What She Craves Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Tory heard a knock on her front door and she fairly leaped out of her skin. She gave herself one last glance in her bathroom mirror. She’d decided, after trying several different styles, to wear her hair loose. It fell to her shoulders, smoothed out with a little straightening gel and a flat iron. The only piece of jewelry she wore was her grandmother’s pearls. She loved feeling the weight of them against her neck. Her Nana had loved the pearls, claiming they brought good luck. Tory could use all the luck she could get tonight.

  Grabbing her purse, Tory left the room. She took a deep breath, then opened the front door—and proceeded to drool.

  Devon stood on her front step, one broad shoulder braced against the doorframe, wearing a crisp white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of black slacks that showed off his long, powerful legs. She’d never seen him looking quite so magnificent. He’d even tried to comb the wild mane of his hair into some semblance of style. She could have told him he shouldn’t have bothered. Tory had always liked Devon’s messy brown hair.

  “You look great,” Tory complimented, hoping her voice didn’t sound quite as throaty as she suspected.

  His grin, laced with just a shade of masculine need, melted her insides as he stared down at her. “And you look sexy as hell, sugar.”

  Tory’s hands shook with nerves. Another first. Devon never made her nervous. They’d been friends too long for that. Three years of knowing a person, seeing them at their best as well as their worst, tended to bridge the gap. Admittedly, Devon wasn’t acting himself of late. For instance, the way he looked at her now, as if he wanted to run his tongue over her, slowly, for hours. Yeah, that was a new one.

  “Thanks. I spent a bloody fortune, so it better look fabulous.”

  “You’re a total babe. I’m going to have to fend the guys off.”

  Tory narrowed her eyes. “Why would you even bother?”

  Devon stepped through the front door. His hand lifted to her cheek, and the warm strength of him obliterated her nerves in an instant. “Because you’re with me,” he growled.

  “This isn’t a date,” Tory reminded him—and herself. If only she could stop thinking of it in that light, it’d give her words more credibility.

  “I’m a man. You’re a woman. We’re going to a party together. How is that not a date?”

  “We’re friends. This is no different than if I were going on a bike ride with Summer.”

  “So, Summer thinks you look sexy, then? Summer can’t take her gaze off the way that satin hugs your curves?”

  “Devon.” His name and nothing more. It was all Tory could manage in that moment.

  He stroked a finger down her chin, then removed his hand altogether. She shivered clear to her toes. “Come on, sugar. Let’s party.”

  She smiled, feeling her confidence level rise a notch. She was going out with one of her best friends and she was going to have a good time. Simple as that.

  Fifteen minutes later, when Tory entered Con’s mansion—and that was the only way to describe a house the size of Con’s—she took in the beautiful decorations. One of the tallest trees she’d ever seen filled one corner of the great room. Mistletoe hung in various spots around the spacious room. The winding staircase leading to the second floor was decorated with large red bows and evergreen wreaths. The festive atmosphere warmed her heart. Con had grown up being bounced from one foster home to another. Poor and alone, with the exception of Devon, Con had built quite a life for himself with a lot of hard work and a good sense of business. Christmas music and more than a hundred guests filled the place to bursting and made her feel less skittish. Big crowds of strangers she could handle. It was the man at her side who had her wondering.

  Tory quickly scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Con anywhere. “Where’s the man of the hour?”

  Devon placed his hand at the small of her back and led her across the room. “Probably in the kitchen. You know how he is about the food. Everything has to be perfect or he has a conniption.”

  She envisioned Con hovering over some poor unsuspecting chef and groaned. “We’d better find him before we have a repeat of last year’s Christmas party.”

  Devon snorted. “Con deserved to have cheesecake dumped over his head. He was being an ass.”

  She clutched her purse tighter as they neared the double doors leading into the kitchen. “But it was a waste of a perfectly good cheesecake, and that’s just wrong no matter how you look at it.”

  “I’d forgotten how much you loved that stuff.” He chuckled. “Con felt terrible because you looked so sad over the loss.”

  Pushing the door inward, she groused, “I wasn’t sad. No one gets sad over cheesecake.”

  Devon snorted. “You looked like a little lost puppy.”

  She started to protest that ridiculous statement, but the sight that greeted her inside the huge room with its stainless steel counters and cabinets took her breath. Not one, but three cheesecakes sat on the counter mere feet away. One was topped with strawberries, another with cherries, and the third was drizzled with chocolate sauce. Drooling would be extremely unladylike, Tory remaindered herself. She spied Con next to the stove, hovering near a steaming pot of…something. He turned, and their gazes clashed. The slow grin that spread across his face had her heart beating faster. Con should never be allowed to smile. It was like watching the sun rise over Cadillac Mountain in Maine. It made you want to stop and stare for a good ten minutes.

  Unable to budge even an inch, Tory watched as Con crossed the room then gently pulled her into his arms. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. Inching backward, he looked her over. “You look gorgeous, baby.”

  Taking advantage, Tory let her gaze wander. Con’s close-cropped midnight black hair, navy blue slacks and the white dress shirt straining to contain his thickly muscled torso sent a little shiver down her body. Con was a big man. Powerful. A little intimidating until you got to know him. His silver eyes and the hard planes of his face told of a rough life. Oh, Con might be rolling in money now, but Tory knew it hadn’t always been that way. In fact, growing up, he and Devon both had been forced to fight just to survive. She didn’t know all of it, but the little she did know always made her heart ache for the pair.

  “Thanks,” she said. “You, uh, clean up pretty well yourself.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He tweaked her nose. “If you’re going to be ornery, then you won’t get any of my cheesecake.”

  She peeked around his shoulder and sighed. “There are three of them.”

  Con stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. “And I made each one myself. So, be a good girl tonight.”

  Devon stepped forward, a frown marring his handsome face. “Why three?”

  “To make up for last year’s fiasco,” Con muttered. “Hell, Tory, you looked so sad when you saw that ruined dessert, I figured I owed you.”

  Tory planted her hands on her hips and glared at the two men. “For the last time, I wasn’t sad. Upset, yes. That cheesecake looked delicious. But I was not sad, for crying out loud.”

  “Were too,” Con and Devon both said at the same time.

  It was futile to argue with the two of them. Especially when they chose to gang up on her. “Whatever,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “I need a drink.”

  “Champagne?” Con ventured.

  “White wine, Con,” Devon said. “Tory hates champagne.”

  “Oh, right.” Con headed toward the long steel countertop where several crystal glasses sat. He picked up a bottle of white wine and held it up for her to inspect. “This just arrived, actually. I’ve been letting it breathe. It’s a new winery I’m thinking of investing in. You’ll be my taste-tester.”

  “As long as I get to be your cheesecake taste-tester as well, I’ll be whatever you want.”

  Con glanced over at Devon, and the pair exchanged a mysterious look. Neither spoke as Con poured the wine. He brought it to her. Tory sniffed the fragrant liquid. Spicy an
d sweet. Interesting. She took a sip. “Smooth, sweet, but not too sweet. Nice.”

  “Good.”

  The music changed, and suddenly Tory wanted to dance. “Which of you is going to dance with me? Don’t make me look for someone else, I don’t feel like doing the flirting thing tonight.”

  “I thought I made it clear you’re my date,” Devon chastised. “No flirting unless it’s with me.”

  “Or me,” Con said, his voice low, a little rough.

  Tory looked at Devon, then Con. She couldn’t tell if they were teasing or not. She didn’t want to know, either. Instead she took another sip of her wine. Devon plucked the glass out of her hand and handed it to Con. “Come on, sugar. You can move those sexy hips all you want.”

  As they went back out to the main room, Con following close behind, Tory’s mind whirled with the possibility that the two men were making a move on her. Could it be? Devon tended to flirt. It was just his way. Con, not so much. So, what was up with them tonight? She started to change her mind about the dance when a man stepped in front of her. She recognized him instantly. Erik Masters. They’d gone out once. There hadn’t been anything wrong with the date, but the chemistry hadn’t been there and she’d avoided his calls after. While everyone else was dressed to the nines, Erik wore a pair of tight black jeans and a brick red pocket T-shirt. He wasn’t necessarily a handsome man—his features were too rugged to be considered handsome—but he wasn’t hard on the eyes, either. The come-and-get-it smile on his lips made her face go hot.

  “Hi, Tory. I saw you arrive and hoped we’d get a chance to talk.” His gaze traveled over her body, giving her the once-over before coming back to her face. “You’re awfully damn hard to miss in that pretty dress. A man would have to be blind.”

  “Thank you, Erik. It’s nice to see you again.” Tory could feel Devon tense beside her and she could swear Con had moved closer behind. Heck, his entire body brushed against hers now. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Erik was hitting on her, but why would that bother Devon or Con?

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “She’s here with me tonight, Erik.” Devon said, as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close to his side. She glanced up at Devon and nearly swallowed her tongue at the lethal look he pinned Erik with. Wow, Devon’s expression was positively deadly.

  Erik spared Devon a glance and shrugged, as if Devon were nothing more than an annoying insect, then zeroed in on her once more. “Would you care to dance with me?”

  Her gaze darted to Devon. Yikes. She recognized the barely leashed rage easily. Tory looked back at Erik, surprised when he seemed unfazed. Which meant the guy was either suicidal or not quite the brightest of bulbs. Considering he owned a thriving concrete business, he wasn’t stupid. That left suicidal.

  “I'm sorry, Erik, but I promised Devon I’d dance with him.” She smiled, hoping to take some of the sting out of the rejection. “Thanks for the offer, though. It was very sweet.”

  Erik nodded, one side of his mouth kicking up as he dared, “Maybe later, then.”

  As he made his way to the other side of the room, Tory peeked over at Devon. She noticed he stared at Erik’s back for what seemed like an eternity.

  Devon’s blue gaze came back to her. “You seem to be turning me into a jealous idiot. The thought of Erik’s hands coming anywhere near your body just about caused me to land a fist in his face.” His eyes narrowed, as if he were bewildered by his own actions. She well understood, because she was every bit as confused.

  “Erik and I dated once, remember?” She knew he remembered, because at the time Devon had told her she could do better. Still, she felt compelled to remind him.

  “I remember,” he said, his voice low, hard.

  “So do I,” Con said from behind her. “He was an ass then and he’s an ass now. I don’t know how he managed to get an invite to my party, but I sure as hell didn’t send him one.”

  Tory turned her head and looked up at Con. His gaze, usually so cool, even remote at times, blazed so hot Tory felt seared clear to the bone. “Erik wasn’t an ass. We just didn’t click, that’s all. And you two are acting so strangely tonight. What’s going on?”

  The men looked at each other, then back at her. Con was the first to speak. “We’re not acting, Tory. You’ve just never seen this side of us because we’ve kept it from you.”

  She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? And what side would that be, pray tell?”

  “The lover side,” Devon blurted out. Con shoved him. Both of them looked way too satisfied with themselves. It pissed her off.

  Tory stepped closer and poked Devon in the chest. “You aren’t my lover and neither is Con. We’re friends. So quit with all the chest beating and the innuendos.” She looked between the two of them. “I came here to have fun with my two friends, not to get mixed up in some convoluted delusion you two are suffering from.”

  Con’s eyebrows shot up. “You think we’re delusional?”

  “Well, what else could it be?” Her voice was rising, and people were beginning to stare. She took a few deep breaths before continuing in a more reasonable tone. “My two closest guy buds are suddenly acting like a couple of lions on the prowl, and for whatever reason they think I should be the lioness for their little lion sandwich. No thanks.”

  Con chuckled. “I don’t know about a lion sandwich, but I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing a certain kitty purr.”

  Oh, God. That should not have her pussy going damp with need, it really shouldn’t. Tory knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was way out of her element with Devon and Con. An image of the two men naked, pleasuring her, sprang to mind. It was forbidden, and she instantly felt guilty for even allowing the picture to invade her mind at all. Instinctively she knew that Con and Devon would be nothing like the other men she’d dated. She’d always gone for the easy, staid sort of men. Con and Devon were bold, candid and insatiable when they got their hooks into something…or someone. Tory didn’t know what to make of this new situation.

  “Dance with me.” Devon murmured, holding his hand out for her. “I want to get you in my arms, that’s all. I want to feel you against me. Just that, Tory, nothing more.” Hypnotized and unable to resist, Tory lifted her hand. Devon took it and tenderly kissed her knuckles. Tory let out her breath and allowed Devon to steer her toward the center of the room where several other couples danced to the beat of Bing Crosby. As Devon’s arms came around her, Tory looked to the left and saw Con watching them, a tender smile on his face.

  “I can feel you trembling, sugar. Don’t think this to death. Just feel. That’s all, just feel.”

  Feel? How could she do any less with Devon’s powerful arms surrounding her, embracing her in his warmth? He pulled her up against his hard strength, and Tory knew Devon’s earlier words were nothing short of the truth. Tonight was going to be a night they’d never forget.

  Chapter Three

  Tory felt at home. It was odd, but there it was. Nothing could ever harm her with Devon’s strong arms holding her tight. She twined her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in tighter. She immediately knew what he wanted to show her. The rigid thickness of his cock now pressed into her belly. Tory’s knees went weak. Her eyes sought his, searching for confirmation. His wicked smile sent her blood pressure soaring. He rotated his hips, causing heat to pool between her legs and her face to flame.

  Leaning down, his hot breath against her ear, Devon whispered, “Don’t be embarrassed, sugar. You’re beautiful. Feeling your sweet curves against me is driving me right out of my mind.” He lifted his head, his gaze so dark she barely saw the pupils. “I’m not going to do anything about it. Not unless you want me to. Do you want me to, Tory?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Are you a little turned on?” he whispered against her ear.

  “Maybe,” she confessed. “But we’re friends, Devon.”

  “And friends can’t be
lovers?”

  Tory shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had it happen before.”

  “Maybe we should find out where this could go.”

  “Devon’s right.”

  Tory froze at the deep baritone coming from directly behind her. Turning her head, she saw Con, and he was close. Close enough she could smell his clean masculine scent and see the tension riding him.

  The ramifications of what they were saying hit her at once. “Both of you?” Her nipples hardened as if begging to be touched, tasted, played with by Con and Devon both. Her nipples were total sluts, she decided.

  Con cupped the back of her neck. It was a strong, possessive hold. Tory couldn’t move. “You sound surprised, baby.”

  “Surprised barely covers it,” she said, and her voice sounded husky. Damn it, she sounded aroused. “You two must have had too much to drink or something.” Lighten the mood, she lectured herself. While you’re at it, remember who you’re with, you wanton.

  Con tsked. “You know better. Devon never drinks, and I only had a few sips of that white wine you tasted earlier.”

  She did know Devon’s rigid stance on alcohol. His father had been an abusive drunk and, as a result, Devon never touched the stuff. “Then maybe I’m the one who’s had a little too much.”

  “Come upstairs with us, sugar. Where we can be alone. We can talk about this in private.”

  “Talk?” she asked, turned on despite her suspicions.

  “Talk, nothing more. Unless it’s what you want,” he added. “I promise.”

  “You have our word, baby,” Con said, adding his two cents to Devon’s. “The ball’s in your court.”

  “But you don’t deny you want me. Both of you. At once.” She said it quietly, but still it felt like all eyes were on her.

  “We won’t lie to you,” Devon said. “Having you is something we’ve both fantasized about, Tory.”

  Tory slapped a hand over her eyes. “Oh, God. This is so crazy.”

  Con pried her hand away, a tender smile on his face. “Crazy because you like the idea, or crazy because the thought is repugnant?”