Page 2

Chapter Two

Dean

M y wife, Polly, dangles a set of keys in front of me.

I sigh, sliding my hands into the pockets of my khakis.

Our kids are back at the hotel with the nanny.

Polly asked me to bring her for a walk on the beach, but we’ve stopped in front of this modern, ocean-front property, complete with infinity pool and wall-to-wall windows.

Now, she’s handing me keys with an odd look on her face.

A cat-who-caught-the-canary type of look.

Jesus. I wouldn’t be surprised if she bought this place without asking. Wouldn’t be the first time. Wasn’t it just last year we became the owners of an Italian villa?

“What is this?” I drawl. “You like California enough to buy a vacation home here?”

“No,” she responds in an extra-sweet tone. “Not exactly.”

“Why are you being mysterious?”

Before she has a chance to answer me, I see them. Polly’s best friend, Molly, and her asshole husband, Cameron. AKA my ex-best friend.

“What the fuck are they doing here?” I snap.

“They’re on vacation with us, Dean.”

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“No, you didn’t, did you?” Polly sighs, turning her head to exchange an eyeroll with redheaded Molly. “He’s already being difficult.”

“Not for long!” sings Molly.

But I’ve stopped listening to the women chatter.

I’m too busy keeping an eye on Cameron, that motherfucker.

Shifty little punk. I’ve tried my hardest to put this hatred of my ex-best friend to bed, but every damn thing about him pisses me off.

And I’m ashamed to say that every time I look at Cameron, I see him through her eyes.

Her. Ruby Lang.

Did she like him more than me?

If given the chance, if we’d taken our mutual obsession with the tutor further, who would she have chosen? I hate how much it plagues me. It’s wrong. This fire I still have in my belly for the bookish blonde makes me a horrible husband and father.

It’s not a secret that Polly and I married for convenience. Money. Pedigree.

Molly and Cameron did the same. These are not grand love affairs.

They are respectable matches.

Still, I’m not a philanderer. I don’t have a roving eye. I’m a good man.

But to this day, I get uncontrollably hard when I think about Ruby Lang.

I spank it to her memory more often than I’m comfortable admitting, considering I never even laid a finger on her.

Neither did Cameron. She was the utmost professional, reminding us we were in relationships whenever things got… tense.

There was no hiding her refreshing nature, though. Her innocence.

Her angelic beauty.

Cameron is looking at me with a scowl on his face—and I can tell he’s thinking about her, too. He thinks about Ruby as often as I do, and that never fails to enrage me.

Especially after what he did.

“Are you two paying attention?” Molly snaps, waving a hand in front of our faces. “We just told you, this is where you’ll be living for the next few days.”

“Together,” sings Polly. “We’ll be at the hotel getting pampered, instead of trying to enjoy ourselves in the midst of your ridiculous feud.”

Cameron speaks for the first time. “I’m not staying here with him.”

“Yes, you are, honey,” Molly says. “And trust me, you’ll do it happily.”

“Have you both lost your minds?” I demand to know, ready to chuck the keys into the Pacific. “I’m done here.”

Polly catches my elbow before I can storm off. “But you haven’t heard the best part. You’ll have a houseguest. Someone you might remember from senior year.” My wife cups a hand around her mouth, raising her voice to call, “Come on out, Ruby!”

Every muscle in my body tenses.

This must be some kind of joke.

No fucking way this is happening.

But it is.

Out walks Ruby Lang, exactly as I remember her. Long blonde hair, a simple blue headband. A short, white dress with a collar. High socks. Wringing her hands the way she always used to do when we fought over where she’d sit in the library. Beside me or beside Cameron.

My cock expands, stiffening to the point of near eruption, testing the fly of my khakis. I untuck my shirt as quickly as possible to hide the obscene reaction, but my wife sees it and giggles. What the hell?

“It’s okay, Dean,” she murmurs, already checking her watch. “For the next three days, you’re free.”

“ Free? ” I choke out.

Molly squeezes her husband’s shoulder. “You, too, Cameron. Ruby is yours to play with for the next seventy-two hours.”

Cameron

I don’t believe what I’m hearing.

Or seeing.

This girl, who still haunts my daydreams, is standing ten yards away.

Ruby is yours to play with for the next three days.

I’m sorry, what? I’ve only been married for six years, but I’ve been married long enough to know this feels like a trick.

Except, Ruby wouldn’t participate in something like that.

She’s not the type. She’s more principled than any of us.

Toward the end of our association back at Yale, Dean and I were both so desperate to fuck her, we were having Tiffany jewelry and half the Chanel runway delivered to her dorm.

She returned all of it. Every last piece.

“She didn’t agree to this,” I say, shaking my head. “Not a chance.”

“Quit talking like you know her so well,” Dean growls.

“I do,” I respond, rounding on him. “I…did.”

“You wanted to know her even better,” he steps closer and says under his breath. For my ears alone. “Remember that afternoon when you took it too far? Don’t make me remind you.”

Fire climbs the back of my neck and I shove him hard in the chest. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? I saw what you almost got away with.” He looks past me, to Ruby, and I can see the lust building in his eyes. The way it always did. “She deserved better than you.”

“Better than me? At least she and I have the arts in common. You were just a knuckle-dragging football player. Still are. You just wear a suit now, instead of a uniform.”

He scoffs. “You wish you could have worn a uniform—”

“Enough!” Polly steps between us, placing a palm on both of our chests. “Thank you for both proving our point. You have some unresolved issues with Ruby. She has kindly agreed to let you work them out over the next few days, so we can all move on and live in peace. As friends , like we used to be.”

“Why would she do this?” I ask, still drowning in a sea of shock.

My wife is putting me up in a house for three days with Ruby Lang?

“Why else would she do this, dear?” Molly responds, rubbing her thumb and index finger together. “Because she needs cash. Good thing we have that in abundance, right?”

“Think of her as a gift,” Polly says, shrugging. “A shared gift.”

“I don’t know,” Dean says, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t trust this whole thing. Seems like a trick.”

“We anticipated that,” Molly says, taking her phone out and hitting record.

She moves to stand beside Polly and they both smile into the camera.

“We, Polly Carmichael and Molly Jones, do hereby give our husbands permission to engage in consensual adult activities, including but not limited to sexual intercourse, with Ruby Lang for the duration of three days.”

Still filming, they wave to Ruby, gesturing for her to come closer.

Chewing her lip a moment, our former tutor does what they ask, stepping down off the deck and crossing the sand, her long hair blowing in the ocean breeze, her sugary-sweet scent that I remember so well filling my nostrils.

The wind tosses the pleated hem of her dress around her tan thighs, plastering the garment to the same body that kept me permanently horny for the final semester of my senior year.

Now it’s my turn to untuck my shirt to cover my erection.

“Ruby, give each of our husbands a welcome kiss. We’re going to film you, just for our private records, so they won’t worry we’re going to extort them later.”

Kiss Ruby Lang?

I was never given the chance. It’s going to happen…now? In front of my wife?

“Are you sure about this?” Dean asks Polly.

“Yes. We’re both totally sure.” Polly brushes a hand down Ruby’s hair, then lower, trailing her hand down to Ruby’s bottom, tracing the tight curve. “If anything, we commend both of you for having excellent taste.”

Dean and I are frozen after watching Polly touch Ruby’s beautiful ass.

If he’s in any similar state to me, he’s trying not to unload in his pants.

“I’ll go first,” Dean rasps, taking Ruby’s wrist.

“Fuck that,” I say automatically, shouldering myself between them. “Let her choose.”

“I can’t,” Ruby whispers, blinking her cornflower blue eyes up at me. “Don’t make me pick between the two of you, Cameron. Everything we do together has to be fair or these three days will be for nothing.”

Oh God, just hearing her say my name is causing my entire body to pulse. Memories are rushing back to me in a stampede. And as always, I am plagued by the instinct to take her in my arms and shield her from the world. “So, it’s true. You agreed to do this?”

She nods, whispering, “Yes.”

“Just because you need the money?”

Dean comes up behind Ruby, sliding his hands around her waist, smoothing them down over her hips. Tugging her back into his body, while I step forward to keep her close, leaving our once-tutor sandwiched between us.

“Or have you always wondered what it would have felt like to give in?” Dean asks.

Ruby’s head falls back against Dean’s chest. “I’ve wondered,” she says, so lightly, the breeze almost carries her words away before I can hear them.

Reel from them.

“Good lord, their chemistry…” Polly murmurs, awed. “How about this? Just so we don’t have any fighting, me and Molly get to decide who gets to kiss her first? We’ll plan out the whole three days, in fact. That way, we’ll avoid any arguments about fairness.”

Molly uh-huhs. “What we say, goes.”

“Fine,” I grit out, the curve of my erection brushing Ruby’s stomach. “Choose.”

“I volunteer Cameron to go first,” Molly says, with a snicker. “Don’t worry, Dean. Whatever activity we decide on next, you’ll be first in line.”

Ruby tips her head back to look at me, wetting her lips, and I’m mesmerized.

Years worth of fantasies have me weak in the fucking knees as I lean down and settle my lips on top of hers, watching her eyes smoke out as I sip the saliva from her lips, tasting sugar, slowly lapping into her mouth, groaning over her tremulous intake of breath.

How she parts for me like a flower, letting my tongue in deep for one stroke, two, three, ten…

“My turn,” Dean pants, spinning Ruby around.

Dragging his hands around and down to her ass and lifting her up, her legs automatically clinging to his hips like glue, Dean’s fingers flexing to tighten his hold while he slants their lips together, French kissing the twenty-four-year-old blonde, right there in front of his wife.

Raking her mouth with his tongue, while his hands knead her taut butt, the hem of her dress nearly gathered high enough for me to get a glimpse of those succulent ass cheeks.

“See?” Polly says, to the camera, filming her husband with Ruby, then flipping it back around to herself. “All parties are in agreement.”

“And a teeny bit turned on,” Molly laughs, fanning her face. “Well. We have a hot stone massage in an hour, so we best be moving on. Listen, we checked and all three of you are healthy, plus Ruby is on the shot. Don’t bother with condoms. Just have fun!”

The three of us stand there, breathing roughly, while the wives depart, leaving us with Ruby Lang, the girl neither one of us managed to shake.

And three consequence-free days to accomplish it.