Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
That thought is as heady as it is risky. We still work for rival teams. I don’t want to cause problems or draw attention to myself by dating a rival. Nova has given me a great opportunity with the Sea Dogs. It’s a plum post, one I’ll benefit from as I launch my app.
But just like Hollis offered to help me in the bedroom, Rhys is only offering to help me with a contest. And really, who better to help than a man who truly wants to show me what a great boyfriend is? I smile at Rhys, and it feels like a private grin until worry settles into my gut. Will Hollis be jealous of Rhys’s role? I look across the table to the laid-back guy who got me closer to climax than anyone ever has. His expression is easygoing, a smile tipping his lips as he says, “I think you’ll find we’re both pretty happy to help you any way that you want.”
Both.
Just this morning, Hollis said we’re good at sharing. I didn’t think he meant sharing a woman. But only because I didn’t want to let myself believe that that was what he meant.
The evidence is adding up that I was wrong. And as my breath hitches, the clues are saying I like being wrong too.
What about the third guy? Is Gavin good at sharing? Is he part of the both? But Gavin is quiet. I try not to read anything into his silence.
I want to say yes to both of them but Donut is jumping at the door. Whining too. I scoot back in the chair. “I need to take her for a quick walk.”
“I’ll join you,” Hollis says without missing a beat.
“Perfect.”
Once we’re outside, I’m alone with Hollis for the first time since the other guys showed up this morning.
But unlike this morning, orgasms are exactly what I want to talk about with him.
24
THE TOY COLLECTOR
Briar
After I shimmy Donut into the harness my dad gave her for Christmas—it’s covered in illustrations of sprinkled donuts—I take her leash in my hand, and we step out into the night. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow over the quiet neighborhood as we leave the stone path and head onto the sidewalk. There’s a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and grapes, the promise of a rich merlot, the possibility of a crisp chardonnay.
Hollis walks beside me as Donut pulls eagerly at the leash, her tail wagging. I glance at the man by my side, catching the hopeful twinkle in his eyes.
The moonlight illuminates his features, highlighting the strong lines of his face, the fullness of his lush lips, the scruff coasting over his jaw. Even with Rhys’s attention at the table, Hollis’s note still repeats in my head—If you want to teach me what you like, I’d like to learn—and anticipation flutters in my chest all over again.
“So, about your note…” I begin, searching for the right next words.
Hollis chuckles softly, his warm breath mingling with the night air. “I was hoping you’d bring that up.”
“It took me by surprise. The gift and the note.”
“Why?”
Because no one has ever offered. Most of all because no one has ever noticed I fake it.
But the words stick in my throat. Saying them requires opening up in ways I just don’t like. Ways that are terribly uncomfortable. After my dad’s warnings came true with Steven—I opened up to that man’s man about my hopes and dreams and then he tried to steal my cat—I’m gun-shy. Vulnerability’s always been hard for me though, given the way I was raised, the guardrails my father erected with his words, the way I saw my parents’ romance splinter then leave shards in all of us.
My father who’s resigned himself to being alone, my brother who barely dates, and me who dates…badly.
This isn’t romance Hollis is offering though. It’s sex, it’s communication, and it’s experimentation. Isn’t communication part of what this whole contest is about too? Rhys is offering to play my boyfriend and Hollis is offering to be…a sex student. Takes a lot for a man to say teach me. I dig down and admit the hard truth. “No one has ever noticed before.”
“Have you always faked it?”
“Yes,” I say, and it feels even sadder to say it out loud.
“Briar,” he says, then wraps an arm around me. It’s a friendly gesture—affectionate, from the guy I play pool with. “We have to get you a happy ending.”
I laugh at his playful way of speaking, then swallow my laughter, digging down once more. I meet his blue eyes and whisper another confession: “I can’t stop thinking about it though. Your offer.”
His smile burns off too, his deep voice resonating through the quiet night as he rubs his hand across my shoulder sensually, igniting sparks across my skin. “Same here.”