Things were definitely not right.
Fallon woke in the middle of the night, cozied up against Devon’s hunky body. That was all well and good. Not at all what she sensed was off.
Moonlight streamed in through the crack in the middle of the drapes to create a soft glow behind her closed lids. A gentle rocking told her they were still on the boat before she even opened an eye. And while she was thrilled to wake with Devon’s strong arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest, she knew there should be two male bodies in this bed.
Plus, Devon’s breathing was agitated, though quiet. She knew from years of napping with him and Morgan that both men snored soundly and evenly. So Devon wasn’t asleep. And Morgan was nonexistent at the moment.
She sat up. “Hey,” she said, interrupting the silence. “Where’s Morgan?”
Devon’s lids remained closed. “Didn’t stay over.”
Her heart wrenched. “He left as soon as I fell asleep?”
“He has an early morning,” Devon told her in his low, rumbling voice. “Don’t take it—”
“Devon Bryan McMillan. Don’t tell me not to take it personally.”
“Christ.” He grumbled as his eyes flew open. Though he stared at the ceiling, not at her. “Did you just call me what I think you just called me?”
She scowled. “Dev.”
“Better.” His head rolled on the pillow and he gazed at her. “I forewarned you that he and I are in a rough patch. Nothing to do with you. Remember?”
“But he just . . . bailed?”
“No.” Devon propped himself up on an elbow and tucked strands of hair behind her ear. “Not in the way you’re thinking. He left because of me. I’ve pissed him off. I told you that. And there’s . . . something else.”
Her brow knitted. “What?” Her hand covered his as it cupped the side of her face and she guided it down her neck and chest to the valley of her bare breasts. “What’s going on, Dev?”
His gaze slipped to where their hands rested. “I’m supposed to concentrate on anything but being inside you now?”
“Devon Bryan—”
“All right, all right.” He heaved a sigh. “I asked Morgan to come back to town to discuss selling the yacht club.”
She gasped. “The Bayfront club?”
“Yes.”
She released his hand. Splayed her palms over his chest and pushed him back down onto the mattress. Stared deep into his eyes. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No.”
Her own eyes widened. Her mouth gaped.
Devon said, “Hear me out.” Because he knew she’d go off on a rant if she didn’t know the full details. Not that he was looking forward to divulging all the details—the dirty, naked truth, as it were. But . . . she deserved to know what the hell was going on between him and Morgan. So he told her, “Morgan and I haven’t shared a woman in a year. The last time was in San Francisco. A blonde named Missy . . . Apparently.”
“Devon,” Fallon scolded.
“Yes, I know. I should write these things down if I can’t recall them. But I likely just blocked her name from my mind because . . .” He grunted. “Because Morgan and I were trashed and when we were with her, things got out of hand. Well, almost.”
Now Fallon’s brow quirked with curiosity. “Out of hand, how?”
“We were all just messing around,” he explained. “Nothing at all like what happened tonight with you. But the potential existed. Except . . . She wanted something entirely different.”
“Different?” Fallon seemed to search her mind for the exact connotation of that word in this scenario, but came up empty. So she asked, “Different how? I mean, isn’t the point of a threesome with two guys and a girl to . . . You know . . . Pleasure the girl?”
“Not always. For us, yes. For her . . . Not precisely.”
Fallon thought this one through. Then gasped again. “She wanted you—”
“To fuck Morgan while he fucked her.”
“Oh!”
That was absolutely not what Fallon had expected to hear.
Good ménages gone bad.
Wow.
“I totally can’t envision that,” she admitted. “Not with you and Morgan. I mean, you two are way too macho and . . . That’s not your thing, right?”
“No, that is not our thing. For other guys who are into ménages, maybe. You can’t overlook the fact that body parts touch, directly sometimes. Indirectly at other times. I could feel him inside you at the same time I was inside you. But with us . . . It’s the overall experience. Not that guy connection. It’s about the woman for us. Always.”
“Then what was the problem?”
“Well . . .” He gently clasped her upper arms and coaxed her down so she snuggled with him once more, her head on his shoulder. “We were drunk that night, as I mentioned. And she was really into it and we were getting into it as well and for maybe all of two seconds, we considered her request.”
“But you didn’t follow through?”
“No. After the two seconds, the mood was killed. For us, anyway. A couple of days later, Morgan and I parted ways.”
“And not just with the blonde,” she mused. “Jesus, Devon.”
He didn’t say anything further. Just lightly stroked her arm with his fingertips.
She dared to say, “I’ll confess that’s not for me. I wouldn’t dream of sharing you two in that way. It’s selfish, yes, but I want you both. Though I can see where some women might find it hot. You two are pretty incredible together. But again, I wouldn’t want to share you. And, Devon . . . You guys didn’t do anything with Missy. You decided against it. So what, exactly, is the big deal?”
“That we contemplated it for two seconds, Fallon.”
“Come on, Dev. Neither of you are homophobic. You’ve had plenty of gay and bisexual friends your entire lives. And you defend their sexual preferences.”
“That’s not what it was about, really. It’s not a homophobic thing, but a certain line drawn in the sand when it comes to our ménages. We established a purpose from the onset. From the very first time we sort of accidentally ended up with the same woman in the same bed. Morgan and I had a sidebar discussion. The point is her pleasure. Ours as a direct result, sure. But it’s not he and I pleasuring each other and finding a way to fit her in. It’s what we can do together, as a team, to make her feel good. To make her come.”
Fallon’s toes curled and her clit tingled. “And you are so good at that.”
“Problem is, sweetheart,” he said in an earnest voice, “Morgan and I both innately know we’d do anything you ask of us.”
Her head popped up. She stared at him and said, “Devon, I would never ask you or Morgan to do anything that wasn’t comfortable, appealing, arousing, whatever. I enjoyed you each on our own—I won’t lie. Both of you are magnificent. But together . . . Oh, my God. It was a whole other world for me and so unbelievably amazing. Trust me, if all you both wanted was to fuck me, you would not hear a complaint or any contradictory recommendation.” A smile teased her lips.
But then something else occurred to Fallon. “Oh.” She sighed dejectedly. And she slipped from the bed.
“Hey.” Devon sat up instantly. “What the hell? Where are you going?”
“Devon.” Emotion swelled in her throat as everything he’d said finally gelled in her still-hazy, post-euphoric brain. “You and Morgan . . . you’re leaving Bayfront. Selling the club. Moving far, far away from me—and what happened between the three of us tonight.”
Devon tossed off the covers and climbed out of bed. He rounded the end of it and took her into his arms. “The offer came out of the blue, Fallon. I received it before I came back to town. Before I saw you. Before I fucked you. Before Morgan and I made love to you.”
His eyes squeezed shut briefly, then snapped open.
He said, “It complicates things, I’ll be honest about that. But the deal has already been set in motion. It’s an astounding offer. And Morgan and I are still struggling . . . as friends.”
“And so, what?” she asked, staring up at him imploringly, her heart slowly breaking. “Tonight was just a . . . A one-night stand?”