Excerpt
Why was Hunter here, tonight of all nights? Ruining her surprise.
Her heart tripped. Wait. Was Hunter her surprise?
She’d only met him once, a month ago. He managed the Cuthbert & Cole construction projects on the Island, returning to Vancouver every few weeks to hit the clubs and talk business with Gil. He’d spied them dancing at Forbidden, and at first Layla hadn’t realized who he was. Forget cutting in—Hunter had hauled her out of Gil’s arms. She’d thought her guy would clobber him. However, Gil had just laughed and told her to enjoy dancing with Hunter while he refreshed their drinks.
She’d enjoyed herself, all right. Hunter’s club moves were as sexy as Gil’s. The man danced like he was screwing her, holding her snug against his pelvis, then spinning her around and grinding her ass. His erection had burned the thin fabric of her dress, and her pussy had responded, clit fattening like it did now.
Once Gil had returned and Hunter had migrated to a different partner, Layla had confessed the sexy dance to her guy. While monogamy had never been her style, something about Gil Cuthbert roused a longing deep inside her, a mushy-as-a-greeting-card yearning she had never before realized she possessed. Gil was more to her than a great lay with a ready smile, a killer sense of humor, and the lean body of a surfer. She wanted to hang on to him, see what developed. No way would she have risked Hunter tattling about their dirty dancing and Gil dumping her as a result.
“This could get interesting.” Siri tucked her umbrella beneath one arm.
I’ll say. Layla drew in a breath.
“You’re lucky Gil’s not jealous,” Siri murmured. “If Rick saw another guy looking at me like that, he’d tear him apart.”
“I thought he wasn’t into you,” Layla whispered.
“He’s into his own testosterone.”
Layla smiled. “Gil’s not jealous.” That night in Forbidden, after she’d described Hunter’s moves, Gil said he liked knowing his friend thought she was hot, had even hinted that they’d shared women in the past. Later, while they’d screwed their brains out at her place, Layla pictured Hunter stepping in, passing her back and forth between him and Gil.
When she came, she screamed until the rafters rattled.
“Think Hunter will hit on you again?” Siri asked beneath the music.
Layla had confided in Siri about the dance and Gil’s sharing comment—and what it might mean for her and her guy. Siri was Layla’s friend as well as her coworker, and Layla needed someone to help her weigh the pros and cons of remaining faithful to one man or returning to sleeping with any dude who tickled her libido.
For sure, Layla didn’t want to share Gil with another woman. He was hers, hers, hers. A double standard she wasn’t proud of, but there it was.
“If he does, what should I do?” she asked Siri.
“Layla, Gil is here,” her friend replied in quiet tones. “If he had a problem with Hunter ogling you, he’d say something instead of encouraging it. Can’t you see that they’re both sending you a message with those looks?”
“You think?”
“Let me put it this way. Rick and I have been having argyle-sock sex lately. Fucking argyle, Layla. If you’re given the opportunity to jump all over those two handsome studs and don’t take advantage of it, I will.”
Obviously in a better mood, Siri sauntered across the room to say hello to Gil and no doubt size up Hunter. Layla pretended to rearrange the teapots on the mahogany display pedestals. Gil checked out Siri as they talked, the Indian music obscuring their words. Hunter’s hungry gaze remained riveted on Layla.
Her mouth dried. With the fawn-brown hair and bluish-black eyes she’d inherited from her Egyptian-born father, she’d never experienced difficulty snagging men. Most wanted to get off to a Cleopatra illusion, and she’d eagerly obliged.
That was before she’d hooked up with Gil. Now she didn’t know what she wanted.
She was one confused chick.
Siri said goodnight to the guys and Layla. Popping up her umbrella, she left the shop with the deposit bag.
Gil pushed back his chair and ambled to the counter. Layla smiled, breath hitching in her chest.
“Hey, beautiful.” He clasped her hand on the sienna-colored tiles. “Ready to lock up?”
She nodded.
He brushed her long hair over one shoulder. “Good. I want us alone.”
“But Hunter’s here.” Still watching her. Watching them.
“He doesn’t mind. Do you?” Gil stepped around the counter and cupped her breasts over her purple silk top. Her bare arms shivered. His thumbs teased her nipples, and ripples of excitement wove through her. “Answer honestly, baby,” he said in a deep, sexy voice.
Swallowing, Layla glanced Hunter’s direction. “I don’t mind.”
The rough pads of Gil’s fingertips glided over her neck. “Layla, I adore you. I want to show you how much.” Turning her head, he placed a soft kiss on her mouth. “I want to give you what you need.” Her thighs hummed. Was he for real? If she came clean, so to speak, about her fascination with Hunter, would Gil be willing to indulge her?
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