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  Henri sipped his coffee, eyeing her without speaking. She glanced at him once, then stepped over to Ryan. Something was making her head spin so she gripped the chair. The worry in Ryan’s eyes just pissed her off more.

  "Look, asshole, I don’t need your fake sympathy, your presents, your gracious bestowal of a high priced hotel suite. God damn it Ryan, I need you. How many times do I have to say it?" Tears sprang to eyes but she wiped them away.

  "Grace, honey, I," before she knew what was happening she slapped him, hard. Her hand stung, but she did it again. She gasped as his face reddened. Neither of them moved. Then her grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips.

  "God, honey, I'm sorry. I have to though, it’s," She yanked her stinging palm from his lips.

  "Don’t honey me. Just leave. Like you always do." She whirled on Henri who sat, legs crossed, a small smile playing over his dark face. "And you, you go on and be the celebrity. It’s what I’m sure you’re best at—being the center of all the fucking attention. Gah!"

  Ignoring the nausea rising in her gut, she threw up her hands and pulled her suitcase from the closet.

  "I’m going home today."

  "Do whatever you want," Ryan called from the front door. "I’ll call you from the air."

  Grace ignored him, blinded by tears of frustration as she threw her clothes back into the suitcase while Henri watched, worry creasing his forehead. The solid snick of the elevator doors closing behind her husband sounded like a death knell to Grace. She sank to the floor, leaning on the bed, letting sobs rack her body.

  "No!" She shouted when Henri tried to comfort her. "Go. Just leave me alone." She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two and a half weeks later...

  "I’ll be in by seven." Ryan set aside his phone hoping Grace and Henri got his text. He wondered if they were even interested in seeing him. He'd effectively ignored them both for the better part of three weeks. The South American project was in shambles. Graft and corruption riddled the Sao Paulo landscape and contractors and sub contractors were all in cahoots to screw the investors via bribery demands that seemed to come nonstop. Ryan got things back on track and hired a local to supervise promising him an astounding bonus if the project came in on time and under budget.

  His throat was tight as he rode the limo in from the airport, the familiar outlines of the Aria, a second home to him now, rising into view. The lobby was full as Ryan strode through, not stopping to chat with anyone as staff members scattered out of his way, familiar with the stormy look on his face that signaled ass chewing's if he was interrupted. His penthouse suite was completely dark when the elevator doors parted. Anger and disappointment surged in Ryan’s gut. They weren’t even here.

  The swish of a match being lit to his left and the sizzle of a large candlewick startled him. He smiled.

  "Welcome home, Ryan," Grace’s voice was near his other ear, the sound of her pouring relief over his soul. He let her take his hand. "We have something for you."

  Henri followed and put the candle on the bedside table as Grace put her lips over Ryan’s and he melted into her, moaning at the simple touch, more relieved than he wanted to admit that they were even talking to him, much less kissing him. He felt Henri’s lips on his neck, his hands unbuttoning his shirt. Keeping his lips on Grace's, he let Henri undress him, pulling off his shoes, socks, and unbuckling his belt and slipping his trousers down and off.

  Suppressing a small thrill of panic, he muttered against Grace’s lips.

  "What’s all this?"

  "Shhh," she whispered. "No talking."

  Ryan felt his always-in-control self, balk and he shifted as he sensed Grace settle between his legs. His cock was painfully stiff. He’d not gone without sex for nearly three weeks in a long time, having had either Grace or Henri nearby. But he'd even denied himself masturbation while he was gone this time. Part of him too exhausted by the end of each sweltering, frustrating day in Brazil to consider it, the other part punishing himself for leaving them so soon after they'd discovered each other that night in Vegas.

  He’d resisted his usual impulse to buy things, to shower them both with ridiculous and expensive gifts. It was time he owned up and got real. Just like they’d both said. Open up, let himself feel, really feel, risk getting hurt. He was at risk of losing them both if he didn’t. The time he’d spent alone in the Brazilian hotel room staring at the ceiling, drinking beer, trying to come to terms with his shortcomings had brought on a serious bought of self-awareness. It was, in a word, terrifying. But he was willing to go there, if the people he loved required it of him. He was eager to share, but was already feeling overwhelmed by their greeting.

  He felt himself flex and get even harder as Grace swallowed him. Then Henri was at his side using his fingers to press against the base of Ryan’s cock. Someone cradled his balls. Someone else pressed into his perineum, sending a coil of desire springing through his brain. But wait, this was wrong, he was supposed to be the giver here. Ryan mumbled as he felt the tip of his cock touch the back of Grace’s throat again. Lips lapped at his erect nipple and Ryan fought against the thought that it was all too much. He shouldn’t be giving in like this.

  Reaching out to touch Henri’s cock, he gasped when the lips on his nipple bit down.

  "Ow, dammit."

  "We’re doing the touching. You’re going to give in to us tonight, Ryan. Just lay back and enjoy it."

  Grace kept her exquisite suction on his shaft as Henri’s lips sucked and pulled at his nipple and kept pressure against the base of his cock, the circle of thumb and forefinger like a fleshy cock ring.

  Ryan gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar sensation of blood pounding in his ears and flushing his skin a deep red that signaled the coming of a monster orgasm.

  "No, I can’t," he muttered.

  Grace released his cock and moved down to suck one his balls into her mouth, tugging at his core as Henri’s ring of fingers moved up to tease his head. Encircling it, using just enough pressure as Grace moaned when his balls contracted between her lips. At the last moment, Henri pinched Ryan's swollen erection and silenced his lover with a slice of exquisite pain.

  "Please, I . . . I just want to, oh God.” Ryan fell back onto his elbows and let his head hang back, his entire body on fire with both a need for release and a desire to maintain control. The twin monsters of his entire soul fought as bright lights started shooting across his vision. Ryan wanted to bring the pleasure to each of them. He didn’t deserve this. They deserved more from him.

  Henri lowered his lips to the tip of Ryan's cock and sucked hard. Grace put a fingertip against the flesh between his balls and anus. Blood boomed in his ears as he fisted a hand in Henri’s hair and fucked his beautiful mouth. Hips thrusting, he grunted with the effort of not coming. He wouldn’t do this, he’d hold back, pull them off, and bury his face in Grace’s delicious pussy while she sucked Henri’s cock. He wouldn't be the one to release first. He just couldn’t.

  In an instant, Grace was beside him, whispering in his ear while licking at his lips in an attempt to comfort him.

  "Fall, Ryan," she said. Ryan groaned as Henri swallowed him. "Let us catch you. We love you. It’s okay.” She licked at his lips before moving back down to his chest and picking up where Henri left off there. "Just,” her amazing mouth tugged at his tender flesh, triggering stars behind his eyes as he desperately tried to control his climax. "Let,” Ryan gasped as the orgasm roared through him at her words. “Go. Let go, Ryan. Now.” She demanded and shifted back down between his legs, using a saliva lubricated fingertip to press into his anus and stroke his prostate.

  The cry from Ryan’s lips rent the air as he exploded down Henri’s throat. His hips kept thrusting as his vision blurred then cleared, then blurred again, this time with tears. He fell backwards onto the bed, his hand over his eyes. For the first time in Ryan's life he truly felt safe. The people he loved cradled him between
their bodies.

  ****

  The next several weeks passed in a haze of sex, sun and relaxation for the three of them. Early May was the perfect time of year to be in Sin City. The highs never hit above eighty and they spent hours draped around the saltwater pool, sipping gin and tonics or cucumber infused ice water. Grace was well into fifty thousand words on her new novel but something about it wasn’t humming. Usually by now she’d have been double that. It was disturbing but Ryan and Henri were pleasing distractions so she put it aside and read by the pool most days instead of composing.

  Ryan spent several hours a day on his computer or on the phone with various clients. Henri was busy with the restaurant most evenings. And Grace made it a point to hit every popular show she hadn’t seen plus a few of her favorites more than once.

  There were tense moments between them but once Grace convinced the two of them that they didn’t have to sneak around to fuck; when they did that, it really made her mad, in fact, it seemed to help. She truly did love watching them, the majestic beauty of their bodies moving together put on the most erotic show she’d ever seen.

  But a rising cloud of worry overtook her by the third week made all the more stressful by the fact she was certain she was pregnant. Programmed by long years of devotion to a man who’d made her promise not to ask him, not to even suggest that he should father her child, Grace lay awake several nights, Ryan between her and Henri, cradling them both on either side. One night she felt eyes on her as she gazed across her husband’s chest.

  Henri’s deep chocolate stare made tears spring to her eyes. He reached over Ryan’s body and took her hand, twining her fingers in his. She sensed he knew and took comfort in the fact they’d figure out a way to tell Ryan together.

  ****

  The last morning they were together before Grace was due in LA for initial casting calls started inauspiciously. She had slept very little, her whole body seemed weighed down as she sat in the chair, laptop open well into the wee hours of the morning, her men snoring away nearby. They’d shared an amazing night to be sure. She loved watching the two of them, and once Ryan came inside Henri, the young man turned to her and used his tongue and lips to bring her to screaming climax. She’d been on her knees, straddling his face, gripping the back of the headboard while Ryan sucked Henri’s thick cock. Amazing. The stuff of any woman’s fantasy for certain.

  Grace sighed and grimaced in pain. A shooting sensation, as if someone were poking her in the side right at her ovary, had been persistent for the last couple of days. Grace figured it was her body adjusting. It was becoming harder to hold back from just blurting it all out to Ryan. But, Henri convinced her they should do it together, tonight, and that it would all be fine. How the man was so blind to basic pregnancy symptoms, like the fact she’d stopped joining them for cocktails, was beyond her. Perhaps he was being stubborn and ignoring the obvious on purpose.

  By nine a.m. the men still hadn’t stirred. Grace did her usual morning puke, had a shower and was craving chocolate and coffee all at once. Pulling on her shoes, she stumbled a little when the shooting pain made her bend double in the foyer.

  "Ow! Christ."

  Ryan mumbled and rolled over. Henri sat straight up and was at her side.

  "You ok?"

  "Yeah, I’m fine. Just sick of feeling sick. And hungry at the same time." She glanced over at Ryan. "You ready for this?"

  Henri cradled her a moment, kissing her lips tenderly.

  "More than ready. As a matter of fact, Mr. Sullivan and I are going to have a little chat in a few minutes when I wake his lazy ass up. You go on, we’ll catch up."

  She stared at him.

  "But you said, I mean, we were gonna, ow." She groaned and held her side.

  Henri’s dark eyes were full of worry. "I don’t think it’s supposed to hurt there or that much."

  She brushed him off. "Look, you break it to him. That’s fine. I gotta get some air."

  She escaped, her heart pounding and gut churning, thankful to use Henri as a buffer to what was destined to be a colossally bad scene.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Hey, blondie," Henri poked Ryan’s shoulder.

  His lover rolled onto his back, arm over his eyes. Henri eyed the impressive mound under the thin sheet but shook his head. This morning, this man had to stop pretending that the woman he loved wasn't pregnant. He'd had ample opportunity to figure it out on his own and Henri was sick of the whole thing. And worried about Grace. But mostly he was pissed that the man he loved insisted on being so fucking obtuse.

  "Get up. We need to talk."

  Ryan groaned and rubbed his eyes. The fierce blue of them always made Henri catch his breath but today he was on a mission.

  "No conversation ends well that starts with ‘we have to talk.’"

  "I just think it’s time for you to stop ignoring your wife."

  "What? What the hell? How am I ignoring her? Jesus, we all fuck like rabbits every night. She never goes without. I’ve taken to her to every God damned show and concert on the strip, some of them twice, and increased my credit card limit so she can shop more. How do you figure that’s ignoring her?"

  Henri maintained his temper.

  "You're blind, aren’t you? You can’t even see that none of that shit matters to her. Let’s start with this. How long ago can you remember her taking a drink of alcohol, hmmm? How about every morning she throws up until she has dark circles under eyes? And that appetite? My God, Ryan. I’ve never seen anyone eat like that."

  Ryan’s brow furrowed. He threw off the sheet and swung his feet down to the floor and Henri watched his shoulders tense. The tall, blond man, the love of Henri’s life so help him, stood and whirled around to face him.

  "Oh, shit," he sputtered, his eyes wild with realization. "You don’t think…"

  "Give the man a medal!" Henri sank into the chair. "I could tell by her scent, her taste, something is new about her, different. And I’m not the one who’s been smelling and tasting her for nearly six years." Henri leveled a look at Ryan as he fell into the chair opposite and dropped his head into his hands.

  "Ryan," Henri whispered. "Ryan. It’s okay." He put a hand on the man’s shoulder but Ryan didn’t look up. Henri pursed his lips and stalked over to the elevator, leaving him to stew in his own juices for a while. Henri felt and heard Ryan’s howl of anger and frustration as the doors slid shut.

  ****

  As the elevator hummed its way downward, Henri did his own mental calculation. From his houseful of sisters and the woman he'd been married to long enough to realize she was psychotic and get her pregnant twice, Henri realized right about now was when Grace should have stopped being sick as a dog. He also remembered in his gut that the night they met at the party, he’d fucked her in a fit of pique and lust, coming inside her without protection or restraint.

  Henri’s ex-wife aborted their first child, against his wishes, which set their ultimate parting in motion. A wild night of too much wine, fighting and sex about three months later as he tried to hold their relationship together had led to his beloved Renee, the young girl who had her father’s dark looks and mild temperament but whose mother kept as far from Henri as she could. He saw her twice a year now and she was nearly ten years old. Henri sighed. He loved children and frankly, the thought that he might've gotten Grace pregnant didn’t freak him out at all. It made him flush red with anticipation and residual anger at Ryan.

  Henri knew how hard Ryan worked to be a good man. His shitty background had to be tough to overcome and Henri was glad Ryan had finally let Grace in on the secrets of his heart. But, his incredible stubbornness and tendency to shut down and cut her off when things got complicated was going to be his downfall if he wasn’t careful.

  Henri had always been partial to men, even though he loved women and adored his ex wife at one time. Loving them both came naturally. It wasn’t as easy for Ryan and Grace but Henri was determined to make their relationship work. He knew they could have a
n amazing life together if everyone actually tried.

  Strolling through the massive, understated lobby of the Aria, Henri saw Grace hunched over a cup of shitty chain-store coffee and smiled. This he could fix with food. He put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump and spill the cardboard container full of hot liquid all over the table. Henri glanced at one of the hovering staff members as they swooped in to mop up the mess and pulled Grace to her feet. She collapsed against him, sobbing, clutching at his shirt.

  "Shhh…" Henri rubbed her back and tilted her face up to his. "It’s okay." He kissed her softly then pulled her head back to his shoulder and sighed. She felt so incredibly right in his arms Henri felt his heart stutter in his chest. He couldn’t imagine his life now without Ryan and Grace in it.

  He turned, keeping an arm around her shoulders, and guided her back past the lobby and the bland stares of the staff to the darkened cavern that in a few hours would be one of the hottest places to eat on the Strip. The prep crew was already hard at work getting ready for another night in a Vegas celebrity chef restaurant. Henri pushed the kitchen door open and guided Grace onto a stool at a long, stainless steel counter.

  Nodding and chatting in Spanish with the early staff, he pulled down a cast iron pan, fired up one of the twenty large gas burners, threw in some real butter and grabbed eggs from a bowl on the side counter. The loud chatter around them bubbled up and filled the space as he broke the eggs into the pan, tossed the shells in the large composting container and pulled feta cheese, tomatoes and chives into his workspace. Glancing over to wink at Grace, who had her chin resting on her hand, dark circles under both eyes, he let himself be soothed by the rhythm of the kitchen.