Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [281]
“Do I want to know the number?”
“No,” he said.
“But I’ll bet I’ve never even come close to a number that large in my bed.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t kept track of what I was doing.”
“I’ve heard a little, enough to know you’ve cleared three digits, or close to it. So let’s agree not to get too possessive, or too self-righteous. Neither of us has the room for it.”
He covered his face with his hands and made a sound, almost a growl.
Jean-Claude looked at me, his face was fighting for neutral, but not quite making it. We were closer than we’d ever been to being a true triumverate, and Richard and I were blowing it.
“Fine, you’re right, you’re right. If this is going to work, you’re right,” Richard said.
I was the only one who saw the relief and surprise on Jean-Claude’s face. By the time Richard lowered his hands and sat up, Jean-Claude’s face was back to pleasant and unreadable.
I guess my face was surprised enough for both of us.
Richard smiled at me, though his eyes were still not happy.
“I wanted you in this bed. I’m not going to throw it away being stupid.” His smile brightened and finally filled his eyes. “Alright, I’ll try not to be too pigheaded, but lately I can’t seem to help it,”
“Welcome to my world,” I said.
The smile got warmer. “Trade me places,” he said.
I frowned. “What?”
“Trade me places.” He scooted away from Jean-Claude and patted the bed next to the other man.
“You here.”
I was still frowning, but not unhappy. I was more puzzled than anything. “Why?”
“I want to return the favor.”
“The favor?”
“Lay down,” he said, and patted the bed again. “Let Jean-Claude hold your hands.”
I couldn’t help frowning harder. “I’m not a headboard rider. He doesn’t need to hold my hands.”
“I felt how strong he is. Stong enough that when he holds your hands down you won’t be able to get free.”
I looked at his face.
“I am to be your ropes,” Jean-Claude said.
Richard nodded, but kept looking at me.
“And what will you be doing while Jean-Claude holds me down?”
“Whatever I want to do.”
I frowned harder. “Uh-unh, I need more of a clue than that.”
“Don’t you trust me?” And just the way he said it, the look in his face made me want to say no. If we’d been alone I don’t think I’d have let him tie me up without a detailed list of planned activities. But Jean-Claude I trusted to referee. This new, more reasonable, more seductive Richard, I wasn’t sure of yet.
“Anyone who’s said ‘trust me’ or ‘don’t you trust me’ to me couldn’t be trusted.”
“So you don’t trust me,” he said, and the smile faded at the corners.
“I didn’t say that.”
“What did you say, ma petite?” Jean-Claude asked.
“Yes.”
Richard frowned at me. Jean-Claude made a small line in his forehead, for him a frown, when he was trying not to show anything.
“Yes,” I said.
Jean-Claude smiled. It took Richard a moment longer to get it. “Yes,” he said.
I nodded.
“Yes,” he said again.
I nodded, again.
He smiled, and the smile was that wonderful smile. The one that made him look younger, more relaxed, more . . . himself, somehow.
I felt a smile spread across my face, a smile that I couldn’t stop and didn’t want to.
“Yes,” he said, still smiling.
“Yes,” I said.
“At last,” Jean-Claude said, and he was smiling, too.
60
JEAN-CLAUDE’S HANDS ON mine, his body spilled out along the head of the bed. The pillows had all been thrown to the floor, so there was nothing but the silk sheets and the three of us. “Trade places,” Richard had said. It had seemed so simple. I should have known nothing about Richard was ever simple.
He put his hands on my arms, just under where Jean-Claude held me. He wrapped those big hands around my arms, then began to slide his hands down my arms. He was only touching my arms, such an innocent place to touch, but he made the movement slow, and sensuous, trailing an edge of fingernail like the tiny press of something harder, and so much more dangerous against my skin. His hands reached under my arm, the trail of nails tickled, and made me writhe and giggle. Half because it tickled, and half