Between Friends

Chapter One

“Shit! Eddie, we’re never going to get this finished before Whit gets home.” Mick didn’t bother disguising the distress in his voice as he cast a quick glance at his paint-splattered best friend and sometimes lover.

“Well, standing there bitchin’ about it isn’t going to get this done any faster.” Eddie globbed more paint onto the fuzzy roller. “Need I remind you this wasn’t my idea? I tried to tell you renovating this part of the house in two weeks was impossible, but you wouldn’t listen.”

Not wanting to hear another round of Eddie’s I-told-you-so routine, Mick shot him the finger. “I heard you the first nine times. But…seriously…what are we going to do?”

“No idea.” Eddie shrugged his bare shoulders. The house was unbearably hot, and the two men had stripped down to shorts to keep cool while working frantically to patch up the nightmare they’d created. With every stroke of the paint roller, the muscles of Eddie’s well-defined back rippled. Apparently those workouts with his fellow SWAT members were paying off in spades.

Mick’s gaze lingered on the tantalizing sight a moment too long. Eddie shot him a frown. “Dude, focus!”

Mick tore away his appreciative gaze and tried to suppress the wicked images now flickering in his mind. There would be time for that later. Right now, they had a serious problem to tackle.

His stomach soured as he studied the living room and what he could see of the dining room. A long slab of plywood balanced across a pair of sawhorses served as a makeshift worktable and held paint cans and roller covers. Sheets of clear plastic covered the floor, protecting the bamboo planks he’d mistakenly installed before finishing up the painting. He cringed at the memory of Eddie’s delighted guffaws at his amateur move.

Jagged edges of Sheetrock marked what had once been a wall and was now a glaring, gaping hole looking into the dining room. Exposed concrete waited for its new hardwood covering. The boxes of flooring sat stacked in a corner of the dining room with assorted other boxes of renovation supplies. The hardwood planks were the wrong color, of course, and needed to be returned and exchanged.

“Christ, what the hell were we thinking?” Mick rubbed his face and immediately regretted it. He felt the slick smudge of wet paint on his cheeks. “Great. Just fucking great!”

Eddie laughed his deep belly laugh and leaned against the long pole attached to the paint roller. “Sage is a good look for you.”

Mick shot both fingers this time. He blew out a rough breath. “Whitney is going to flip when she sees this-and not in the way we’d envisioned.”

For months now, their roommate Whitney had been dropping hints about making some changes to the house. Mick and Eddie had resisted. With the plunging real estate values, they were almost upside down on the mortgage. Things were finally settling down, and they’d been able to refinance at a lower fixed rate. The idea of renovating no longer seemed quite so daunting. It was doable so long as they stuck to their budget.

And it would make Whitney happy.

Mick took another look at the mess and wondered when things had gotten so complicated. Had he ever done something so stupid for a woman? Would he have taken on such a project for anyone else?

No. The answer was swift and sure.

Whitney Montcrief was one of a kind. When she’d answered the roommate listing, Mick’s first instinct had been to say no. For starters, she was female, and they’d originally planned to stick with another guy to preserve the all-male dynamic in the house. Throw in her pale blonde hair and those arresting green eyes, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Two bisexual men and a nubile young woman sharing a house? Worst. Idea. Ever.

Some days the sexual tension threatened to blow the roof off the place. For twelve months, they’d been tiptoeing around the subject. Eddie wasn’t the kind to take risks, not after the Miranda fiasco. He liked things simple and straightforward and safe. Mick, on the other hand, enjoyed a little risk, but the thought of crossing that line and hurting Eddie kept his desire at bay. Mick honestly didn’t know if their friendship would survive another Miranda.

So here they were, tearing up their home in the hopes of impressing the woman neither of them were ballsy enough to go after. Yeah. Smart. Real smart.

“Maybe if we just get the living room finished, she won’t notice the rest.”

Mick’s hopeful tone seemed to amuse Eddie. The corner of his mouth curved in a smile. “Maybe she’ll be so blinded by our wonderful paint job she won’t see this ugly-ass hole where that wall used to be. Yep. Sounds like a plan, Mick.”

Mick gritted his teeth and counted to five. “Look, if we move around the furniture, we can probably block most of the missing wall with the entertainment center. We’ll stash all the construction crap in the dining room and shut the doors.”

Eddie considered his suggestion. “If she’s really tired from her flight that might work tonight. Maybe she’ll just walk by the dining room and not ask any questions, but tomorrow morning?” Eddie shook his shaved head. “We’re fucked. You know she likes to eat her scrambled eggs and toast in the dining room while she checks her blogs and newspapers.”

Actually Mick didn’t know that. His shift at the ER started before Eddie or Whit were awake in the mornings. He typically grabbed his breakfast on the way into work and missed that quaint scene of domestic bliss. A small flare of jealousy irritated his already frayed nerves. “So what do you suggest?”

“We work our asses off to get this done or as close to done as possible.” Eddie picked up his paint roller and headed back to the wall. “And hope for the best.”

Mick stared at Eddie for a second and then grudgingly got back to work. There really was no other option.

Together they managed to finish painting the living room and were installing the new ceiling fan when Mick heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching car. Eddie’s paint-stained hands went still. The screwdriver clamped between his teeth fell to the floor with a noisy clatter. Mick was certain he displayed the same oh-shit expression reflected on Eddie’s face.

“Is that Whit?”

Mick hopped off the stepladder and rushed to the window. His stomach dropped like a runaway elevator. “Yeah. In a taxi.”

“We weren’t supposed to pick her up for hours.”

Mick rushed back to the stepladder and snatched up the screwdriver. He climbed up to help Eddie rush the installation of the ceiling fan. Seconds sped by so quickly. Their fingers fumbled and slipped. Eddie cursed a few times before finally securing the base on the ceiling mount and getting the last screw in place. Mick stepped off the ladder a fraction of a moment before the front door swung open.

“What is all that crap in the front yard? It looks like Home Depot exploded on our sidewalk.” Whitney’s confused voice drifted in from the hallway. In a few seconds, she’d come around the corner.

Mick’s knotted stomach ached fiercely. Eddie stood frozen on the stepladder. Luggage wheels thunked, and high heels clacked on the entryway tile. “I took an earlier flight from Miami. I couldn’t wait to get home and relax with my two favorite-”

Whit’s voice trailed off as she appeared in the arched doorway. A flirty white sundress contrasted the warmth of her sun-kissed skin. Her fingers slowly drew down the designer sunglasses perched on her nose. Those soft green eyes widened as she looked around the demolished living room and dining room. Shock filtered across her pretty face.

Mick shot a quick glance at Eddie, but his friend’s gaze was fixed on Whitney. Mick silently prayed Whit wouldn’t blow up on them. Eddie was the kind of guy who would race through hell with a cup of gasoline just for the thrill of it, but that roughened exterior hid an incredibly sensitive man. One cross word from Whitney and Mick just knew Eddie would be crushed.

Whitney shoved her sunglasses onto the crown of her head. She left her hot-pink suitcase standing in the doorway and took a slow tour of the mess. “Well”-she put her hands on her hips-“I’ve seen worse.”

Mick exhaled with relief. She wasn’t pissed. Annoyed? Hell yes. But she wasn’t angry, and that’s all that mattered.

“We wanted to surprise you.” Eddie stepped off the ladder. “We just didn’t figure on a number of setbacks throwing us off schedule.”

“You’ve always got to account for Murphy.” Whit spoke with the authority of a young woman responsible for coordinating some of the biggest fashion shows in New York and Los Angeles. “If something can go wrong, it absolutely will.” She paused and flashed them a smile. “I appreciate the effort, though.”

Mick’s stress melted. He sensed Eddie was at ease now.

Whitney pointed to the stacks of hardwood flooring visible through the gaping hole. She wrinkled her cute little nose. “Those have to go back. They are way too dark for the dining room.”

Mick laughed, not the least bit surprised she’d noticed. “We were planning to take them back later.”

“So what’s the story of the half-nakedness?” Whitney frowned and fanned her face. “Why the hell is it so hot in here?”

Mick cringed as Eddie chuckled and slapped him on the back. “Doctor Know-It-All fried the A/C. Too many plugs in one outlet.”

Whitney shot him a knowing glance. “Imagine that.”

Mick’s face grew warm with embarrassment. He offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

Whit shook her head. “So we have no living room, no dining room, and no air conditioning.”

“The kitchen is a mess. We have a lot of equipment and supplies stashed in there.” Mick avoided her annoyed frown.

“And one bathroom,” Eddie added reluctantly.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Your bathroom is stuffed with extra furniture and lamps and stuff.” Mick motioned toward Eddie. “The master bathroom between our rooms is open.”

“I don’t need to hear any more.” She held up her hands. “For what it's worth, I can tell you put a lot of hard work into this, even if it didn’t go exactly as planned. We can get this place whipped into shape in no time.” She assumed her naturally bossy tone. “You two can throw those boxes of flooring in Eddie’s truck, and I’ll exchange them while I’m at the store.”

“You’re going to Home Depot?” Mick asked, not at all thrown by her take-charge attitude. If there was one thing Whit did well, it was boss other people around.

“Well, I sure as hell am not going to roast in my bedroom all night. And I’ve had enough of hotel rooms. I want to sleep in my own bed. So until we can get an HVAC guy out here, I’ll enjoy the cold breeze of a window unit.”

Mick and Eddie did as she’d instructed and carried the boxes of flooring out to Eddie’s truck while Whitney impatiently tapped her foot.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Mick asked when they reconvened in the living room.

“No. You and Eddie get to stay here and clean up your mess because you’ve been very naughty boys.” She sauntered over to Eddie and brazenly slipped her hand inside the front pocket of his board shorts. A flicker of lust licked at Mick’s lower belly. His groin tightened at the sight of Whitney’s hand buried in Eddie’s pocket. An expression of shock and arousal flitted across Eddie’s face.

With a teasing smirk, Whitney produced the keys to Eddie’s truck. She took a step back and lowered her sunglasses into place. “Get a move on, boys. I expect to see this mess cleaned up by the time I get back-or else.”

Seemingly unaware of the raging hard-ons she’d just inspired, Whit flitted from the room and escaped out the front door. Eddie unleashed a loud groan and wiped a hand down his face. Somewhat envious of Whit’s hands-on approach, Mick decided to poke a little fun at his friend. “I thought you were going to come in your pants.”

With a grunt, Eddie headed into the dining room. “So the hell did I.”

Mick smiled and glanced toward the entryway. Something had just happened between the three of them. The dynamic was shifting and quite unexpectedly. Whitney was…different. More carefree and relaxed. What had happened in Miami and Paris?

Maybe this disaster of a renovation had a silver lining after all.

Eddie watched Whitney drive away in his truck. She looked good in the front seat with the windows down and the breeze ruffling her blonde hair. She always looked good, damned good. Too good.

She tempted Eddie in ways he hadn’t experienced in some time. Whit invaded his dreams, his thoughts. She’d ignited his lust and made him want to break rules he’d set after the whole Miranda fiasco.

And that wasn’t a good thing. It was a terrible thing. He’d put those rules into place to protect not only himself but Mick, too. Their friendship, their love for one another, had barely survived the hurt and pain of that messy affair. Eddie never wanted to go there again. He never wanted to experience that kind of raw anguish and disappointment.

So he stayed away from Whit.

Well. He tried.

He allowed himself the small pleasures of sharing breakfast or accompanying her on shopping trips. He liked cooking dinner with her and even folding laundry together on the couch. Enjoying her company was one thing. Taking it a step further, touching her, was another. That was the line he couldn’t cross.

The line she’d just crossed with her saucy pocket exploration.

His still-raging hard-on pressed against the uncomfortable confines of his boxer briefs. That wouldn’t fade anytime soon. Whit’s unexpected touch had nearly sent him into a full-blown orgasm. He felt like some horny teenager about to experience his first frustrating dance with pre-ejaculation. At thirty-six, that oh-god-not-now feeling was definitely an alien sensation and one he didn’t particularly like.

Eddie inhaled a deep and cleansing breath. Control. He needed to regain some control.

“She seems different.” Mick tapped Eddie’s shoulder with the screwdriver he’d dropped earlier. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Eddie took the screwdriver and headed for the stepladder. “She’s relaxed. Fun again.” He climbed a few steps and started tinkering with the ceiling fan. “Like she was when she first moved in here, before the stress of the new boss and the style-house merger and all that.”

Mick hummed in agreement and stepped up to help him support the weight of the fan. His hot chest pressed against Eddie’s arm, sparking another round of indecent thoughts. First Whit teasing him and now Mick. Was the torture ever going to end?

Eddie shifted to allow his friend more room. He snorted in amused disbelief as the stepladder rocked from the added weight. “You’d think a trauma surgeon could read the warning plastered on the side of this thing.”

“It’s not a long fall. Besides”-Mick playfully whacked Eddie’s backside-“you’ll likely fall flat on your ass anyway.”

“And take a ceiling fan to the face.”

“Nobody dates you for your face.”

Eddie guffawed at his friend’s zinger and resisted the urge to elbow him off the ladder. “Nice. Thanks.”

They worked in silence for a few moments. Aligning the tiny screws proved trickier than either had expected and took some grunting and cursing to get into place. They clambered off the stepladder and studied their work.

“Looks good,” Mick said with an approving nod. He cast a searching glance around the room. “What next?”

“You heard the woman. She wants this place clean when she gets back.” Eddie motioned toward the messy spots. “Just pick something, and get to work.”

“Yes, sir, Officer Dillon!” Mick snapped to attention as he barked a reply. “Right away, Officer Dillon, sir.”

“It’s Sergeant Dillon, smart-ass,” Eddie corrected. “And you could use a little discipline.”

A spark of interest flitted across Mick’s face. “Is that an offer?”

There was no mistaking the blatant flirtation in his question. A blaze of lust burned through Eddie’s belly. The sawhorses and rolls of tape littering the living room spawned dirty visions of hardcore loving, the kind of primal, pushing-the-boundaries sex he lived for.

“Whit could walk in that door any moment.” Eddie battled his raging desire. “She wouldn’t understand. She’d probably be scarred for life.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mick replied. “We mixed up our Kindles a few weeks ago, and let’s just say that girl has some interesting reading tastes. Threesomes, bondage, submission, violet wands, forced orgasms…” Mick shook his head. “One of those stories even had a pony-play scene.”

Eddie didn’t know how to respond. For the first time in his life, he was flabbergasted. Sweet, seemingly innocent Whitney had a secret hankering for kink.

It probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. He’d run into women in the local BDSM scene who worked as school librarians and even church secretaries. Sexual fantasies and fetishes had a funny way of leveling the playing ground, so to speak. In his experience, it was always the stiff, uptight, prudish types who liked the dirtiest, kinkiest stuff.

Of course, Whit wasn’t exactly a prude or stiff. She was modest, reserved. With her job in fashion, she always dressed impeccably and stylishly but never too revealing. A peek at her cleavage, a little leg, but never too much skin. In a way, that made Whitney even more appealing and sexy. There was a hint of mystery about her.

Just the suggestion Whit craved the kind of gentle discipline he liked to dole out made Eddie instantly hard. He cursed under his breath and frowned at Mick. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why? Because now you want her even more?” Mick wore a daring look. “You ever think maybe she wants us? I have a hard time believing she felt you up right here in our living room without any ulterior motive.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Eddie’s stomach soured with the thought. He slashed the air with his hand. “No. I’m not about to play with fire.”

His emotions jumbled, Eddie turned hard and stalked toward the dining room. He needed some space to think, to sort out his wants and needs from reality.

“Well, get out your fire extinguisher and stand on the sideline because I’m about to play.”

Eddie whipped around at Mick’s parting shot. He clipped the side of a sawhorse and caught his foot in a length of extension cord. Try as he might, there was no averting the impending fall. Like some damned knight in shining armor, Mick jumped forward to steady him but just made things worse. Mick tripped over the suddenly taut extension cord. His fumbled grab threw their combined weight against the sawhorse. In a tangle of arms and legs, they slammed into the floor. A split second later, the teetering sawhorse dumped the open gallon of paint on their twisted forms.

“For fuck’s sake,” Eddie growled, eyes shut as paint dribbled onto his head. The cool, wet liquid slithered along his forehead and followed the curve of his face. It pooled along his ear, prompting him to shake his head wildly like a wet dog.

“Hey!” Mick yelped. “You’re getting paint on my face.”

Eddie cracked an eye to survey the damage. Mick’s back, shoulders, and arms were coated in sage green. His head and face had been spared except for the spatter of Eddie’s castoff.

As the initial shock of their fall and the ensuing paint bath passed, Eddie became acutely aware of their precarious position. Mick straddled his thighs with one hand planted next to Eddie’s head for support. His sweat-slicked, naked chest looked like something off of a romance novel cover. The weight of Mick’s body pressing down on his provoked memories of their bedroom antics. In his perpetually aroused state, it didn’t take much for Eddie to regain the full stiffness of an erection.

“Well, well, well…” Mick grinned and gave his hips a rock. The loose fabric of his shorts did little to hide Mick’s raging erection. Their cocks bumped together clumsily. Mick’s second swaying movement was more controlled, more precise.

Eddie hissed at the contact and wished the fabric separating their bodies would disappear. His control wore thin. The sensation of Mick’s encouraging hip movements was too much. He grasped the back of Mick’s head and drew him down for a hard kiss. Mick played hard to get, resisting Eddie’s gentle downward tug. He nipped Eddie’s lower lip. “Shower?”

“Hell yes.”