Page 22 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Nisha

The pattern on my screen blurred as I leaned in closer, squinting at the intricate details that still weren't quite right. My latest textile design for a client’s spring collection needed something—more movement in the outer rings, perhaps, or bolder contrast in the center spokes.

I'd been staring at it for three hours straight, my coffee long cold beside my tablet, the December rain pattering against my office window providing a soothing backdrop to my creative frustration. One more adjustment to the color gradient, then maybe—

A soft knock interrupted my concentration, gentle but confident. I didn't look up immediately, assuming it was my assistant with the fabric swatches I'd requested.

"Come in,"

I called, fingers still manipulating the digital color wheel.

"Surprise!"

My head snapped up at that voice—that rich, cultured British accent that had whispered filthy promises in my ear countless times over video calls and short visits these past months. But he wasn’t due back in town for weeks.

Caleb stood in my doorway, rain droplets glistening in his blond hair, that devastating smile crinkling the corners of his green eyes. He wore a charcoal peacoat over a cream sweater, looking every bit the posh hotel consultant even in casual clothes.

"Caleb!"

I launched myself across the small office, nearly knocking over my chair in my haste. He caught me against his chest, strong arms enveloping me as I crashed my mouth against his.

I felt his smile against my lips before he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine with delicious familiarity. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him as my fingers tangled in his damp hair. He tasted like mint and coffee and longing, and I devoured him like I was starving.

When we finally broke apart, both breathless, he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I take it you're pleased to see me?"

"What are you doing here?"

I asked, my hands still framing his face, unwilling to let him go in case he might disappear.

"You weren't supposed to fly in until next week."

He kissed me again, slower this time, letting me feel the careful drag of teeth on my lower lip, the teasing flick of tongue that made my knees weak.

"Layover in Portland. My flight to San Francisco got delayed, so I have about six hours to kill."

"And you came straight here?"

Something warm bloomed in my chest, spreading outward.

"Julian tried to call earlier, but you were in a meeting,"

he said, thumbs tracing small circles on my hipbones.

"So I had lunch with him, then he sent me here to see you. He said you’d be furious if I didn’t."

I laughed, shaking my head.

"That meeting was awful. I would have skipped it if I’d known."

"It worked out. We may have done a bit of Christmas shopping,"

he continued, that mischievous glint in his eyes I'd come to adore.

"Found something perfect for you."

"Did you now?"

I arched an eyebrow.

"Your husband has… adventurous taste."

I felt a flush creep up my neck, remembering exactly how adventurous Julian could be—especially when Caleb was involved. Since that first weekend at the hotel, the three of us had fallen into something that defied simple labels. Caleb called us regularly and had come into town a half dozen times. We’d even met him in London twice, but it never felt like we had enough time with him.

"So,"

Caleb said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I was thinking it's your turn now."

"My turn?"

"To shop for Julian."

His fingers trailed down my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Since I've already helped him find something for you. Only fair, isn't it?"

I glanced at my computer screen, the unfinished design suddenly insignificant compared to the man standing before me.

"I can't believe it's almost Christmas,"

I said, surprised by the wistfulness in my voice.

"When we started this last summer, I never thought..."

"That I'd still be hanging around?"

There was vulnerability in his teasing tone.

"That I'd be counting the days until seeing you,"

I corrected, rising on tiptoes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"That I'd miss you this much when you're gone."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, followed by a soft wonder that made my heart stutter.

"I miss you too. Both of you. It's getting harder to leave each time.”

The confession hung between us, loaded with implications neither of us was quite ready to voice. Instead, I stepped back, reaching for my purse and coat.

"Well, we've got six hours, and I know exactly where to shop,"

I said, trying to lighten the moment.

"Nordstrom has some watches Julian's been eyeing."

Caleb helped me into my coat, his hands lingering on my shoulders.

"Lead the way, darling. Julian is going to pick us up in three hours for dinner, then you’ll give me a ride back to the airport.”

We left my office standing a little ways apart, though there was nothing I wanted more than to hold his hand. The elevator ride down was silent, and he reached out to grab my hand, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm, my head resting against his shoulder. Outside, the December rain had slowed to a gentle mist that kissed our faces as we walked the six blocks to the department store.

"I like your city in the winter,"

Caleb said, his breath forming small clouds in the chilly air.

"All moody skies and cozy interiors."

"Says the man from London,"

I teased, leaning into his side.

“Talk about moody weather.”

"True. But your coffee is better."

We fell into easy conversation as we walked, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist. He told me about his latest hotel project, I updated him on my sister's pregnancy, and for those few blocks, it felt normal—like we were any couple out Christmas shopping, rather than two-thirds of something far more complex.

When Nordstrom's grand entrance came into view, its holiday decorations twinkling against the gray afternoon, Caleb pulled me closer for a quick kiss.

"Ready to spoil your husband rotten?" he asked.

"Ours,"

I corrected without thinking, then froze, shocked at my own words.

Caleb's eyes widened, then a slow smile spread across his face—not mocking, not alarmed, but filled with something that looked suspiciously like hope.

"Ours,"

he repeated.

"Fuck, why does the impossible have to sound so perfect?"

I kissed him on the cheek, smiling.

“Maybe it’s not impossible.”

My heart pounding, I led him through the revolving doors, into the bright warmth of holiday commerce and possibility.

The watch gleamed under the display case lights, its elegant chronograph face nestled against black velvet. I watched Caleb's long fingers tap thoughtfully on the glass as he considered it, his reflection showing the same contemplative expression Julian wore when making important decisions. The similarity between my two men sometimes caught me off guard—not in their appearances, but in the small mannerisms they shared, the quiet intensity they both brought to even simple tasks like selecting a Christmas gift.

"This one,"

I said, pointing to the Swiss timepiece with the sapphire-blue face.

"It's his style—understated but exceptional."

Caleb's eyes crinkled at the corners.

"You know him well."

"So do you,"

I countered, nudging his shoulder.

"Don't pretend you didn't immediately eliminate that gaudy gold one."

"That was for my own dignity. I couldn’t be seen with a man wearing that,"

he laughed, catching the saleswoman's attention with a discreet gesture.

"Julian would sooner wear a plastic Swatch than something that ostentatious."

As the saleswoman removed the watch from the display, Caleb slipped his arm around my waist, his lips brushing my ear.

"You're damn sexy today.”

His hand slid lower to squeeze my ass when the saleswoman turned away.

After completing the purchase—Caleb insisting on splitting the cost—we wandered through the store's festive aisles. Holiday music drifted through the air, mixing with the scent of pine and cinnamon from some nearby display. His hand remained at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowds of shoppers.

As we walked, I wondered what I’d say if someone we knew saw us. Would they think I was cheating on Julian? I wondered if there would ever be a time when we could be like my friend Lila, who was in a triad. What would it be like to be open and public about our relationship?

"Where to next?"

he asked as we passed the jewelry section.

"Home to wrap this so Julian doesn’t see it?"

I checked my watch—still two hours until Julian would pick us up.

"Actually,"

I said, steering us toward the escalator.

"I had something else in mind."

His eyebrow arched, curiosity mixed with anticipation. "Do tell."

"Second floor. Intimate apparel."

His pupils dilated, darkening those green eyes to forest shadows.

"Lead the way."

The lingerie department was quiet midday. I browsed through the racks of delicate fabrics, aware of Caleb watching my every move, his gaze heavy with promise.

"What do you think?"

I held up a black lace bodysuit with strategically placed cutouts.

"Would you and Julian enjoy unwrapping me in this on Christmas morning?"

Caleb's tongue darted out to wet his lips, a gesture that never failed to make my core clench with want.

"I think,"

he said, voice dropped to that low register that meant trouble.

"you should try it on. For quality control purposes."

"Is that so?"

I selected my size and a deep emerald green set that matched his eyes.

"And will you be providing your expert opinion?"

He took a step closer, fingers brushing mine as he reached for the hangers.

"I insist."

The saleswoman directed us to the fitting rooms, her knowing smile suggesting we weren't the first couple with intentions beyond simple shopping. Caleb waited outside while I entered the luxurious cubicle, larger than most, with a plush bench along one wall and multiple mirrors that would offer views from every angle.

He slipped inside, locking the door behind him before turning to watch me with predatory focus. I removed my coat slowly, then my blouse, letting each button slip free with deliberate precision.

"You're torturing me,"

he observed, settling onto the bench, legs spread, the growing bulge in his jeans impossible to miss.

"That's the point,"

I replied, unzipping my skirt and letting it pool at my feet.

I stood before him in just my everyday underwear—simple black cotton, nothing fancy—but the hunger in his gaze made me feel like I was wearing the finest La Perla. His hands clenched on his thighs, restraining himself from touching me.

"The green or the black?"

I asked, fingertips teasing the edge of my bra strap.

"Green,"

he decided.

"Though I doubt you'll be wearing it long enough to matter."

I turned away, feeling his eyes burning into my back as I unhooked my bra and slipped on the emerald lace. The matching thong followed, the delicate fabric a whisper against my already slick folds. When I faced him again, his composure had visibly fractured.

"Christ,"

he breathed.

"You're a fucking fantasy."

"Your fantasy?"

I stepped between his spread legs, my hands settling on his shoulders.

His fingers slid up my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Mine. Julian's. Ours."

“There’s that word again.”

I straddled him then, the thin lace of the thong rubbing against his clothed erection. His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear that made me whimper.

"Quiet,"

he admonished, one hand sliding up to cup my breast through the lace.

"Unless you want the entire ladies' department hearing what a desperate little slut you are for me."

His crude words sent liquid heat rushing between my legs. This was Caleb at his most dominant—the proper British exterior giving way to filthy demands and possessive touches. I rocked against him, creating delicious friction that had us both breathing harder.

"Need you,"

I whispered, fingers fumbling with his belt. "Now."

He helped me, unfastening his trousers with practiced efficiency. His cock sprang free, already leaking at the tip.

I stroked him.

"I want Julian to taste you inside me later. Want him to know I'm yours too."

His control shattered. With a low growl, he yanked the delicate thong aside and thrust up into me in one powerful stroke. I gasped at the sensation—the stretch, the fullness, the intimacy of having him alone like this. He was so big, made me feel so deliciously full, that I could sit here like this, in his lap, just staring down into his gorgeous eyes for ages.

"Fuck,"

he hissed, fingers digging into my hips.

"You feel perfect. So tight, so wet for me."

Outside, I could hear the sales clerk leading someone else to a dressing room, and I buried my face against his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound. But I couldn’t stop myself from moving, I needed the friction of his cock sliding into me far too much. Soon I was rising and falling on his cock with increasing urgency, impaling myself on him again and again. His mouth found mine, swallowing my moans as he guided my movements, setting a punishing pace that had me seeing stars.

"That's it,"

he encouraged, one hand sliding between us to find my clit, sending pleasure coursing to every nerve ending.

"Take what you need. Show me how much you've missed me."

I rode him frantically, chasing the pleasure that built with each thrust. The knowledge that he would come inside me, that I would carry part of him with me until I could share it with Julian—it pushed me toward the edge faster than I expected.

"Close,"

I gasped against his mouth.

"So close."

"Come for me,"

he demanded, thumb circling my clit with merciless precision.

"Let me feel you come on my cock."

My orgasm crashed through me without warning, inner walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I bit his shoulder to muffle my cries, the taste of expensive wool and salt filling my mouth.

He followed me over, his cock swelling and pulsing deep inside me, triggering aftershocks of my orgasm. I felt each pulse as he emptied himself inside me, his face buried in my neck, breath hot against my skin.

For several long moments, we clung to each other, heartbeats slowing. When he finally looked up, his eyes held a tenderness that made my throat tight.

"Was that..." he began.

"Perfect,"

I finished for him, pressing my forehead to his.

"And I'd better buy this lingerie. We made a mess of it."

His laugh, soft and intimate, vibrated through both our bodies.

"Besides, you look beautiful in it. Best Christmas shopping trip ever."

He tugged off the tag.

“We’ll tell her you decided to wear it home.”