Forbidden Heat by Carew, Opal (most popular ebook readers .TXT) 📕

them had started the morning with languorous lovemaking, then had a decadent brunch, followed by a dip in Jake’s pool. Now the weekend was over.

Time to return to her regular life. Time to leave these two wonderful men behind.

She sighed and climbed into the driver’s seat. It was hot inside the car. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine thrummed to life. She opened the windows and stared up at Trey and Jake standing beside the car in the driveway.

“Don’t look so glum.” Jake leaned on the door and smiled. “You’re coming back next weekend, right?”

She nodded.

“My place next time,” said Trey. “And I’ll make dinner on Friday.”

“It’s a date.” She smiled, then glanced in her rearview mirror. “I guess I’d better get going.” What she really wanted to do was leap from the car and throw herself into Trey’s arms . . . or Jake’s . . . then drag them back into the house for another rousing round of lovemaking. . . . But she had to go home sometime.

The guys stepped back from the car and she pulled out of the driveway, then waved at them as she drove away.

Damn, but she hated to leave.

With them she felt happy and alive. At home she felt . . . lonely.

As she drove, she reminded herself how well the weekend had gone. Not only had she been well loved, but she felt that the men were opening up to each other, too. Jake clearly responded to Trey’s touch . . . and Trey seemed to be open to more intimate interactions with Jake.

An hour and a half of driving later, she pulled up to her own house. As the week wore on, she threw herself into her work, but still felt the tug of her longing to be back in Carleton Falls. To be with Trey and Jake.

Finally, Friday came. She sped through her work, completing the Web site for her newest client, installing it, and ensuring it was fully functional. Then she packed up her things and tossed her suitcase in the backseat.

She could hardly wait to arrive at Trey’s.

Nine

Danielle pulled into Trey’s driveway, beside the torch red Mustang. Jake’s car. He was already here. The two of them were waiting for her.

She grabbed her bag from the backseat and raced for the door, then rang the doorbell. She waited impatiently for the door to open, wanting to throw herself into Trey’s arms—or Jake’s—as soon as the door opened.

She heard the click of the lock, and then the heavy oak door opened. Trey stood in front of her looking incredibly sexy wearing . . . well, very little. He wore a white shirt collar with a small bow tie, and shirt cuffs . . . but no shirt. Just a broad expanse of well-toned muscular chest and bulging arms. Slim-fitting black pants covered his lower body. Clearly, he was dressed to be her manservant . . . and she licked her lips as thoughts of exactly how she might make use of his services swirled through her mind.

“Mistress Rayne. Welcome.” Trey bowed, then stepped back to allow her to come inside.

Jake stepped into the room, wearing the same outfit, carrying a tall stemmed glass of white wine. He handed it to her while Trey took her bag down the hall, probably to the bedroom.

“Would you like to come into the kitchen while we prepare the meal?” Jake asked.

“Certainly,” she responded, falling into the role.

Jake led her through the kitchen door into Trey’s wonderfully large, bright kitchen with its light-stained wooden cabinets, white tiled countertops, and white appliances. Such a difference from Jake’s kitchen with its elegant dark-stained cherry cabinets, black marble countertops, and stainless-steel appliances.

A platter sat on the counter with large pink shrimp and bright yellow lemon wedges on crushed ice, a bowl of red sauce in the center. Beside that stood a gray marble tray with a variety of cheeses and fancy crackers and another platter with fresh-cut vegetables and dip.

“Would you like to sit at the table or the counter?” Trey asked.

Like in Jake’s kitchen, Trey had a sitting area at the counter with tall stools, but that’s where the similarity ended. Jake’s house was all streamlined elegance whereas Trey’s house had a homier, more casual feel. Trey’s living room had cozy cloth couches and carpet whereas Jake’s had tailored leather and dark oak hardwood.

She glanced toward the round table in the breakfast nook surrounded by windows and facing the large backyard, kept private by a tall hedge surrounding the property.

“I think I’ll stay by the counter. Close to the food.”

Jake pulled out one of the high stools under the counter bar and she sat down. He turned and stepped toward the white oven. She watched his lovely tight butt as he leaned over to check whatever was cooking inside the oven. She sipped her wine, enjoying the delicate, slightly fruity flavor. Trey returned and smiled her way.

“Is there anything I can get you, mistress?”

Mistress. Mmm. That had a delightful ring to it. In fact, it sent thrills through her as she imagined both men following some very interesting commands.

She wanted to order him to kiss her, then strip off her clothes, or his . . . or maybe Jake’s . . . but she didn’t want to speed things along too much. Especially since they’d gone to a lot of trouble to prepare a lovely meal.

“I’d like a shrimp.”

The platter was right in front of her, but she smiled at him rather than reaching for one.

“Of course, mistress.” Trey lifted one of the lemon wedges lying on the ice and squeezed it onto a plump shrimp, which he then dipped in the red sauce. He brought the juicy morsel to her lips.

She opened and he slipped the end of the shrimp into her mouth. She bit off a piece, and lemon juice dribbled down her chin as she chewed. Trey stroked