Now, Ava sat on the edge of the bed watching Lacey, who didn’t seem tentative or turned off at all. Rachel leaned back on her elbows while Lacey leaned over her and smoothed her hands over Rachel’s hair. Ava had to swallow a gasp when Lacey kissed Rachel.

“That’s hot, babe,” Bo said from his spot on the other bed, his erection clearly visible against his tight jeans. “Keep doing that.”

Ava swiveled and caught Rick’s gaze. He, too, seemed riveted on the action between Lacey and Rachel. Ava rose from the bed and went over to Rick, who pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arm around her.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you?”

He gave her a half smile. “I’m leaving it up to you. I’m good either way.”

She slid into the chair next to him. “Far be it for me to deny you some voyeuristic action. Go for it. You can even participate if you’d like.”

Rick pulled his gaze from the two women and leveled it on her. “But you’re just here to watch. You find the whole thing distasteful and you’re suppressing your puritan instincts for my benefit.”

She laughed. “I never claimed to be a puritan.”

“So maybe I just see you that way. Girl on girl and orgy just doesn’t seem to be your scene.”

“Really? And what does?”

He nuzzled her ear and whispered. “No clue, since I haven’t f**ked you yet. I don’t know what you like . . . or don’t like.”

Her body heated at his blunt words, at the thought of Rick discovering in detail what she did like. “Wow, you just put it right out there, don’t you?”

“Do you want me to hedge?”

“I guess not.” She would rather know what he was thinking. She just wasn’t used to a man like him. Maybe that’s what made him so interesting, so sexy. He was a man who seemed to know exactly what he wanted and didn’t want.

“Do you want to leave right now, or stick around to see what happens?”

Sitting next to him, her thigh pressed against his, her breast against his chest—made her want only one thing. But she was here for Lacey. She needed to find out what the hell was going on with her best friend. And frankly, she was curious about what was going to happen in this room between these four people.

“I’d like to stay for a while.”

“Okay. But you might want to relax a little. Your elbow is poking my ribs.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She leaned back in the chair and Rick put his arm around her.

But relax? Not likely. Not watching what was going on in the bed.

Bo put his beer down, wiped his mouth, and crawled on the bed with the two women, got between them, framed Lacey’s face between his large hands, and planted a long, hard kiss on her lips. Lacey rolled over and wrapped her legs around Bo.

Bo’s friend—Nathan was his name, she thought—also got up and went over to the bed. Rachel straddled him and rocked her panty-clad pu**y against his jeans while Nathan held her hips.

Bo shifted Lacey to the side so he could fondle her br**sts through her bra and watch what Nathan and Rachel were doing. With his other free hand, he pulled the zipper down on Lacey’s jeans.

Ava felt like a dirty voyeur, like they should get up and leave. They shouldn’t be watching this. Then again, if the couples had wanted privacy, they would have said so, wouldn’t they? And they certainly wouldn’t be doing what they were doing while the other couple watched.

Still, Lacey was her best friend, and she’d never seen her best friend be so—intimate—with a man. It felt wrong. Yet, she couldn’t seem to muster up the willpower to tear her gaze away, or tell Rick they should leave. Instead, she gripped the arm of the chair with one hand, Rick’s thigh with the other, and tried to ignore the pinging arousal of every nerve ending in her body. Which was damned difficult to do with Rick sitting next to her. She heard him breathing, felt his gaze on her. She didn’t know who he was watching more—her or the foursome on the bed. She was afraid to glance over in his direction, not sure what she’d do if she made eye contact, if he was as aroused as she was.

Watching these couples shouldn’t turn her on, but it did. It was like a movie come to life, four couples writhing together on the bed. Touching, kissing, undressing each other. And though she knew she shouldn’t be there, nothing could tear her away.

If she was any friend at all, she’d drag Lacey out of there.

But Lacey was an adult and capable of making her own decisions. Gone were the teenaged days of having each other’s backs. Lacey’d made her choices. And if her choice was to engage in group sex in a stoned, drunken stupor, so be it.

And now Ava was bearing witness to it all, which should make her feel squeamish as hell, not hot and bothered.

But Ava realized it had nothing to do with her best friend being star of the show, and everything to do with a hard-bodied sexy male crushed tightly in the chair next to her. The room was hot and his scent filled the space around them. Earthy, musky, like leather and the outdoors, Rick’s scent obliterated the stale odor of pot and beer that permeated the room.

She found she’d much rather focus on him, smell him, look at him. He was way more appealing than the action on the bed. She shifted, tilting her hip into the chair so she partially faced him.

“You bored?” he asked, picking up a strand of her hair.

“Watching other people have sex isn’t nearly as much fun as doing it.”

He cupped her chin between his fingers and brushed his lips across hers. Feather light, the shock to her senses was electric, more powerful than if he’d bruised her with a demanding, hard kiss. It left her wanting more . . . much more, charging her nerve endings with tiny pinpricks of awareness. Her body felt alive, needy. And with each slow slide of his mouth across hers, she was the one who felt drugged, drunk, and all she’d had was two sips of beer. It wasn’t alcohol driving her haywire. It was Rick, making her forget where she was, even who she was. All she could think about was grabbing onto his leather jacket and drawing him closer, throwing her leg over his so she could rub her pu**y against his thigh.

She was wet, the denim of her jeans pressing her panties into her moist flesh, making her aware of how much she wanted him, wanted this. When he pulled away, Ava glanced over at the bed.

Lacey’s jeans were off. So was her bra. Rachel was na**d and Nathan’s mouth was latched onto one of her nipples.

Bo had moved Lacey underneath him and ground his jean-clad body against her, his hands all over her br**sts while he kissed her.

The sensory overload was too much, the decadence exciting her to boiling point. She couldn’t take anymore of this.

She turned to Rick. “Take me out of here now and f**k me.”

He stood, offering his hand to pull her up.

In that split second she caught sight of his erection visible against his jeans. She shuddered and tilted her head, licked her lips.

Rick grabbed his jacket, hers, and walked them out of the room without a word. Really, there was nothing to be said. The others were too engrossed in their own passion to even care . . . or notice . . . that they were leaving.

And Ava was too intent on Rick to care about saying good-bye. There was only one thing she wanted now.

Rick.

SEVEN

Ava shivered in the elevator.

“You cold?”

She shook her head.

“Nervous?”

“No. Not nervous.”

Rick moved in, palmed the wall on either side of her shoulders, his erection making contact with her aching pussy. She nearly died right there, shocks of pleasure centered at her clit, right where he touched her.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Just get me to my room, unless you’re fond of elevator sex.”

His lips curled, and oh, God, the heat in the elevator tripled when he smiled like that. It was a good thing she had the wall at her back for support, because her legs were useless.

“I’m okay with elevator sex if you don’t think you can wait that long.”

Thank God the doors opened right then because she was just about ready to take him up on his offer. He took her hand and dragged her down the hall.

“Your room or mine?” he asked.

She’d already fished her key out of her bag. “Mine’s closer.”

He grabbed the key from her hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. She was inside, the door shut, and Rick had her in his arms a split second later. Their jackets fell to the floor. It was pitch-black in the room and she felt blind as Rick walked her backward a few steps until she hit the wall.

That’s as far as they got before his lips came crashing down on hers.

Ahh, contact. His body moved in, flush against hers so she could feel every muscle, every hard, throbbing part of him. His mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding inside to lick against hers. His hands roamed her shoulders, down her arms, stroking her h*ps and waist, traveling around to cup her buttocks and bring her even closer to the rock-hard heat of his cock.

His mouth did delicious things to her senses—what little senses she had left, anyway. All she could focus on was his touch, the way he tasted, the masterful way he held her—so firm and tight in his arms—and yet she sensed a strong desperation like maybe he, too, wanted this as badly as she did. Could that even be possible? Rick always seemed so laid-back, like nothing really mattered to him.

Did this matter?

When he pulled the bottom of her shirt out of her jeans and he laid his palm over the bare skin of her belly, she shuddered and tilted her head back, breaking the kiss. She needed air, some coherence, something to balance her. She felt out of control and she was never out of control. Sex had always been easy, a natural progression that arose out of dinner, a few drinks, being comfortable and relaxed with her partner.

This was anything but easy and relaxed. It was tense, agitated, crazy, a frenzy of passion and pent-up anxiety. Her entire body felt like it was ready to explode at the slightest touch—Rick’s touch. She couldn’t handle this.

“What’s wrong?”

She panted through the words. “I can’t . . .”

And then she felt Rick’s tension. He took a step back.

Oh, no. That’s not what she’d meant.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“No.” She grabbed his arms. “Wait.” She wasn’t going to let this happen again. She wasn’t going to let him slide on the brakes because she hesitated. Because she feared that loss of control.

Maybe it was good to experience out of control for once, to let someone else take charge and see what it felt like. So far, it was giddy and exhilarating, even if it did make her dizzy. Maybe it was all the secondhand pot she’d inhaled in Bo’s room.

But she doubted it. Not when Rick’s hands snaked up her bare belly, moving her shirt with them.

“You sure?”

The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek.

“Yes.” She clasped onto his wrist, held him there. “Touch me.”

Her heart skittered and raced as his fingertips hit the edge of her bra and skimmed over the satin.

“You have nice breasts, Ava. I want to suck your nipples.”

His whispered words in the dark made her wet, made her cl*ttingle, made her want to slide her hands down her jeans and make herself come right now. But before she could do anything, he lifted her shirt, forcing her arms in the air so he could remove it.

He laid his hand on her cheek and slid his palm down her neck, along her collarbone, and to her shoulder, then walked his fingers to the swell of her breasts, caressing her with feather-light touches that made her gasp.

And then he lingered against her left breast, as if he were feeling her heartbeat. Just a slow slide of his fingers, back and forth. Maddening. And too damn slow. It was time to speed this along. She wanted him inside her right now.

She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down, then reached for the clasp of her bra.

But he was faster than her. He pushed her hand away.

“That’s my job.”

“You’re too slow.”

“You in a hurry?”

She blew out a sigh. “Kind of, yes.”

“You have an appointment?”

He was laughing at her. Dammit. “No.”

“Then why rush this? We have all night.”

“Because. I want this. I want you. I want it now.”

He slid his arms around her waist and jerked her against him. Her thighs pressed against his, her hip rubbed his erection. She reached between them and palmed his cock, measuring him, feeling the heat of him that permeated the denim. When he hissed, she knew his control came at a great cost. Somehow it made her feel better, like her frenzy wasn’t as one-sided as she’d thought.

But he obviously had much greater control than she did at the moment. And she’d always prided herself on her control. But not tonight, and definitely not right now. She went for his belt buckle, and once again he stopped her.

“Uh uh. Not time for that yet, honey. We need to relax you.”

Relax? Out of the question.

But then he distracted her by kissing her. God, could he ever kiss. She couldn’t remember any man spending so much time kissing her, and especially not so thoroughly. He pulled her ponytail holder out and threaded his fingers through her hair, held her head and plundered her lips with the intent of a pirate searching for treasure.

His kisses mesmerized her, made her tingle all over, but they didn’t relax her. If that was his intent then he failed miserably. She heard the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears, felt her heart beating erratically against his chest, and her legs trembled so much that if he hadn’t been holding on to her she might have fallen. This—this was not relaxed. Did he have any idea what his kisses did to her?