Titles by Joey W. Hill Naughty Wishes Part I: Body Naughty Wishes Part II: Heart
Unrestrained
Naughty Bits
The Vampire Queen's Servant The Mark of the Vampire Queen A Vampire's Claim Beloved Vampire Vampire Mistress Vampire Trinity Vampire Instinct Bound by the Vampire Queen Taken by a Vampire
A Mermaid's Kiss A Witch's Beauty A Mermaid's Ransom Something About Witches In the Company of Witches Anthologies
Laced with Desire (with Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, and Denise Rossetti) Unlaced
(with Jaci Burton, Jasmine Haynes, and Denise Rossetti) Specials
Honor Bound
Controlled Response
Naughty Wishes
Part II
Heart
Joey W. Hill
InterMix Books, New York
AN IMPRINT OF PENGUIN RANDOM HOUSE LLC
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NAUGHTY WISHES PART II: HEART
An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author Copyright (c) 2016 by Joey W. Hill.
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eBook ISBN: 978-0-69819823-4
PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / February 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Titles by Joey W. Hill
Title Page
Copyright
Naughty Wishes Part II: Heart
Excerpt from NAUGHTY WISHES PART III: MIND
About the Author
In our first installment, Body, Samantha took a risk to get the two men she loves on board with pursuing a relationship together. While Chris is out of town, she goads Geoff, the alpha and Dom of their trio, into acting on his feelings for her. She is successful beyond her wildest dreams. Unfortunately, Chris returned at an unexpected moment, and she hadn't anticipated his negative reaction to their proceeding without his participation. Book Two opens just as Chris has turned and walked out of the house.
Geoff knew he couldn't miss his client meeting. Yet if he thought it would help Chris's state of mind, he'd say to hell with it and stay. The problem was, he knew it wouldn't.
Geoff latched on to Sam's arm, keeping her from following Chris when he stormed out of the kitchen and went into the backyard. Her body was vibrating with tension, the need to soothe, to fix. She was good at those things, but Geoff knew Chris in this mood better than she did. It didn't tear his heart out of his chest any less than it did hers, but Chris had to have his space when he was dealing with a surfeit of emotional shit. Finding the two of them naked and in the shower together qualified as a dump truck load.
"He needs some time to settle, Sam," Geoff told her. He put both hands on her shoulders so she had to face him square and pay attention to what he was saying. "Give him some breathing room, then we can talk it out."
She wasn't going to do that. Her gray eyes were filled with pain, her mouth taut with worry. He bit back a sigh. "You're not scheduled to work today. Why don't you come with me? The client meet is at a restaurant near Southpark Mall. You can go wander around there, and come back to my office after. Read a book on my couch, whatever. If it gets late, you can take my car home and I'll catch the bus."
She shook her head. "I won't leave him alone, even if he doesn't want to talk. One of us needs to be here."
Geoff's fingers tightened on her. "Don't push him, Sam."
"I'll just follow my intuition," she said. "Like I did with you."
"And that worked out so well, didn't it?"
Shit, had he really just said that? He grabbed her hand when she recoiled, and gathered her to him as she started to struggle. "Stop. Ow." She slapped at him and hit his jaw, which was still sore thanks to Chris's much larger fist. He caught her wrist and gave her a little shake.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. What happened between you and me wasn't wrong. It was everything I imagined, Sam. And a whole lot more than that."
She stopped struggling but glared at him out of steely gray eyes. "Why do you have to be so mean sometimes?"
"Because I open my damn mouth before I think about what's coming out of it," he said wearily.
At home, not at work. At work, doing the right thing at the right moment was second nature to him, but with her and Chris, he wasn't always as sure of his way. He could become the best orator in the history of the legal profession, and he still wouldn't know how to put together the right words to tell them exactly how much they meant to him. Case in point: he was pretty sure Chris had an altogether different impression of how much Geoff valued their friendship at the moment.
She was watching his face and seeing too much. "You meant we should have waited," she said brokenly. "I should have waited."
"No." He cupped her jaw. "Sam, this is on me. Yeah, maybe we should have, but you weren't wrong. We've been dragging our feet for months, even knowing we all felt something, and you were the one who realized something had to give."
"But you told me from the beginning, just wait until he gets back . . ."
"Yes, I did. But I didn't, either, did I?" The consequences of that speared him through the chest as much as he was sure they did her, but hell if he was going to let her shoulder them. From that parting cold look Chris had given him, his friend wasn't putting it on her, either. On that, at least, they were in agreement.
Despite the ache in his chest, he pulled his shit together. "Sam, I told you, this is new for me," he said steadily. "Not the wanting-to-be-a-Dom part, but doing that, and this, all of it, with someone as close to me as you are? You're my first."
Truth, he felt like she was the only one he wanted that way, now or forever, but he wasn't sure if this was the best time to tell her that. Some great and powerful Dom he was. He felt like a complete idiot. He needed to go to work, where he felt on far more solid ground, but that wasn't the answer, either. Fuck it. If he was late, he was late. Mike was going to be at the meeting, and Geoff could text and tell him to get it started.
Sam was still staring a hole in his chest, her body stiff. Geoff ran his hands over her thin, silky robe, feeling the slim bones of her shoulders. He moved down to her elbows and back again. "I know it hurt like hell, him pulling away. But trust me, he just has to think it through. He wouldn't have reacted that way if he weren't so crazy about you he can't walk a straight line. He walks in on that, he's not sure where he fits. And then you put your arms around him, offer yourself to him. Oh well, look, Chris is here, let's just throw him into the mix."
She parted her lips on a protest, but he shook his head. "I know it's not that way. We both do. The timing just went screwy on us. If he'd gotten home later today, we could have sat down and talked about it, fully clothed. It would have gone better." He hoped.
His fucking phone buzzed on the kitchen table--probably fucking Mike trying to see if he was on his fucking way.
/> "You have to go," Sam said.
"I know. I don't want to. Not unless you come with me so I know I'm not leaving you in the middle of this."
"No, I really feel I need to stay. Don't worry, we'll figure it out." She put on a far-too-bright smile. "It's going to be okay. Go to work. I'm going to get dressed."
"Sam, this isn't on you to fix. You get that, right?"
Of course she didn't. She was a Type A personality and a submissive, and thought every damn thing in the world that went wrong was either her fault, or her responsibility to fix. She was a smart woman, but she was also a creature of the heart. Between heart and mind, her heart usually won. Maybe that was how he needed to approach it.
Taking her hand, he drew her over to the kitchen table and took a seat in one of the chairs, pulling her to stand between his knees. Her brow furrowed. "You need to go--"
"I'll go when I'm done here." He slipped the tie of her robe, letting it fall open so her lovely torso was visible to him, the pink-tipped breasts, the pale skin, the shaved mound and slim thighs. As he returned his attention to her face, he shifted both hands to her waist inside the robe, and gripped her firmly. He liked the way his hands looked pressed against her skin and, from the little tremor of reaction, he knew she liked how they felt.
"You can't imagine what it does to a man, to see you open yourself to him like this. He may be out in the yard fuming, but I guarantee what's branded in his brain is you standing before him naked, your mouth soft and your eyes asking for everything from him. I can't stop you from trying to talk with him while I'm gone, but I am going to tell you this: Put aside any strategies to solve this and go with your heart. Only your heart. There's nothing you need to fix. Nothing. Say it."
He pinned her with a hard look, and tried not to let the light tinge that came to her cheeks, the shift of her gaze and nervous moistening of her lips, all classic signs of submission, distract him from his purpose.
"I don't know . . ."
"You say it and mean it, or you go to work with me. I'll throw you over my shoulder to do it if I have to. I won't let you stay here and punish yourself for something that's not your fault, or set yourself up that way in front of Chris. He's not at the point he'd know how to deal with that the right way."
"And how is that?" At her mutinous look, he almost smiled, because it was the reaction he wanted.
"Cut a switch and beat your ass with it until you were saying you were sorry for the right things."
"He'd have to catch me first," she said decisively, but he was watching her pulse rate increase in her lovely throat. Pain for pleasure didn't turn her off, and Christ, that was way too much of a turn-on for him.
He drew her closer and kissed a nipple, giving it the edge of his teeth and a swirl of tongue that had her shivering again. "I could catch you," he promised. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Chris punishing you while I watched."
"Stop it," she said, trying halfheartedly to pull away. "I don't want to get all . . . you know . . . while he's upset."
"I know." He softened his tone. "I have no problem with you reassuring him on how you feel about him, Sam." Geoff met her gaze, making sure she was listening closely to what he was saying. How he was saying it. "But you won't accept any blame. That's going to be between him and me."
"But I . . ."
"Do you trust me?"
She fidgeted. "On most things."
He suppressed the desire to shake her. "If you want me to be your Master, you have to figure out which areas are yours and which are mine to handle."
"And how will I know that?"
"Because I'll tell you." Dropping his hand to her ass, he squeezed it hard enough to make her jump. "Anything related to vacuuming or washing dishes is totally your area. My area is to stand around, issue orders and look commanding."
He saw her move from worry to exasperation and amusement. Though it looked like an uphill battle, he thought he'd made her feel a little better. She spread her hands out in a helpless gesture. "Geoff, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. It's killing me that he's out there, mad and unhappy, and somehow thinking he's outside of this."
"I know. We'll figure it out." He pursed his lips. "Hand me a Sharpie."
They kept assorted notepads, pens and markers in a big fruit bowl on the table. She reached over to it to get a marker, the robe sliding away from her naked body in a way that had him stifling a groan. Without her saying it, he knew she hadn't made any move to cover herself because he was the one who'd opened the robe, and it was up to him to decide when he wanted her covered.
Forcing himself to focus, he turned her around. "Drop the robe off your shoulders. Don't take it all the way off."
She complied. It was unspeakably provocative, the baring of her shoulders at his command, him standing behind her, his breath stirring her hair. He slid the straight brown strands over her shoulder so they tumbled over her right breast. She stood, a bemused look to her profile as he began to write between her shoulder blades. He blew on the print, making sure it was dry before he pulled the robe back up on her shoulders. Turning her around, he overlapped the panels of her robe and tied it, wrapping the ends around his hands to hold her to him.
"You're not allowed to see what I wrote until after he sees it. If he pulls a single tear out of you, you show it to him. You hear me?"
"Chris won't make me cry."
He gave her a patient look. "Not on purpose, but if he does, promise me."
"I promise."
He touched her nose. "You were brave enough to kick me in the ass to get this moving. Now I need you to throttle back. Focus on what you do best for us."
"What's that? And if you say ironing your shirts or cleaning toilets, I will kick you in the balls."
He chuckled at that, at the flash in her gray eyes, and folded her against him. She let out a frustrated little sigh, but looped her arms around his waist and back and pressed her cheek to his chest. He leaned down and spoke in her ear, giving her the truth in two words.
"Loving us."
*
Sam tried to give Chris breathing space, but by early afternoon, she was the one who couldn't breathe. Chris hadn't come back into the house, but he hadn't left. He'd been working out of the garden shed and in the yard. One of the projects had involved digging a sizeable hole, and she wondered if he intended to put Geoff into it after he brained him with the shovel. However, after watching him out the window through the morning, she surmised he was working on the man-made pond he'd been talking about creating for some time. Which was fine, except he was doing that after having driven through the night to get home to them.
He hadn't come in for food or water, despite his shirt getting soaked with enough sweat he'd eventually stripped it off. She'd had enough.
She marched out into the backyard armed with Gatorade. The waistband of the camo pants he wore was also damp, his upper body gleaming with sweat. After he'd finished with the hole for the pond, he'd moved to edging out a border for another natural area near the aviary. She remembered him mentioning a desire to arrange bird feeders and other landscape features there when he had time. Or when he needed to work off a mad, apparently.
"I brought you something to drink."
"Thanks. Just set it over there." Chris kept grinding the edger into the red clay of the yard. Setting her jaw, Sam stepped in his path so he had to check his movement. He missed the tips of her sneakers with the edger by an inch. "Damn it, Sam."
"Can you just take a break? Stop and take a moment."
"I will in a while. I need to work right now."
When she put out a hand, he stepped back from her. She masked the hurt as best she could. "Chris. Please."
"It's okay, Sam. Just . . . leave it alone. Leave me alone." He sidled around her with a painfully stiff courtesy, but when he put his head down to focus on what he was doing, she pivoted to watch his back, the ripple of muscles along his shoulders, the tension he was carrying there.
"It doesn't feel okay.
"
"Well, I'm sorry it doesn't feel okay to you." He snapped it out, but then straightened, rubbing a hand over his face. "See what I'm trying to tell you? What I'm feeling now, I don't want it to spill out on you, okay? It doesn't matter if you can handle it or not; if that happens, I'm just going to feel worse. I assume you don't want me to feel worse."
He said that last part caustically enough that she flinched, but when his expression darkened, she knew he'd just made his point. His brown eyes could be as sweet and placid as a bull at rest in his pasture, but they could also hold fire, like now. Making a monumental effort to try and respect his desires, she reined back a dozen responses and went with the one that seemed most likely to let her remain.
"Okay. But drink something for me. You've been out here a long time and I'm worried." She stepped closer. Holding up the Gatorade, she gave him an expectant look.
He eyed her and sighed. Leaning on the yard tool, he took the bottle from her hands. There was dirt creased between the folds of his knuckles. He always smelled like the earth, even after he washed at the end of a workday. He liked feeling whatever he was touching, so he rarely used work gloves. Every night, when relaxing in front of the TV, he cleaned his nails and trimmed the cuticles. Even so, he had the hands of a man who embraced manual labor. Big and callused, and always warm.
Tipping his head back, he emptied the container, telling her she'd been right to bring some out to him. She wanted to reach up and let her fingers trail over the movement of his throat. She wanted to press against his body and caress the damp hair at his nape, inhale the combination of earth and male scents that meant Chris to her. But whether she was genuinely trying to respect what Geoff and now Chris himself had told her, or because his rebuff was too recent and she didn't have the courage, she didn't.
When he handed the bottle back to her with a stiff nod, she retreated, but she didn't leave. She sat down on a stump. At his look, she set her chin. "You said leave it alone. You didn't tell me to leave you alone. Do you want me to?"
"There's a loaded female question if ever I heard one. Right up there with Does this make me look fat?"
The touch of wryness offered her hope, but his eyes remained shuttered, his mouth tight. He went back to edging. Silence reigned for the next quarter hour. It wasn't the first time she'd sat outside on a pretty day to watch Chris work in the yard. Usually she brought a book and lay in the outdoor hammock he'd strung between two maples, or sat in a resin chair on the patio, all to be near him. The two of them would talk in comfortable snippets, as natural as the comings and goings of a breeze. If Geoff was home and working, he'd be sitting at the dining room table. When the weather was nice, he'd shut off the air and open up the screened windows flanking the picture window so he could hear them, occasionally calling out a comment or two.