“So I’m not just another wet hole?

He grimaced. “No.”

“Okay, um… I just finished nursing school, so I’m free. I’ll need to study for my exams, but I can do that anywhere. Let me grab a bag tonight. I can leave a note for my dad that I’m visiting a…friend. He’s out of town right now, anyway. I can be back tomorrow and—”

“Wait. We have one rule.”

A rule? There were rules about a three-way? “Like…?”

“I don’t do virgins, so there won’t be any fucking your pussy.” Kimber bristled. She didn’t like his blunt language, but was used to that. What bothered her more was his tone, as if virginity made her a lower life-form.

“I think I made it clear earlier that I wanted to save my virginity for Jesse. So that won’t be a problem.”

“I just want you to remember that when things get hot.” He grabbed her face in his hands and leaned his taut body closer. The intent glow of his eyes said that he was desperately resisting the urge to kiss her. “And Kimber, they will get hot.” A sizzling shiver stole through her. “I won’t forget or change my mind.”

“I won’t give in when you beg.”

Kimber tore away from his grasp. “When I beg?”

My, someone thinks a lot of his prowess.

Deke’s grim smile went straight to her nerves. “One of the joys of a ménage. We can make you willing to do anything. But since we’re agreed now that there won’t be any straight sex, then there won’t be any risks.” What sort of sex would there be, then? Oral. Anal. She hadn’t done either. In two weeks, she’d become a pro at both. The thought made her suck in a sharp breath at the dangerous jolt of

“Risks of what? Pregnancy?”

Deke’s mouth tightened. “That and entanglement. Taking virginity is accepting a responsibility in my mind. A man shouldn’t fuck a virgin he doesn’t intend to claim and keep. And I’m not in the market to claim any woman, not in the forever sense.” Amazing. The old-fashioned and commitment-avoidant all in one breath.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” she remarked, hearing her own sarcasm.

Deke merely crossed his arms over his chest and stared, his expression closed.

Unreadable. Taut jaw, unapproachable body language. His mouth flattened into a grim line. And those deep blue eyes of his, they looked flat, matter-of-fact…at first glance.

Kimber looked again.

Bleak. Everything about him screamed it. A stiffness in his posture, coupled with some yearning she glimpsed the longer she looked. Deke blinked, shifted his weight, took a step back. Whatever she’d seen was gone.

Kimber frowned. Lord, she was losing it. It wasn’t possible to see that much from a single glance. And Deke was the last man she should attribute any real emotion to. That look…she’d probably just mistaken his annoyance that he had to wait until tomorrow for her to ease his hard-on or that he wouldn’t be getting any vaginal sex from her. The subject of virgins and claiming didn’t actually upset him. She doubted much ruffled him, in fact. He’d probably thought next to nothing about the

“risks” of vaginal sex, except to decide that declaring “no virgins” gave him a better shot at no commitment.

“Should I tell Luc you’ll be back to the house in time for dinner?” His dead expression was back, and this time, Kimber didn’t look any closer. She doubted Deke was sensitive enough to have any demons, but if he did, she didn’t want to know them.

“And pass up his cooking? I’ll be there.”

Deke didn’t smile. In fact, he looked as cheerful as a man facing death row. “We’ll be ready.”

Deke nursed a beer just inside the kitchen as he watched Luc open the front door.

Kimber stood on the other side, looking so damn innocent in a white lace shirt and flirty flowered skirt, he gnashed his teeth. Having her here had “bad news” written all over it. Damn.

The hint of mischief in her eyes didn’t make him hard— just the thought of her had managed that twenty minutes ago. But the excitement flushing her cheeks slammed a fresh rush of blood to his cock as Luc invited her into the house. She accepted with a smile and stepped her strappy-sandaled feet into the hall.

His good ol’ cuz had been like a panting puppy with the promise of a new toy all afternoon. He’d sweet-talked Wiletta, their old housekeeper, into a midweek sprucing up. Luc had also spent the last four hours preparing some gourmet chicken dish Deke couldn’t pronounce. And dessert—some complicated chocolate torte thing with strawberries. Deke shook his head. Luc had bought four cartons of the berries and handpicked a mere few for the confection.

Deke doubted they’d make it to dessert.

He didn’t have to ask why all the effort on Luc’s part. His cousin wanted to believe they’d finally found the woman who could complete them, discounting the fact that no sane woman would want to play house permanently with a former Army Ranger and a temperamental chef. Apparently, Luc had also forgotten the thousands of times Deke had insisted he didn’t want a permanent relationship.

Still, his cousin persisted in hoping Kimber was theirs.

Who knew why? Deke had pointed out repeatedly they wouldn’t be sinking their cocks into Kimber’s sweet pussy. That she was, in fact, coming here merely to experience a ménage so she could be prepared to please another man. None of that mattered. Luc was still convinced Kimber could be The One. Sweetly curious, soft on the outside with a tough inner core, Kimber was everything Luc insisted was perfect for a life with two difficult men.

Deke snorted. Yeah, this sure was headed for a fairy-tale ending. Not. But Luc would have to figure that out for himself. Deke was tired of pointing out the obvious. Still, he admitted privately there was something about Kimber that utterly flipped his switch.

Grimacing at the hard-on straining the fucking slacks Luc had insisted he wear, he lifted his beer for a long swallow. Hell, he was as hard as he could ever remember being and he’d done nothing more than watch Kimber walk through his door with a hesitant smile.

“Hi.”

Her voice was breathy, soft, a little shaky. Good. She had every reason to be nervous. He was. His insides were like a lit powder keg on a short fuse. What would happen to his restraint and self-control after he and Luc laid her out on the bed?

Kaboom.

He was all jacked up on adrenaline, just as he was after a mission. He needed to fuck, and he could only deny it for so long. Worse, the need seemed fixated on her.

It wasn’t a matter of if she begged to be fucked, but when. And when she begged for a hard cock in her pussy…could he keep to his vow to leave her a virgin?

Despite his tough talk, he wasn’t sure.

Could he fuck her, claim her, and risk the consequences?

Hell no! No more risks where virgins were concerned. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

Never again. She’d learn what they could teach in two weeks and be gone. He’d resist…somehow.

“Come in,” Luc said, taking the duffle bag that weighed down her slender arm and setting it in the hall. “We’re glad you’re here. I’m thrilled you’ve agreed to stay with us.”

And if Luc had his way, Kimber would never leave.

“Thanks for changing your mind.”

She looked self-conscious, tucking her silky reddish hair behind one ear, her hazel eyes darting around the living room and into the kitchen.

Her gaze found his, and their stares connected. At the visual jolt of electricity, she sucked in a breath. He felt her gaze like a sucker punch to the gut and a hard tug on his cock.

Oh, hell. He was in major shit here.

Luc tucked Kimber’s hand in his and led her to the kitchen.

“My mind never needed changing. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve always been welcome.”

Thanks for the public hanging, cuz.

“Deke.” His name trembled from her lips. The sound went straight to his dick. Not trusting himself to keep quiet every dirty thought screaming inside his head, he just nodded.

“Wine?” Luc asked her, leading her deeper into the house, into the middle of the kitchen.

“Sure. Thank you. Do you have any white?”

“I have a great chardonnay.”

“Perfect.”

Luc slanted a chastising glance his way. What the fuck did his cousin want him to do? Deke didn’t like wine. Luc was the slick one with all the verbal skills, so Deke was letting him do the talking. It was smart, since Deke only spoke caveman.

Besides, he had nothing to say. If he touched Kimber at all right now, Luc would only hear two sounds: him ripping her clothes away from her body and her scream as he covered her clit with his mouth until she came.

“Everything smells delicious,” she murmured and slanted a shy glance in Deke’s direction.

Smiling with all the charm of a damn talk show host, Luc handed her a glass of wine. “I hope you’ll enjoy it. Make yourself comfortable. Or, if you prefer, hit Deke up for a tour of the house.”

Kimber took a sip of the chardonnay, then cut another anxious glance in his direction. Her tongue dragged along her plump lower lip—nearly sending him to his knees. “I’d love a tour.”

What he’d really love was to see that tongue sliding across the head of his cock.

He swallowed at the image gnawing across his mind and right through most of his self-control.

“Sure,” he said, trying not to grimace at his scratchy voice.

He made his way across the kitchen and, because he couldn’t stand not touching her for another minute, he molded his palm to the small of her back. Warm, firmly curved. Responsive. Deke glanced her way and couldn’t miss the fact her nipples hardened the instant he touched her. And her smell… he inhaled peaches, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Homey, spicy, comforting, and arousing. Another sniff. Holy shit, if he got any harder, his zipper was going to leave permanent indentions on his dick.

With a gentle push, he took his hands off her and urged her out of the kitchen, back into the living room, then down the hall, grabbing her bright blue duffle bag.

Hoisting it on his shoulder, he looked back at her. “There are two bedrooms and an office at the end of the hall. Luc’s is the larger, since he lives here full-time. I’m only here when I’m between assignments or, like now, recovering from an injury.”

“What happened?”

Deke couldn’t mistake the concern in her voice or the way it made him want to pin her to a wall and kiss her. Not just fuck her. He still wanted to—bad. But her little show of care lured him in a way he wasn’t familiar with, but was still every bit as effective as a top-of-the-line rod and reel.

If he wasn’t careful, he would fall for her hook, line, and sinker, to quote a cliché.

He’d been there, done that with Heather, and he’d love to burn his souvenir T-shirt, but his memories wouldn’t let him. Instead, he hung it in his mental closet, determined not to fuck up again.

“Some asshole with a knife wanted to demonstrate his Zorro impression using my ribs. Twelve stitches and a tetanus shot later, I’m good as new.”

“You and Dad are in a dangerous business.”

“Beats the hell out of sitting behind a desk.”

“Depends on your perspective, but I know you men of action always need some ass to kick.”

Deke couldn’t help the smile tugging across his mouth. “Damn straight.” A few steps later, he shoved a door open to reveal a smallish bedroom with white walls. It held a double bed, a chair, a reading lamp, and a desk with a laptop. It would never win interior design awards, but it worked for him.

“This is your room.” It wasn’t a guess; she knew it.

“Yep.”

“It looks like you.”

“Dull?” he baited.

“Hardly.” She laughed. “I could call you a lot of things, but never dull.” The slightly breathy pitch of her voice was still going straight to his cock. He’d never been much for peaches, but right now the smell of her was rushing all his blood south. Damn, Luc always made dinner with company a grand affair. How the hell would he make it through the whole meal without throwing Kimber up on the table and eating her instead?

“It’s functional, clean, uncomplicated. You’d appreciate those qualities.” Oh, shit. She’d guessed a lot about him when he wasn’t looking. That dangerous feeling of wanting to kiss her returned, along with an urge to hold her close just for the pleasure of feeling her against him. Bad. Stupid. Wrong. Not happening. He’d taste her sweet kiss before he fucked her ass, but affection—out of the question.

Kimber would take it the wrong way. Hell, he might, too.

“Exactly,” he murmured and shut the door. Across the hall, he eased open the door to Luc’s office.

With its deep burgundy walls and dark woods, etched glass and brass accents, it resembled an elegant gentleman’s establishment of old—but with a cutting-edge desktop, speaker phone, and a printer/scanner/fax machine. A tobacco-colored desk chair in leather presided over a masculine walnut desk and bookshelves, inlaid with lighter woods on the top and sides with something Luc had called a medallion.