A gasp sticks in my throat. His possessiveness is kind of hot, if totally unnecessary. I’m theirs and he knows it. It’s been two months since our arrangement began, and I’m completely head over heels for all three of them. Despite knowing how much it’s going to hurt when this comes to an end, I let myself fall in love with them a little more each day. How could I not when they’re so caring and smart and funny? Not to mention insanely hot and attentive and they have magical mouths and hands and …
I tip my head back, allowing Zeke better access to my neck. His heavy grunt reminds me that I haven’t responded to his threat to lock me in my room. “You think I could forget who I belong to, even for a second?”
“Her ass isn’t exactly on display, Zeke,” West says. Walking up behind me, he grabs my hips and pushes himself up against my back. “But I agree, it is fucking perfect.”
Wedged in the middle of their two hard bodies, I squirm as wetness and warmth pool between my thighs. “I need to catch the uptown subway.”
West looks at me like I’m an idiot. “I don’t fucking think so. Our driver will take you.”
“But I like the subway.”
“No fucking way, buttercup.”
Looking for support, I glance across the room at Xander. “You take the car or you don’t go,” he says with a shrug.
Admitting defeat, I sigh. The problem isn’t the car, it’s actually a far more comfortable way to travel, but what if I get too used to it? It isn’t my car. This isn’t my real life—not forever, anyway. “You’re all way too overprotective. The subway is perfectly safe.”
Zeke bands his arms around my waist and pulls my body against his. “Are you still arguing about this?”
“No, I’ll take the car.”
“And this too.” West holds his black Amex card in front of my face.
I snort out a laugh. “I know I’m a poor struggling wannabe writer, but I can afford to buy myself a few beers, I promise.”
West presses a soft kiss beneath my ear. “Take the fucking card, princess.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “You already give me free room and board.”
“Take the damn card and buy you and your friend some drinks and some food to soak it all up with. You understand me?”
“But—”
He slides the card into the ass pocket of my jeans. “The pin is two-four-zero-seven.”
Not wanting to argue about it anymore—it isn’t like he can force me to use it—I acquiesce. But the fact that he trusts me with his card and the pin number means the world to me.
Twirling my metal straw, I scan the bar waiting for Jen to arrive. We haven’t been out together in over two months, not since that fateful evening at Marché de Viande. A dreamy sigh escapes me at the thought of the three smoking hot men I’ll be going home to later. And they aren’t just hot; they’re funny and kind and generous. Nothing at all like the men I thought they were before I met them.
I smile at the sight of Jen’s flaming red hair bobbing through the crowd but groan inwardly when I notice she isn’t alone. She offers me her best “oh shit I’m so sorry I ruined our first night out in months” smile and pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers in my ear. “I ran into her outside my building and she asked me where I was going. I couldn’t shake her off.”
I give her a reassuring pat on the back before ending the hug. “Bree.” I force a smile for our unexpected guest. “How are you?”
She wrinkles her perfect tiny nose at me, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Bree Reid was the president of our sorority back in college. She’s four years older than Jen and me, and while she adores Jen, she can’t stand me. Probably because Jen comes from a rich family and her dad is a named partner at a prestigious law firm, and mine … well, as far as Bree’s concerned, I have no family. Not that I’m saying she’s an elitist snob or anything. But she’s an elitist snob.
“I’m great. Daddy just bought me an apartment near the meat packing district. It’s so chic. You should come see it.” She makes a point of turning away from me and directing that last part at Jen. “And you, Lily? Still a bike messenger?” Her tone drips with disdain.
I straighten my shoulders, about to tell her that I’m goddamn proud of my job when Jen answers for me. “Lily’s article is being printed in Genevieve magazine next month.”
Bree snorts like that means nothing to her.
“It’s a super exclusive deal. It’s totally her big break,” Jen goes on, and I flash her a grateful smile. She’s my biggest cheerleader and always has been, ever since we met on our first day at Columbia.
Bree glances around the bar, pure disinterest seeping from her pores. “Don’t tell me you’re still dating that waste of oxygen bartender? Jacob?” Her surgically altered button nose wrinkles over my ex-boyfriend’s name, and a swell of anger rolls in my chest.
Jacob is not a waste of oxygen. He’s a nice guy—and that’s exactly why we didn’t work out. Not a single throat necklace during our entire nine-month relationship. When it comes to guys, it seems I’m genetically programmed to seek out the morally gray variety, which is unsurprising really. If I saw a shrink, I’m sure they’d tell me I have daddy issues. And I would laugh and tell them they had no freaking idea.
Jen answers while I’m still trying to come up with a reply. “No, she’s dating West Archer.” I shoot her a warning glare, but she sticks her tongue out at me.
That little nugget of information certainly gets Bree’s attention though. I swear I’ve never her seen her lost for words. Her usually beautiful face pinches with a mixture of disbelief and envy. “You are not,” she eventually says. “West Archer doesn’t date.”
I open my mouth to reply, but once again Jen beats me to it. “He damn well does. Lily’s living with him, aren’t you, girl?” She nudges my arm.
My cheeks burn. “Um, kinda.”
“And his partners too? Xander and Ezekiel?” She says their names like she knows them personally. Given that her father is a rich banker, she probably does.
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“Liar,” she spits.
Bitch! I pull West’s black Amex from the back pocket of my jeans and hold it up. I really didn’t plan on spending a cent of his money, but I can’t possibly pass up the opportunity to prove to Bree that I’m not lying. “He’s such a sweetie. He gave me his card and told me to have a great time. Drinks are on me, ladies. What’ll it be?”
Bree narrows her eyes. “A bottle of Dom.”
I swallow hard. Shit. That will cost almost a thousand dollars in a bar like this. I don’t want to spend that much of his money. “How about a cocktail?” I suggest instead.
Bree folds her arms across her chest. “If you’re really dating West Archer, prove it. He can afford a bottle of Dom. Unless you’re on an allowance?” she says with a sneer.
Why is she such a complete twatwaffle to me?
“No, he won’t mind,” I say as breezily as I can. “A bottle of Dom and three glasses coming right up.”