“Hey, I’m a reasonable guy. Aidan’s the pigheaded one who needs a lot of convincing.”
The thought of Aidan evoked another rush of distress. He drew in a deep breath, only to inhale a lungful of Claire’s lavender scent. Damn, she smelled good. Felt good too, pressed up against him like this.
But it was wrong.
This was wrong.
“You okay?” she murmured. “You tensed up all of a sudden.”
Misery crawled up his spine. “Shit. Claire. I think this was a mistake.”
It was her turn to tense up. “What are you talking about?”
“Us sleeping together. It was a mistake.”
The sheets rustled as she sat up. Her ponytail was a mess, most of her hair falling out of it, and she yanked the elastic off as she stared at him with hurt in her eyes. “I thought you wanted it.”
“I did. I wanted it badly.” He paused. “But we can’t do it again.”
Her mouth tightened. “I see.”
He sat up too, a weary sigh slipping out. “What happened between us just now…it was amazing. No, more than amazing. Probably some of the best sex of my life. But I can’t let it happen again.”
“Why? Because of Chris?” She ran a frazzled hand through her tousled auburn hair in an attempt to smooth it out.
“No, because of Aidan.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Because he wants me too,” she finally said.
Dylan wasn’t surprised she’d picked up on that—Aidan didn’t exactly take a subtle approach when he was attracted to someone.
“Yeah, he does.”
“Are you worried he’ll be upset that you and I hooked up? You don’t want me to be stuck in the middle between you two?”
A laugh burst out of his chest. “The exact opposite, actually.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means I want you to be in the middle.”
Several seconds ticked by before understanding dawned in her brown eyes, which widened in a flash. “You mean…you want me…and you…and…”
“Aidan,” he supplied.
“You want me to sleep with both of you? At the same time?”
Her red cheeks revealed her embarrassment, but Dylan also didn’t miss the brief flash of interest in her eyes.
Shit, she was intrigued by it. She was honest-to-God intrigued.
Unfortunately, Claire’s next words stuck a pin in the balloon of hope floating around in his chest.
“That’s insane,” she sputtered. “I’m not…I can’t…that’s not an option, Dylan.” She shook her head in dismay. “Do you guys do that often? Have sex with the same woman?”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t say a word, Dylan took another breath and exhaled in a rush. “Aidan and I are bi, honey. And yeah, we’re into the one-on-one stuff, but we like having a woman in our bed. We need a woman in our bed.”
Her continued silence spurred his frustration. “I don’t know how to explain it in a way you’d understand, but Aidan and I aren’t enough for each other. It fucking sucks, okay? But we both know it, and we’ve accepted it. Eventually one or both of us gets an itch that only a chick can scratch.”
“An itch,” she echoed dully. “Do you realize how messed-up that sounds?”
“What can I say? It’s the truth.” He briefly closed his eyes, knowing he was screwing this up but unsure of how to express his muddled emotions. “Look, I care about Aidan. He’s…” Dylan gave a helpless shrug. “He’s important to me, and, well, he’s part of the package.”
“The package being you?”
“Yes. Well, no. What I’m trying to say is, he and I are a package deal, Claire.” He met her baffled gaze, deciding not to pull any punches. “You either sleep with both of us, or you sleep with neither of us.”
Chapter Nine
Claire sat there in stunned silence. A package deal? She either fucked them both, or she didn’t fuck them at all?
Was he for real?
“Are you for real?” she blurted out.
Dylan had the decency to look contrite. “That didn’t come out the way I wanted it to.”
“I don’t care how it came out,” she huffed. “The question is, did you mean it?”
He didn’t respond for a few seconds.
Then he nodded.
“So you won’t sleep with me again unless Aidan is there too?” Disbelief continued to spiral through her.
“Is the idea so unappealing?” he asked quietly.
She faltered. At a complete loss for words.
“Just picture it, Claire. You, me, Aidan. In bed together.” His voice lowered to a seductive, almost hypnotic pitch. “Picture our hands on your body…our mouths and our tongues and our cocks…touching you, kissing you, fucking you.”
Her pussy clenched so hard it hurt. The naughty images he conjured succeeded in making her even wetter than she’d been before, and the humiliating response had her scrambling off the bed in search of her clothes.
Jesus. What was the matter with her? Why didn’t the idea disgust her? Horrify her? Insult her? That he could even ask her this was so…disrespectful.
And yet she didn’t feel disrespected.