“Maybe.”
“Maybe I can read your mind. Or maybe everything you think shows up on your face.”
She scoffed. “It does not.”
He just looked at her.
“Does it?”
“Without fail.”
“So what was I thinking, then?” she asked.
He bent forward and undid the button on her jeans, followed by the zipper. “You were thinking about what it would be like to f**k two men at the same time.”
“Such smutty thoughts have never entered my brain.” Actually, she had been wondering. Wildly curious and then some. Her imagination had run overtime, he was right. Ali was a lucky, lucky girl having those two big hot men at her disposal. Not that Roslyn wasn’t content with her one surly male, but still … two. Some people were enjoying their apocalypse a little too much.
So, yes, there had been the odd covetous thought involved. She even had the common decency to experience a twinge of guilt over it.
Nick pulled her jeans and knickers down her legs and tossed them into a corner of the small room. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine, just a little stiff. I used the sling for most of the day. I didn’t lift anything heavy.”
“Good.” He started in on the buttons on her shirt.
The brush of his hands over her bare skin gave her shivers as he pushed back the material. No bra, courtesy of the still-vivid bruise across her chest. Her perky ni**les rose to the occasion, of course. Her body was a fool for him. Her heart and mind weren’t far behind.
“I just don’t want you feeling like you’re missing out on something,” he said.
“Nick, I’m not.” She reached out for him and he came to her, pressing his mouth to hers in a distinctly hot kiss. Had she thought the air cool? Forget that. This man had her overheated in moments. Their tongues tangled and his hands slipped into her hair. But still he stayed on his knees, hovering high above her.
“But just in case …” he said, pulling back from her.
“What?”
“I picked up a few things for you in town today.” He reached for the backpack he’d come in with and pulled something out. When she tried to sit up to see what he pushed her back down with a hand to her good shoulder. “Don’t strain your shoulder. Lie back. Relax.”
“What is it?”
“You can either lie back and relax like a good girl, or I can go play cards with Duncan and Joe,” he said. “Your choice.”
Shit. She’d seen that look on his face often enough to know he meant it. Hard-on tenting the front of his jeans or no, the man would walk out on her. He loved letting his inner control freak out to play when it came to sex. Sadly, she enjoyed it just as much.
“I’m lying still,” she said.
“Good. Though I need you on your stomach, so let me help you roll over.” Big hands helped her to wriggle into position. He slipped a pillow beneath her shoulders, another beneath her hips. “There we go. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.” Comfortable, but dubious. “What are you up to, Nicky?”
“You’ll see.” His fingers trailed over the curves of her ass then slipped down between her legs, caressing her inner thighs. And pushing steadily outward. “Spread, sweetheart.”
She did so. Of course she did. The man made her a shallow puddle of sex-starved ooze without even trying.
Shuffling noises behind her. Warm breath on the small of her back. Hot, damp kisses on a butt cheek. And the sound of …
“What have you got? What is that?” she demanded, trying to turn her head far enough to see.
Nick’s face came into view instead. “I think they’re playing poker tonight. Should I go find out for sure?”
“No.”
“I think you need a safe word,” he said.
“Why? What are you going to do that’s so bad?”
He stared back at her, face much too calm. “When your shoulder’s healed, I’m going to tie you up and gag you so we can’t have these discussions.”
“I don’t think that’s the point of BDSM, if that’s what you’re attempting.”
“You’ve read about it?” he asked.
“A book or two, here and there. Maybe. I’ve never done anything, but …”
Another grunt. What did a grunt even mean, really? Lucky she trusted this Neanderthal.
“It interests you.” He kissed the back of her neck, took a roll of skin beneath his teeth and toyed with it. It felt weird but nice, ticklish almost. His voice sounded husky against her ear. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You talk as much as you want and I’m going to go about my business, down here.” Big, threatening hands smoothed over her bu**ocks. “Unless you say, ‘I hate you’.”
“What? No. I promised to never say that to you again.”
“I know. Best safe word ever.”
“Nick, that’s cheating. And it’s not funny.”
“Okay,” he chuckled. “Calm down. How about … ‘wattle’?”
“Wattle?”
“Yeah. It was the name of our cabin. And it’s not a word you’re going to say by accident.”
“Oh,” she said, relaxing a bit. “That’s nice. ‘Wattle’ it is. But I still think you should leave my butt alone. You have enough holes at your disposal.”