No sooner did she have that thought and an intriguing visual popped into her mind. Her, sandwiched between Griff and Logan, their strong hands caressing her everywhere and their cocks buried in her pussy and ass as they drove her insane with pleasure.
A breathless moan escaped her. Worried that Logan might have heard the sound, she jerked her gaze in his direction. His face remained in profile and he appeared oblivious of her silent mortification. Grateful for dodging that bullet, she exhaled in relief and fidgeted with one of the decorative grommets on the wingchair’s arm.
Logan settled on the couch across from her and stretched out his long legs, stacking the heel of one motorcycle boot atop the scuffed toe of the other. “So I take it you’ve never been with more than one man at a time.” He stroked his goatee. “How about another woman?”
“What fantasy land are you living in?”
His eyes twinkled. “Just checkin’.”
She relaxed her shoulders and tried for an air of sophistication. “Have you ever participated in a ménage a trois?”
“Yep. Once with another guy and twice with two women.”
Her expression must have betrayed her because Logan laughed. She bit her lip before caving to a self-deprecating chuckle. “Okay, you’re clearly the more adventurous of the two of us.”
“Is that what’s concerning you? Trying something new?”
She gaped at him. “Uh, taking up knitting is trying something new.”
“You know what I mean. Some folks get a little skittish when it comes to stepping out of their comfort zone.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it, but I suppose you’re right.” She’d never considered herself the type of person who preferred to play things safe. But now that she thought about it, the riskiest thing she’d ever tried was seducing Griff. And considering the zombie uprising that’d been triggered as a result, maybe she’d be wise to stop while she was ahead.
“Sugar, you’re thinkin’ too much.”
Snapping from her musings, she blinked at Logan. He pushed from the couch and strode toward her, his boot heels thudding on the hardwood floor. “The way I see it, there’s only one way we’re gonna ease past your comfort zone.”
He stopped directly in front of her. Trying her damnedest not to ogle the prominent bulge behind the fly of his jeans, she lifted her focus upward and locked gazes with Logan. “And that would be?”
Dropping to a crouch, he tucked a lock of her hair away from her eye and leaned forward until his breath feathered her mouth. “Me kissin’ you.”
“I don’t think—”
Logan’s lips brushed hers in a teasing caress, stalling her protest. His hand cupped her cheek before gliding to the nape of her neck. She shivered at the rough scrape of his calloused palm along her skin. He pulled back just enough to reveal the desire swirling amongst the gold flecks in his irises. “Don’t think. Just feel.”
Considering her brain pretty much short-circuited the moment their mouths touched, thinking was no longer an option. With a sexy low growl, he nibbled the seam of her bottom lip before licking the sting away. She gasped and he used the opportunity to his full advantage, his tongue thrusting past the barrier of her lips.
He kissed with a self-assured languidness that made her flesh break out in goose bumps. Though he didn’t touch her anywhere but her mouth and neck, his presence infiltrated every cell in her body. A riot of exhilarating and frightening sensations raced through her. Suddenly conscious of how she was betraying Griff, she jerked out of Logan’s embrace. “I’m sorry. I—I can’t do this.”
A shadow of disappointment clouded Logan’s expression before instantly dissipating. “It’s okay, sugar.” He hefted to his feet and extended his hand. “How about we see if Clarissa has released your hissin’ cat?”
She allowed Logan to tug her from the seat. Despite her best intentions, her scrutiny drifted to his straining erection. I must be the world’s biggest idiot for turning that down.
One minute Griffin was laying it into Logan, the next he was staring at empty space. Snarling beneath his breath, he whipped his head around and scowled at Clarissa. “Damn it, I hate it when you do that.”
“If you weren’t such a bullhead, I wouldn’t be forced to.”
Ignoring Clarissa’s calm pronouncement, he stormed toward the doorway. She hurried in front of him, blocking his exit with a sharp jab of her fingernail in the center of his chest. “Do not make me whammy you again.”
“How long has she been alone with Logan?”
An exasperated sigh floated from Clarissa. “Oh for goddess’s sake. They’re just down the hall. What do you think Logan is going to do to her?”
He didn’t even want to consider the possibilities. Fortunately, the sound of approaching voices lowered his spiking blood pressure. As soon as Jemma popped into view, he knocked Clarissa’s hand aside and stalked into the hall.
Jemma stopped talking the second she spotted him. “Griff, you’re unfrozen.”
Before he could respond, she rushed forward and slung her arms around him. Her exuberance caught him off guard, but it was the kiss she planted on him that really knocked him back a step. Literally. Steadying himself—and Jemma—he cupped her hips. Apparently taking that as an invitation to turn up the heat, she glided her tongue over his and crushed her breasts against his chest. There was no mistaking the hard nubs of her nipples poking into him. Aroused as he was, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something going on here that he was missing.
Pulling back, he gave Jemma a questioning look. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Jemma glanced in Logan’s direction and a blush bloomed on her cheeks.
He opened his mouth, fully intending to blast Logan for whatever the hell he’d done to upset Jemma, but shouts and the scurrying click of nails on the foyer’s marble floor captured his attention instead. They all turned as Floyd came galloping down the corridor, Gloria hot on his heels. Ms. Peach trailed behind in a more sedate, shuffling pace.
“Damn it, Peach,” Clarissa bellowed.
“What? I’m not that mutt’s keeper.”
Floyd spotted them and skidded to a stop. Wagging his tail, he lowered his head and dropped something from his mouth. The object rolled several times before coming to a standstill near Clarissa’s foot. As if they’d choreographed the motion, he, Jemma, Clarissa and Logan bent forward to inspect Floyd’s prize.
Jemma was the first to speak. “Uh, call me crazy, but that looks like a toe.”
“No, I’m sure it’s just a rock.” Clarissa scooped up the object for a closer look. It shifted in her palm, displaying a neatly trimmed—if not graying—nail. She shrieked and flung her arm, sending the toe flying. It smacked into Gloria’s forehead.
“What the—?” Gloria peered down. A nanosecond later, her shriek joined Clarissa’s.
“For the love of Elvis. You people act like you’ve never seen a severed toe before.” Grumbling, Ms. Peach stooped and grabbed the appendage from the floor. She placed it on the nearby demilune table like the toe was a macabre knickknack.
Griffin frowned and strode to the table. He eyed the shriveled appendage, apprehension crawling along his spine as he took in the amount of decomposition that’d settled into the rotted flesh. There was only one reasonable explanation for what he was looking at.
Bloody Nettie had dispatched her next errand boy.