the truth threaten her sanity. She’d gotten comfortable in Henry and Jay’s bed. In their daily routines. In their lives.

I am so fucked.

7

The door opened to Alice’s knock at seven PM, but no one stood on the other side to greet her. She stepped inside, craning her neck in a hunt for Jay or Henry and scooting forward as the door started to close.

The doorman was revealed as Jay—an expected occurrence.

An absolutely bare-ass naked Jay. An
un
expected occurrence.

No wonder he’d stayed behind the door.

When he turned and reached for her wrist, her inaccuracy glinted. Not naked. A dark-green ring circled the base of his erect cock. Utterly fuckable.

Henry’s thirty-ninth birthday was two days away. Maybe he’d planned a special game tonight to celebrate.

Jay led her to Henry’s bedroom without speaking. The mystery and anticipation enhanced the foreplay and her excitement. They stopped in the doorway, Jay’s halt so sudden she almost walked into him.

Beyond his shoulder, the bedroom lights spotlighted an area away from the bed. The two metal brackets in the ceiling, the ones she’d assumed to be hooks for plants or model airplanes or any number of innocuous items, held a metal bar between them. From the bar descended a short length of rope.

She touched Jay’s back in an instinctive quest for reassurance. Warm skin. Connection.

“Bring her in so I may see her, Jay.”

Henry’s voice, though she couldn’t—oh. He occupied the leather chair on the far side of the room, shadowed and indistinct.

Jay led her in and stood her in the light. His hand dropped from her wrist as he stepped away.

“Turn, Alice. All the way around, please.”

Her slow turn rustled her dress against her knees. The deep blue heavy-knit cotton with a square bodice and an empire waist wasn’t fancy, but Henry assessing her body in it seemed to make it the sexiest thing she owned.

“Lovely,” he murmured, and she flushed with the praise. “Perhaps we’ll think on the possibilities of blue for another night. At the moment, I wish to see something more pink. Jay, if you would.”

Jay returned to her, his hands skimming up her back over the dress and grasping the zipper. He lowered it with a slow pull until the track ended at the upper curve of her buttocks. His fingers pressed into her skin. Hands sliding upward, he parted the back of the dress, pushing the straps down her arms until the fabric slithered off her body.

The undergarments, a gift from Henry, nearly matched the dress. His pleased hum raised goose bumps on her skin. Jay’s cock twitched with appreciation above the edge of her panties. “Tell me, Alice, do you enjoy wearing the clothing I’ve chosen for you?”

She’d worn Henry’s gifts on most of their nights, but he’d never said a word on the subject.

“Yes, Henry.” Putting on the bras and panties, knowing he’d pictured her and found her desirable in the clothes, excited her. She didn’t fight feminist principles over it. Her turn-ons were her own. She refused to feel somehow less for having and indulging them.

“Do you only wear them here, for me?”

Uh-oh. Was she supposed to wear them only for him? The bra-and-panty sets he’d gotten her weren’t blatantly erotic—not see-through, not covered in annoying lace, not uncomfortably cut and made to be worn for five minutes.

“Or do you wear them when you go out into the world?”

He’d given her tasteful pieces with high-end quality, and she hadn’t for one minute considered not wearing them elsewhere.

“I wear them out.” On their Fridays, especially, she wore them under her work clothes to remind her of what waited for her at the end of the day. As if he created the fabric’s supportive embrace with his hands on her instead. “To work.”

“Because they feel good against your skin?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s more, isn’t there, Alice? Tell me truthfully, now.”

“I…wearing them reminds me of you. That I, that you…” Oh God. She couldn’t tell him it made her feel like his lover. Jay was his lover. What she had with them was an amusement, an imitation of the real thing.

“Mmm. You sit in an office environment surrounded by men all day, don’t you, Alice?” Fabric shirred against leather. Henry moving. Standing? “And you wear the intimate pieces I’ve chosen for you, and you imagine, perhaps, that these men sense my claim on you? That they know how you belong to me?”

“Yes, Henry.” She squinted, trying to pierce the darkness beyond where she and Jay waited, illuminated for him.