Wicked Times Two Page 4

  He smiled, more delighted than he’d been in recent memory. “Hey.”

  Van Gogh looked up and over. Seeing Jasmina, he went back to work.

  “Hey.” She eased toward the table. “Gonna live?”

  Kyle laughed despite how shitty he felt, as if someone had driven nails into his pec and the side of his body. “I’ve had dental appointments worse than this.”

  “Macho man.”

  His smile widened at her teasing. “Not always. Some things throw me.”

  “You’ll have to tell me what.” She eased his hair off his forehead.

  Several nerve endings fired, a jolt of pleasure rippling through him. Christ, if he was this sensitive to such an innocent touch, what would happen when she stroked and sucked his cock? Talk about stuff throwing him.

  She worked her fingers through his hair. “Where’s your weapon?”

  Where else? Throbbing like a horny sonofabitch between his legs.

  “Counter.” Van Gogh inclined his head. “No way do I want that shit near me.”

  Jasmina smiled softly. “I understand. But Kyle’s careful, aren’t you?”

  One more of her strokes and his eyes were going to roll into the back of his head while he shot his wad. “You’re safe with me.” He cleared his throat in order to keep speaking. “And Noah. No way will you get hurt.”

  She trailed her fingers over his temple. Kyle surrendered, lids slipping down, darkness enveloping him, her scent and touch the only things he needed for the rest of his days. “That feels good. Don’t stop.”

  “Gotta.” The rollers on Van Gogh’s chair made faint noises on the floor as he pushed away. “You’re finished.”

  Jasmina made a pleased sound. “It’s later. I’ll get Noah and bring him in here.”

  What—why? Kyle opened his eyes too late, catching a glimpse of her back as she left the room. He went to his elbows, ready to jump to his feet and follow.

  Van Gogh pushed him back to the table. “Don’t move.”

  “Why not? You said I was finished.” He looked down, his mouth sagging open at the tat. Even from this angle, the thing was fucking awesome, making him look like a damn Viking or a kickass rock star. “Shit, you did great. Do I have to keep lying down until the ink settles? Will it run?”

  Van Gogh pressed his fingers to the inside corners of his eyes. “No. I have to clean your skin now, smear ointment on the tat and cover the design so you don’t get an infection.”

  He couldn’t pull on his tee and simply take off? Crap. He should have paid more attention to Van Gogh’s endless instructions. “You’re going to put bandages on me?”

  “For your own protection. Keep them on for a couple of hours. Wash the tat daily, put ointment on to keep your skin lubed. You don’t want the design drying out. Depending on how long you usually take to heal, you should be good to go in ten to fourteen days. If you experience any problems, give us a call and we’ll take a look.”

  “Thanks. Any chance you have your instructions written down somewhere?”

  “Jasmina will give you the sheet. Don’t move so we can wrap this up.”

  Fine with him. Where were Jasmina and Noah? Why was she bringing him in here? For them to compare tats?

  Van Gogh breezed through the bandaging process. “Later.” He left without a backward glance.

  Kyle slid off the table and grabbed his service revolver, slipping the hostered weapon back into the waistband of his jeans. He was gingerly pulling his tee over his inked pec when Jasmina returned with Noah in tow.

  “You in pain?” Noah asked.

  Kyle yanked his shirt down, tensing from minor-, major- and medium-sized aches. “Nope. You?”

  “Not at all.”

  Yeah. They were both lying, trying to impress Jasmina.

  She stood to the side, regarding them. “Your rib areas—front and back—probably hurt the worst, since the skin on that part of your body is really thin, like the top of your feet. I heard getting a full tat there is murder.”

  The sting in his ribs and pec was enough for Kyle. “How long does the discomfort last?”

  “With me taking care of you, not long at all.”

  Huh? “What?”

  She turned her smile on both of them, her expression brimming with carnal hunger. “You guys are coming home with me. I’m going to take care of both of you like no one ever has.”

  Chapter Three

  She’d surprised them with her proposition, pleased them too, if their wide grins were any indication. Good. She wasn’t in the mood for verbal foreplay or mindless flirting. They were all adults, knew what they wanted.

  Kyle pulled a set of keys out of his front pocket. “I’ll drive.”

  “My pickup’s faster.” Noah’s keys dangled from a silver ring he held between his thumb and forefinger. “Has more muscle.”

  Jasmina suppressed a smile, liking how they tried to prove who kicked more ass. To her, both of them were everything that was good about men, their physical gifts undeniable and gloriously male, their personalities instilled with an inherent need to protect, promising she’d never be hurt around them.

  Her heart was hers to safeguard and she’d do a good job this time. However, their tenderness had moved her deeply. Probably too much. Already she liked them big-time, a dangerous matter for a woman who was only looking for fun.

  She stepped between them, resting her hands on theirs. “No need to drive. My place is a short walk from here.”

  When Marnie had moved in with Tor, she’d given up her apartment over Alice’s Wonderland, an upscale gift shop in the village. Jasmina had snatched up the place, needing to start fresh post-Brad, wanting to move out of her previous digs where she’d spent too much time with him.

  Noah shoved his keys back in his pocket. “Lead the way.”

  She would, until they arrived. Sheltered within her place, she’d allow them to take command, to sweep her from the real world to wicked fantasies she’d dreamed of but had never experienced, especially with two guys at once. Brad had been no more than a gangly boy, still clumsy in bed, always needing direction on what pleased her most. Noah and Kyle were men. Dangerously virile. Wonderfully dominant. She’d had daydreams about their cuffs that would probably make the guys blush.

  With a smile, she invited them to follow her.

  The sound of their heavy footfalls was exciting, their scents fueling her wayward desires, the stubble on their cheeks, chins and upper lips too delectable for words. A thousand jolts of electricity couldn’t have made her feel more alive, made her skin tingle more than it already did.

  She stopped at the storage room and gathered her backpack.

  Noah took charge immediately, relieving her of the thing.

  Jasmina sensed that even if pink-and-white polka dots and an image of Hello Kitty had graced the bag—rather than plain black fabric—he would have still carried it for her. He was comfortable in his own skin. Kyle too. Neither of them had to prove their masculinity.

  Noah slipped the strap over his shoulder and grimaced.

  “Oooh.” Poor baby. “Careful of your tat. Here, let me carry—”

  “I have it.” He shoved the backpack under his arm. “Tonight, we take care of you too.”

  Kyle smiled knowingly…somewhat indecently.

  Giddy with expectation, she led the way to the front. Dusk tinted the clouds a rainbow of colors—orange, gold, pink and purple, as vivid as Tor and Van Gogh’s artwork. Numerous clients waited on the leather sofas, smartphones in hands, talking or texting. some reading whatever was on their screens. Lauren leaned against the front counter. Tor inked a client in the window chair. Both of them regarded Jasmina with affection and more than a little concern. She winked, letting them know she could take care of herself.

  Tonight and the future held the promise of fun, nothing more. For her, a good time was enough.

  Outside the parlor, antique streetlamps lit the area with soft yellowish light, seductive and romantic.

 
Noah took her right hand before she got too far from his side. Kyle grabbed her left. Their firm grasps sent a torrent of sensations whisking through her, turning her legs to jelly. She suspected they wouldn’t allow her to escape from their touch tonight. A joyful moan bubbled in her throat.

  An older couple approached, giving her an odd look, no doubt because she had two guys holding her hands. She pitied them for not having what she did and surrendered to happiness, running her thumbs over Noah’s and Kyle’s.

  “Wait.” Noah slowed his pace and gently squeezed her fingers. “What do you like to eat? We should pick up something on the way.”

  Kyle leaned in. “Pizza? Burgers?”

  “Castillo’s.” A Cuban restaurant owned by Dante and Tor’s uncle. Island food straight from heaven. “You guys ever been there?”

  “Too many times to count.” Noah directed them toward the restaurant, past buildings in crayon-bright colors—yellow, green, purple, red—the doors and windows of the storefronts decked out with tiny white lights, making the scene feel like Christmas in July. Sweet-smelling flowers spilled over earthenware pots next to small trees in wooden buckets. Scents of spicy Jamaican, Thai and other ethnic cuisines lingered on the soggy breeze.

  Her stomach rumbled.

  Noah glanced over. “Hungry, huh? Want to eat at the restaurant or get takeout?”

  Oh please. Give her a hard choice, not something so easy. “Let’s bring the food with us, unless you guys object.”

  Kyle’s hooded eyes said he couldn’t wait to get her behind closed doors. Noah’s slow, sexy grin promised the same.

  Given the suffocating heat, no patrons ate in Castillo’s outside dining area. Mouthwatering odors of garlic, onion, spices, corn and grilled beef along with the promise of air-conditioning coaxed them inside. A Spanish guitar solo flowed from the sound system. Diners chatted and laughed in the cozy, candlelit space.

  Tor’s cousin, Ricardo, manned the front stand. “Hey—bienvenido.” He gave her a bear hug then studied her face. “What happened? These guys arrest you?” He turned to Kyle and Noah. “She been a bad girl?”

  Not yet.

  The guys embraced Ricardo, slapping him on the back.

  “Whoa, careful.” She grabbed Ricardo’s wrist before he could smack anyone in return. “Noah just got a tat. Kyle too. They’re in pain.”

  Kyle stopped gritting his teeth and touching his pec. “I’m good.”

  “Same here.” Perspiration dotted Noah’s forehead, either due to the horrible weather or his aching skin. “We’re here for takeout by the way.” He turned to her. “What do you want?”

  Her list was endless and didn’t include food. She longed to have this night last for weeks, possibly months, wanted the easy camaraderie they’d already established to grow into a pleasant friendship…though nothing more. Alarms rang in her mind, warning her of how easily she could fall for his and Kyle’s killer smiles, drool-worthy looks, easygoing natures and thoughtfulness.

  Kyle already had out his wallet, credit card in hand to pay for the meal. Noah held her backpack and waited patiently for her response. Nothing like Brad. He would have been dancing from foot to foot, whining like a two-year-old about being hungry or asking her to front him some cash until he got paid.

  Maybe she should leave before getting in too deep. She could run home, take a cold shower, get drunk and fantasize about this rather than living the dream and getting burned badly no matter her resolve to keep things casual.

  Noah lifted his eyebrows. “Not sure what you want?” He turned to Ricardo. “Can we see a menu?”

  “No.” She put out her hand, stopping him before he grabbed one off the desk. “Let’s get bocaditos—cheese and ham for me. I’ll also have boliche and a Skol.”

  Ricardo stroked his scruffy goatee. “You want booze I’ll have to see your driver’s license. Get your birthdate and weight.”

  She elbowed Kyle’s arm. “Shoot him. Please.”

  Kyle chuckled. “After he takes my order, promise.” He grew serious and commanding with Ricardo. “Bring the lady precisely what she wants. For me, I’ll have beef bocaditos, a couple of Skols and your skirt steak with the chimichurri sauce.”

  “I’ll have the same as him.” Noah inclined his head to Kyle. “Except make my bocaditos chicken. Throw in some caramel flan and the white cake you have with whipped cream. Can you put a rush on? We’re in a hurry.” He bumped her arm with his. “We have to take Jasmina to jail.”

  She laughed.

  Noah’s eyes sparkled with delight. Kyle played with her fingers.

  The room dipped and swayed, red swirling into green and blue from the richly hued walls, a tangle of emotions playing within her. Desire. Longing. Doubt. Unbearable need.

  The coming hours were going to be something.

  * * * * *

  Noah carried one sack of their meal, Kyle the other two. At Alice’s Wonderland, Jasmina crossed in front of Noah and stopped so suddenly he had to rear back to avoid bumping into her. An older woman with close-cropped gray hair waved enthusiastically from the front window of the gift shop. Behind her, a young couple browsed the space packed with gaudy stuff from way back when.

  Jasmina lifted her hand in greeting. “That’s my landlord, Alice.”

  And they were here to get the apartment key from the old lady? Noah looked to each side, trying to spy the closest complex. “Where’s your place?”

  “Over the shop.” She led them between the brick building and the adjacent structure to a back stairway.

  He exchanged a troubled glance with Kyle, worried about logistics. If any of them moaned too loudly, Alice or the customers might hear. Crap. Tonight was supposed to be private, between just the three of them. He rotated his shoulders, trying to relax, and only worsened his pain. Between his stinging skin, aching spine and endlessly rigid cock, he was one hot mess. Yet still horny, thank God.

  He bounded up the stairs to prove nothing would stop him from performing as a man should. Kyle must have had the same thought. He came up so quickly from behind, he ran into Noah, elbow ramming his side. Biting back a growl of agony, Noah looked over and glared.

  Kyle fell back a step and mouthed “sorry”.

  Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Noah caught up with Jasmina in the narrow hall. She’d halted at a door on the left rather than the one on the right. Alice’s place?

  “You’re not the only tenant?” he asked.

  “That’s storage over there, until Alice can rent the space.” Jasmina opened the door and gestured him inside her apartment. “Go on.”

  Not knowing what to expect, he couldn’t help but stare at the layout. No interior walls whatsoever, except for a small area partitioned to the right that he guessed was the bathroom. Everything else flowed together—kitchen, living room, bedroom, an overhead light illuminating everything.

  Especially her queen-size bed, which took up most of the meager space. Noah lowered her backpack to the floor.

  Kyle hugged the takeout bags so hard the paper crinkled.

  Jasmina kicked the door closed but didn’t bother throwing the numerous locks. “I’ll set up the meal. Remember, I’m taking care of you guys tonight. Go on, relax. You’re in pain.”

  No fucking kidding. With her mattress a few yards away and her this close, scented with sweet powder and musk, even his damn back wasn’t hurting as much as his boys and rod.

  “I’m good.” Kyle smiled so hard his cheeks had to be killing him. If his face got any redder, he’d have a stroke.

  “Yeah, I’m great too.” Noah joined her at the chrome-and-vinyl dining set that reminded him of the furniture his grandmothers had in their kitchens. The moment he opened the bag he’d carried, Jasmina slapped his hand.

  “Sit.” She pointed at a chair and leaned in. “Relax.” She skimmed his bristly jawline with her nail.

  He sank to the cushion, his legs no longer able to hold him, his skin exquisitely sensitive, a shower of sensations raining down his throat to his
chest and lower.

  “You too.” She gestured Kyle to a chair.

  He dropped into his seat as quickly as Noah had.

  She pulled plates, napkins, utensils and a bottle opener out of a cabinet and drawer. “You guys need a glass for your beers?”

  Noah shook his head. So did Kyle.

  “Too cool in here for you?”

  The window unit huffed away, blowing chilled air into the room. Noah couldn’t stop sweating. “I’m good.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle nodded. “Me too.”

  “Hmm.” She inhaled deeply of the deep-fried bocaditos, pastries filled with the cheese, ham, beef and chicken they’d ordered. After setting up the appetizers, she pushed the plate between them. “Dig in—don’t wait for me.”

  “I don’t mind.” Noah didn’t. “We should help.”

  “No, stay there and enjoy, I insist.”

  Not wanting to disappoint her, he ate. Somewhat mechanically, not tasting a thing, his mouth so dry he could barely swallow.

  Kyle opened a beer, took a healthy gulp and looked quickly guilty.

  “Go on, I got hers.” Noah opened a brew for Jasmina then himself, drinking greedily too, enjoying the brew’s bitter aftertaste.

  She placed his entrée and Kyle’s in front of them. “Feel better?”

  Noah laughed, a bit on the shrill side. Time to pull himself together and get tough. “I’m fine. However, you need to sit and eat.” He pointed at her chair. “Now. Before your food gets cold. I mean it.”

  Her cheeks pinked up. “Yessir.” She sat with one leg folded beneath her, transferring her boliche from the Styrofoam container to a plastic plate with blue-and-white daisies. Steam rose from the beef roast stuffed with hard-boiled eggs and chorizo sausage. On the side was a mound of beans and Spanish rice.

  She speared a forkful of beef and chorizo but didn’t taste the fare, gesturing to them with the utensil. “Seriously, are you guys in pain? Be honest. No need to pretend with me. I’m not impressed.”

  Talk about direct. Her candor was kind of nice though, relieving Noah of having to be Super Stud. “Okay yeah, my back feels like vampires fed on me. I’ll live though.”