But at the same time, I couldn’t. I had to focus. Rocking the boat at this point would mean career suicide, and I couldn’t risk that.
But then I saw the man looking around, and my dick instantly took notice. He was older, but fuck me, he was sexy. His face lit up when he spotted Cara, and my breath caught as he crossed the portico to her. He hugged her, and the yearning to be with them hit me like a Mack truck.
I was being ridiculous. I shook my head, chiding myself, and turned away.
But like we were magnetized, my gaze was drawn back to them. They were close enough now that I could see the colour of his eyes—a striking royal blue, so very different to my icier colour.
He was the classic silver fox with a perfectly trimmed beard tipped in grey that highlighted his strong cheekbones, chiselled jaw, and fuckable lips. His muscles were cut rather than bulky. His clothes—a perfectly fitted Powderfinger band tee and faded blue jeans—were well-worn and looked soft as silk as they hugged every inch of his tight body.
I slunk back, staying out of view so I could watch as he held Cara’s hand and carried my bag with the other. The picture they made together raised every hair on my body, every nerve ending set alight at the visual.
I was screwed. Utterly, hopelessly screwed.
The message the front desk gave me when I collected my key came as no surprise—Cara had my bag, and I could collect it from her whenever I wanted. I went straight to her room.
“Cara,” I called before she took that sex god into her room. If it were me with either one of them, we wouldn’t be surfacing for days. “You’ve got my bag,” I added.
Her guy faced me head-on, and even though I was taller and wider, he wasn’t even close to being intimidated.
“It’s not her job to carry your shit, mate,” he hissed in a strong Australian accent.
I loved the sound of it. The soft pronunciation of the “r” so that “your” sounded more like “yeh,” and the way he stretched out the “a” in “mate” was sexy as fuck.
His protectiveness over Cara was next-level addictive too. They would be beautiful together.
I swallowed hard when my dick twitched. Jesus, I didn’t need a boner right when I was trying to make myself scarce, and I was sure the horror showed on my face. But forgetting my bag was also unintentional on my part—I’d needed to get out of there and hadn’t been thinking.
“Relax, dude. I just forgot it,” I volleyed back.
“Don’t let it happen ag—”
“Okay, then,” Cara cut in and rested a hand on her guy’s forearm.
He turned his attention to Cara, ignoring me entirely. The take-no-shit attitude made my dick twitch too. The way his eyes flashed with determination to teach me a lesson if I took advantage of Cara again was hot as fuck. The low growl in his voice sent shivers through me. I could just imagine it in my ear as he pinned me down and fucked me into the mattress.
Instant lust for sure.
I loved the softness of a woman, her luscious curves and sweetness of touch. I loved their moans and sighs and the waythey clutched at me and trusted me to take them to the stars. Cara would be like that. I saw her with that dude and knew she’d respond beautifully when she was touched. She was awkward and adorable, and the flush that crept up her throat, staining her cheeks that pretty pink, was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to see if I could make her flush like that too.
It hadn’t been intentional, but I wasn’t disappointed that I’d forgotten my bag. Cara had been kind enough to save my ass—Keeley would have reamed it if I’d admitted my passport had been lost along with my bag—and unintentionally gave me the perfect opportunity to see her again.
I shouldn’t be imagining her splayed out on my bed, naked and sated, but there was no way I could resist it. She was perfection from every bumbling word that tumbled from her mouth to that gorgeous ass I wanted to grip onto.
Every instinct told me to get closer to her—to both of them. My gut never let me down on the ice. I moved when my instincts told me to. I wasn’t on the ice here, but damn, that instinct was screaming at me to move and not hesitate.
I had a type—first Minns and Kam—and now this guy and Cara? Spot. The fuck. On.
And they were going out on a date.
I wanted in on it.
It was completely unexpected. I’d just been spectacularly dumped by my teammate and his wife, yet I was already thinking about these two people. That just didn’t happen to me. I was built for polyamorous relationships, but I hadn’t had much experience with it. Sure, I’d had one-night stands, but Chris and Kam were the only relationship-ish relationship I’d ever had.
They’d hurt me. They’d cast me aside exactly the same way that my parents had when I didn’t fit the mould they’d created for me.
But I’d done a lot of thinking on that long-ass flight, and I’d realized a couple of things.
One, I wasn’t in love with them. Sure, I liked both of them, but it wasn’t love. Now it wasn’t even like.
