Not Until You: Part I (3 page)

“No, really. This is fine,” I said, waving him off.

“Nah, come on. I’m not letting you off that easy. We were supposed to play Never Have I Ever. Anything you’ve never done that you’re dying to do?”

The list I’d written seemed to warm in my pocket. I shrugged, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.

Foster glanced at the clock on the cable box. “It’s still early. We could take you out to celebrate in style. Pike can get into any club within a hundred-mile radius once he tells them he’s the drummer in Darkfall.”

Pike sniffed. “And Foster can bribe us into the swankier ones that want to keep me out for the same reason.”

I glanced down at my outfit. “I’m not dressed for that. And I know y’all didn’t have plans to go out tonight.”

“Plans can change,” Pike said.

I pressed my lips together, my logical side telling me to call it a night, stop while I was ahead. But the thought of going out with these two, possibly dancing with them, had my pulse climbing. “I’ll need more alcohol before either of you can convince me to dance in public.”

Pike laughed. “That can be arranged. You up for it, Foster?”

Foster looked at me, his blue-eyed gaze seeming to penetrate right through all my attempts at a calm facade. “You sure you want to spend your big night with the two of us, Cela?”

The question and his tone seemed to hold more layers than the simple words he’d said. And for a second I wondered if he knew what I’d been thinking, knew why I’d talked myself into coming over here in the first place, knew about that list tucked against my hip. But of course, there was no way he could know all that.

I met his stare head on, my bravery building like a staircase beneath my feet, one tentative step after the other until I could see the door to the unknown rising before me, beckoning me to open it. My chest rose and fell with a steadying breath. “I couldn’t think of two better guys to spend the night with.”

His jaw twitched and something feral flashed through his eyes as he stood. “All right, Cela. Then go back to your apartment, put on something for dancing, and meet us downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

The authority in his voice scattered my thoughts like dry leaves on a windy day. I scrambled to gather them back together. “Fifteen minutes? But I’ll need to redo my makeup and do something with my hair.”

“No.” He walked toward me, frowning in a way that cut off my words. “You don’t need any of that. You look great already.”

“Agreed,” Pike chimed in.

I rose to my feet, feeling vulnerable and quivery with Foster looming over me. “Thanks, but—”

He reached out, his hand going to the back of my head, and my words got log jammed in my throat. He tugged at the clip I’d twisted my hair into, and released it, letting my hair tumble down my back.

“And wear your hair down,” he said, pressing the clip into my hand as he bent forward. His lips brushed the shell of my ear. “I want to be able to run my fingers through it when we’re dancing.”

All air evaporated from my lungs.

He backed away and smiled casually, as if he’d simply informed me of the weather forecast. “See you in fifteen, neighbor.”

I clutched the clip to my stomach, not trusting myself to respond, and turned toward the door. I had to be having a dream. I’d dozed off on my couch and was spinning erotic fantasies in my sleep.

But when I got back to my apartment and pinched my arm, everything was still the same.

Everything except me.

Chapter 4

Foster paced the apartment lobby, stalking the small space and trying to quell the hum of anticipation running through him. He checked his watch—five minutes past when he’d told Cela to be here. If she were his sub, every one of those late minutes would be earning her a fun punishment for later.

But of course, she wasn’t his. He doubted Cela had ever even heard of sexual submission. She screamed innocence with every unintentional dip of her lashes, every unsure smile. He’d had to fight a hard-on sitting across from her in his apartment, despite the fact that minutes before, he’d jerked off in the shower to thoughts of her.

Pike leaned against the wall of mailboxes and crossed his arms, the picture of placidity. “What did you whisper to her before she left?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Foster had said the first thing that had sprung to his lips, had been unable to resist seeing those sable locks fall over her shoulders and telling her how much he wanted to run his fingers through them. It’d been stupid. He’d felt her startled panic electrify the scant column of air between them. Maybe all the innuendo he’d been playing with tonight had gone over her head. Maybe she had simply wanted to go out and dance—as friends, neighbors.

“Maybe she’s not coming,” Foster said, forcing himself to stand still. Pacing was going to do no good, and perhaps it was better if she didn’t show up. She’d been as jumpy as a bird on the highway as she’d stood in their doorway. She was too sweet for what he and Pike brought to the table. They could break her. Or at the very least, freak her the fuck out.

Unfortunately, her sweetness was the very thing that had Foster’s dominant side busting through the seams and hijacking his best intentions to stay away from Cela.

“There’s our girl,” Pike said, coming up behind Foster as red high heels appeared on the top step, drawing Foster’s rapt attention. Red. Shoes that said she wasn’t going to spend the night at the library. Cela’s bare calves came next—smooth, touchable skin that sent Foster’s heart rate speeding up. Then a snug black dress came into view, one that hugged her above the knee and molded over flared hips and a narrow waist.

A bolt shot straight downward to Foster’s cock.

Pike’s hands landed on Foster’s shoulders from behind. “And holy fuck does she look hot.”

Pike had stolen the thoughts right out of Foster’s head. Ms. Lives in Scrubs looked like a goddamned pin-up girl sashaying down those stairs. The only thing that didn’t match the come–hither outfit and fuck-me shoes was the hesitant expression on her face.

When she hit the bottom step, she offered them both a tentative smile. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I couldn’t find my shoes. I haven’t worn them in a while.”

Pike stepped around Foster and took both of Cela’s hands in his, holding her arms outward so he could get a good look. “Damn, doc. I changed my mind. Let’s send Foster out to dance, and you can just come back upstairs with me.”

A laugh broke through the nervous compression of her lips, proving she wasn’t immune to Pike’s natural gift of putting women at ease.

Pike guided her into a little twirl, giving Foster a delicious view of how the material clung to the curve of her ass. “You look smoking.”

“Thanks.” She sent a shy glance Foster’s way, hope for his approval in her eyes.

The move reached into Foster’s gut, wrenched something sideways. He took her hand and kissed it. “You look stunning, Cela. And if you make one move to go back upstairs with Pike, I’m tackling his ass.”

Her pleased look had him tightening his hold on her fingers, not wanting to let her go. Her eyes dipped down, taking in his blue button-up shirt and dark jeans. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans.”

His mouth curved. So she’d been surreptitiously observing him in their hallway passings, too. “I work a lot. Suits are part of the deal.”

“You pull off both well,” she said, her voice still dancing a bit with nerves, the Latina accent peeking through.

“Thank you.” He took her hand and tucked it in his elbow, taking control, hoping it would help ease some of her anxiety. “Let’s get going. There’s a stiff drink and a dance floor with our names on it.”

“Now we’re talking,” Pike said. “The cab’s waiting outside.”

* * *

Foster watched Cela’s throat work as she sipped her margarita. The club was in full swing, but Pike had used his connections to get them a table on the balcony so that they could all have a drink and talk without the music drowning them out.

This kind of club wasn’t usually Foster’s speed. Too loud. Too crowded. If he was going to go out, he usually drove to The Ranch where true privacy could be had if needed. But when Pike had suggested dancing, Foster couldn’t resist the thought of having Cela’s body pressed against his, the scent of her swirling around him.

But unless Cela relaxed, they were going to be cemented to these chairs all night. Her salt-rimmed drink sloshed precariously in her unsteady hand as she sent the tables nearby a darting glance and sipped. If he said “boo,” she’d probably leap off her seat.

Way to go, genius
, he chided himself. It was his and Pike’s job to make sure Cela had fun tonight, and they were reaching epic-fail status quickly.

Pike was at least trying to put her at ease. “So how long do you have before you move back home?”

“I’m going to help out in the clinic at the vet school for a few more weeks. I’ve been interning there this year, and I wanted to make sure they had a replacement for me before I left. So before the end of June.”

“Wow, that soon, huh?” Pike asked.

She looked at her drink and seemed to sink into her thoughts. “Yeah.”

Damn, they needed to turn this night around quickly. Cela seemed to be getting more morose instead of relaxed. Enough sitting around. He didn’t have Pike’s talent for settling women with humor and the occasional off-color comment. If he said half the stuff Pike did, his face would be permanently marked from angry slaps. But he did have one potent tool in his arsenal—one that only worked on a special type of woman. And all his God-given instincts were telling him Cela was exactly that kind of girl,
his
kind of girl. Even if she didn’t know it yet. Time to do what he’d been wanting to do since he’d first met his shy neighbor.

He reached out and plucked the glass from her hands. “Stand up, Cela.”

She turned toward him and blinked as if to clear her vision of some afterimage. “What?”

He stood. “Up. Now.”

She glanced at Pike with a what’s-going-on look but rose to her feet anyhow.

“Thank you.” He stepped around the small cocktail table to stand in front of her, using his height advantage to the fullest. “Look at me.”

Her head tilted upward without hesitation—like he’d tugged a string attached to her chin.

Good girl
, his mind whispered. But he shoved the instinctual response to the back of his brain. “We brought you here to have a good time tonight.”

Her lips rolled inward, nervously smoothing her lip gloss, and she took a breath. “I know. I want that, too.”

“Good.” He glanced at Pike, who was watching the exchange with deceptively casual interest. Pike gave a barely perceptible nod, somehow always in tune with Foster’s thoughts, and climbed out of his chair. He moved behind Cela with easy confidence and slid his hands along her waist.

She jolted a bit at the touch, a flush creeping over the skin exposed by her V-cut neckline, but she held Foster’s eye contact.

“You’re shutting down on us.” Foster reached out and cupped her face, running a finger along her cheekbone. “I need you to let go of the nerves. You have no reason to be anxious around us.”

She scoffed, then bit her lip when she realized the sound had escaped.

Pike smiled over her shoulder and moved in closer, pulling her gently against his chest, swaying a bit to the music. Foster knew this would be the make or break moment. She’d either jump in with both feet or shrink back into her shell like a hermit crab. But he was done trying to resist his urges with her.

So far, she was responding just as he’d hoped, the submissive undercurrent almost a taste on his tongue. The desire to take control, to take her over, surged inside him like lifeblood. His dominance could calm her. “You’re safe with us. Neither of us would ever make you do something you don’t want to do. Understand?”

Her gaze shifted, and he could see her body going rigid. Her fight-or-flight was kicking in—which only served to activate his chase-and-conquer gene. But right as he thought she may wiggle out of Pike’s arms and run, she blurted out, “But I don’t know how to do this!”

The honest response made him want to smile, to kiss her, to soothe that insecurity. “Do what?” he asked calmly, letting his hand drift to her throat, feeling her pulse quicken against his palm. “Tell me what you fear.”

She closed her eyes as if gathering her strength around her—finding that steel core he sensed resided under all that cottony soft innocence. “I’m . . . not used to this. Being out with guys. I don’t know how to act, what to do.”

“Ah, sweetheart,” Pike said, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You’re doing just fine.”

Foster breathed slowly, willing his own heartbeat to slow, his protective instinct flooding him. Oh, how he’d like to show her exactly what he wanted her to do when she was with him, how to act, how to submit. But she was so young, so untouched. He’d fear crushing her under the weight of all he desired.

Despite his body screaming for a different outcome and knowing that he and Pike could seduce her into their bed tonight, he forced the right words to come out of his mouth. “Listen to me, Cela. Tonight, we’re just going to dance. All you need to do is relax and have a good time. We don’t have any expectations beyond that.”

* * *

What if I want you to? The question sat full on my lips, my body already in overdrive from Pike’s warm chest pressed against my back and Foster’s commanding gaze holding me captive. But I couldn’t deny the unwinding ball of tension in my stomach at Foster’s statement. They weren’t expecting anything from me. All I needed to do was get the stick out of my backside and have fun. Give myself over to the night.

Give myself over to them.

They would take care of me. I didn’t know them well, but on some primal level, I knew that much. They wouldn’t hurt me or take advantage of me.

“I don’t know where to start,” I confessed. “I’ve never been good at letting loose.”

Foster’s dark smile was devastating in the changing lights of the club. “Good, let’s start our Never Have I Ever with that one. Letting loose. Your instruction is to simply act, don’t think. If you want to do something, do it. No one knows you here. And even if you fell on your ass in the middle of the dance floor, who gives a shit?”

I smiled. “That’s a distinct possibility.”

Pike nuzzled the back of my ear, inspiring a line of goose bumps down my back. “Don’t worry. If you fall, we’ll be there to pick you up, doc.”

“We won’t let you fall in the first place,” Foster said. “Not with four hands on you.”

Four hands. My skin tingled at the image—or maybe the alcohol was finally doing its job. My quaking nerves dipped to a manageable level, my confidence rallying. These two guys weren’t there to embarrass me or laugh at my lack of experience. I’d had that happen once before and would rather become a nun than face that humiliation again. But both of these guys obviously knew I wasn’t Ms. Experienced. If they’d wanted some smooth-talking seductress, they could’ve come here alone and picked up any woman in the place. They were here to have a good time, and they wanted to have it with me. Wasting that opportunity would be like throwing away dessert—a travesty.

I laced one of my hands with Pike’s and reached out for Foster’s, channeling the version of myself that I played in my private fantasies. “I’m ready.
Never have I ever
 . . . danced with the two best-looking guys in the place.”

“That’s my girl,” Foster said, grabbing my offered hand and tugging me toward him, sandwiching me between the two of them. “Let’s go show these bastards how it’s done.”

We made our way down to the dance floor and the pulsing mass of humanity. Foster pressed a palm to the small of my back, and Pike kept his grip on my hand as they guided me into the throng. Having the two men flank me gave me the sense of being protected by some invisible bubble. Hands and limbs snaked around us, bodies brushed me, but somehow instead of feeling claustrophobic like I’d expected, it awakened my senses, made me feel alive. We slowed as we neared the center of the dance floor, and Foster turned me into Pike’s arms.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Pike’s smile glowed in the black lights as he dragged me against him and looped an arm around my neck.

I grinned back, relaxing into him. Despite the full-sleeve tattoos and hardened edge of Pike’s bad-boy rocker look, his presence was boyishly charming. I could imagine days with him being full of open laughter and sexy teasing.

I started to move and tried to focus on not stepping on his feet. But before I could get in time with Pike’s movements, Foster’s hands were spanning my waist from behind, sending sensual awareness sparking through me like static electricity. His lips tickled my ear. “Just take a breath and let us lead, Cela. I can feel you thinking.”

Thinking.
Always
thinking. He was right. I nodded and softened my spine, letting the sounds and sensations flow over me, trying to give over the control. I held Pike’s gaze and moved with the two of them—the bass pounding through my ribs like some tribal anthem and the smooth elixir of tequila flowing through my veins. Yes. This. This was what I needed tonight . . . freedom.

The song ended and changed into one with a weighty, sensual beat and no lyrics.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The guys didn’t say a word as our movements slowed, but it was as if the air shifted around us, grew heavier, warmer. Foster’s pelvis brushed against my backside, and Pike pressed his forehead to mine as we swayed in time to the music. Both men’s colognes filled my nose—Pike’s clean, like salty ocean air and summer nights, Foster’s laced with dark spice. And underneath all that—sweat and desire. Mine. Theirs.
Ours
.