Two Man Advantage by June Winters

1

Sofia Miller

Lust hung like heavy fog in the cozy hotel room. A luscious set of lips found the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder meet, making my skin tingle with pins and needles.

Good girls don’t do things like this, some guilty part of me said.

But the thought was quickly blotted out by the fireworks exploding behind my eyes. Brock gently cupped my face with both of his big, strong hands, making me feel so safe and secure as our lips locked. His sensual kisses made time stand still, like you were all alone, just you and him.

The crazy thing was, though, we weren’t alone.

Connor spun me around. Before I even had a chance to catch my breath, his mouth crashed into mine like a burst of molten desire. His hot and urgent kisses were completely different, but equally amazing in their own way: like he had to have me, right then and there.

I guess I’m not a good girl then, another part of me answered. Because I love this.

My head was still spinning from the way my marriage had ended. It all blew up a few months ago, before we’d even mailed out the thank you cards to the wedding guests. Now I found myself in a swanky hotel room in Midtown, crammed on a couch between two smoking hot strangers I knew nothing about—except that they were dying to share me.

I swapped between Brock and Connor, each kiss burning brighter and hotter than the last. I couldn’t decide who I liked better. The two men scratched different itches, both of them essential. It seemed cruel that a girl was expected to have only one for the rest of her life.

But at least for one night, I didn’t have to choose, did I?

A hand reached under the hem of my dress.

“We want you so bad,” one of the boys whispered in my ear.

A moan escaped me and I opened my legs, and then there were two hands eagerly sliding up my thighs …

* * *

Thirty minutes earlier.

We rolled into an upscale hotel bar in Midtown just past midnight. The dimly-lit bar was packed with a well-dressed crowd of young professionals, letting loose on a Friday night and getting drunk on expensive cocktails.

The eight of us grabbed a round of drinks and managed to snag a booth towards the back of the bar.

“Ooh. This place is nice!” McKayla said, her head on a swivel as we crammed into the booth. “Everyone here looks hot and loaded.”

Sarah nudged my elbow. “Hear that? Keep your eyes peeled. You might find someone.” Tall, fit, and blessed with natural beauty, Sarah had been the optimist of the group ever since we met in middle school. She was getting married next month to a great guy. We’d joked for months about taking her to the ladies’ strip club for her bachelorette party, but at this point in the night, it was pretty clear we were too chicken to actually go. Sarah was definitely way too innocent for that kind of thing, anyway. We’d ended up bar hopping all night instead.

“So when are you going to start dating again, Sofia?” Sarah asked in her eternal cheer.

I tutted. “No idea. And honestly? I’m not too interested.”

She laid her hand on top of mine. “That’s okay, hon. It might take some time.”

“Yep. I know.”

“Don’t worry, Sof,” McKayla said. “You’re not missing out on anything. New York City is crawling with fuckboys. All the quality guys are already locked down.”

McKayla Jones was my best friend since the seventh grade, and she had the same kind of luck with men that I did—that is to say, not great. Ever since high school, we’ve seemed to attract the exact same kind of emotionally unavailable, noncommittal weirdos. Fuckboys, as she called them.

“Sounds great. Can’t wait,” I grumbled sarcastically. “Honestly, though, I’ve been thinking about moving to Las Vegas.”

“What?!”the entire table gasped. “No!”

The eight of us were all Minnesota ex-pats—friends who’d grown up together in the Twin Cities, gone to college, and eventually ended up moving to New York City to find true love and blaze our career paths.

And how was that working out for me so far? Well, I’d certainly tried my hand at both. But at the ripe age of twenty-five, I was already a divorcee after the world’s shortest marriage, and I had a soul-sucking office job I dreaded going to every morning.

I knew I needed a change. I just didn’t know what that change was. Moving seemed like the obvious escape, and my dad’s latest job promotion provided the perfect opportunity.

“What would you do if you moved to Vegas?” Sarah asked me.

“My dad just got that big time general manager job, and he says I’ve got a job waiting if I want it,” I said. “I could do that until I find something else, I guess.”

“Might not be the worst thing in the world,” McKayla said with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? You might meet some sexy hockey stud. Tall, cute, jacked, and rich?” Her body shivered with delight. “Mmm. Hell yeah, I’ll be your trophy wife!”

We all laughed.

“Yeah, but my dad was a hockey player, remember?” I said. “I know how that story ends.”

“Yeesh … yeah … forgot about that,” McKayla said. She’d personally witnessed, what, four of my dad’s failed marriages?

“You can’t go, Sofia. We’d miss you so much,” Sarah said. “You’d stay if you met a decent guy. You know that, right?”

She was probably right. But I knew I was still way too fucked up from the divorce to land a decent guy. I wasn’t in any kind of condition to start dating—and I wouldn’t be for years, probably.

“Well, if Sofia leaves for Vegas, I’m going with her,” McKayla declared.

Hearing they’d lose two girls instead of one, the others leered at me and amped up their angry jeers. “Hear that, Sofia? You can’t go.”

“I better get the next round before somebody takes a swing at me,” I joked, sliding out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

I made my way through the crowd and found a spot to stand at the bar. I kept my eye on the bartender, wanting to grab his attention, when the tiny hairs on the back of my neck began to stand tall. An electric presence loomed behind me, charging the air like a sudden thunderstorm.

Someone was behind me, and he wanted myattention.

I peeked over my shoulder and saw not one but two strangers. The first thing I noticed was their height. Iwas tall enough that some men didn’t like it when I wore heels—as if my height made them less of a man, or something. But even in heels, I had to crane my neck to look up at these two guys. The word tall wouldn’t quite do them justice—no, these handsome men were statuesque. They wore expensive suits, snugly tailored to fit their broad, muscular frames.

Wow. Hello.

“Hey there,” both said at the same time.

They were cut from the same mold—tall, wide shouldered, strapping men. They had the same classic good looks, too: the prominent cheekbones, the strong jaw and square chin. There were differences between them, of course. The clean-cut guy on the right looked like he could’ve been the captain of the football teamback in high school. He was the popular boy who excelled at everything—school, sports, girls. He had the winning smile and the aura of a genuinely good guy that made everyone instantly root for him. But make no mistake; this hard worker knew a thing or two about having fun, too. He was the guy who could bring you home from your date hours late without your dad suspecting a thing—even though he’d just had you in the back of his sports car with your legs over his shoulders.

The guy on the left, though? Well, he wasn’t getting anything over on your dad—not with those brooding eyes, the sexy scruff, or the unruly locks of wavy hair. Not that he’d ever give a damn what your dad or the rest of society thought about him. No, this was the guy your dad warned you about: the aimless bad boy who’d never amount to anything in life despite his tantalizing potential. He was the boy who broke every heart ever given to him, but girls still flocked to him like moths to a flame, mistakenly thinking they could fix him.

“Hi?” I mumbled uncertainly.

What in the world do two guys like you want with me? I thought.

“We think you’re cute,” the one on my left said with just the kind of devil-may-care confidence I’d expected.

I guess it shouldn’t have been a surprise, since they’d been undressing me with their eyes ever since I turned around. Still, he’d said “we”think you’re cute—which struck me as a weird way to phrase it.

“We?” I asked.

But if the guy on the right thought his friend’s word choice was weird, he certainly didn’t show it. “What’s your name?” he asked.

When your dad is a retired hockey player in the Hall of Fame, you try not to do anything that would besmirch the family name … or at the very least, you give a fake name before you do.

“Kate,” I lied.

“Nice to meet you,” the good guy said, extending his hand for a warm hand shake. “I’m Brock.”

“Connor,” the other one said in a sexy rasp that sent a shiver down my spine. The bad boy didn’t just shake my hand—he sandwiched it between both of his, as if he simply had to get his hands all over me.

“So what are you up to tonight, Kate?” Brock asked. His picture-perfect smile put a flutter in my heart.

“Bachelorette party,” I said. But the hotel bar was noisy. I had to say it again, this time, shouting to be heard. They took the opportunity to get closer.

“Who’s getting hitched?” Brock asked, leaning in.

Connor nestled even closer. “And please tell us it’s not you.”

Nope. I’m never making that mistake again.

“Not me,” I said. “My friend.”

“You girls up to no good tonight?” Connor asked, grazing my bare shoulder with the tips of his fingers. His glancing touch sent a warm shiver down my back.

“Not really,” I said, still playing defense. “We’re a pretty boring group.”

“Boring, huh?” A spark flickered in Connor’s eye. “You ever wanna do something wild, Kate?”

Whatever he had in mind, I couldn’t say I was interested. The last time I did something wild, it ended up being a colossal mistake. But before I could shoot him down, Brock reached over and gave his buddy a little shove.

“Dude. Come on,” Brock said, trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t overhear.

“What?” Connor replied.

“You’re nuts. Just look at her,” Brock said, turning his reverent eyes to me. He clearly saw the best in me. I wanted to be the good woman he clearly thought I was, to be worthy of his approval.

But Connor looked at me with a hint of a smile and a certain knowing in his eyes. I felt like he could see right through me—like he knew something about me I didn’t even know about myself.

I managed to hear Brock say, “She’s not into that.”

Into what? A second ago, I didn’t want to know, but now their bickering had aroused my curiosity. My mind went someplace forbidden, someplace wrong, but the very thought of it made me flush with excitement. And after what I’d gone through, wouldn’t something like that only be fair? It was almost like the universe was trying to pay me back—

But I had to get those fucked-up ideas out of my head. I had to put the focus back on them.

“So are you two brothers?” I asked.

“Yeah, sort of,” Connor said.

“Sort of?” I asked.

They exchanged glances and laughed.

“We’re not related,” Brock clarified, “but we’re brothers in the sense that we’re best friends. We live together, work together, party together. Really, we do everything together.”

I bit my lip, doing my best to stave off a huge grin. For some reason, I always loved it when two guys had a really close friendship and weren’t afraid to admit it. A bromance was honestly one of my favorite things in the world.

But Connor leaned closer to whisper into my ear. “Everything,” he said, a sexy snarl in his voice, his warm breath on my lobe.

By speaking only one word, Connor summoned a cascade of filthy images that went sweeping through my mind’s eye: two muscular men tearing me out of my dress, their hands and mouths all over my body, their cocks filling every hole. It was so wrong, such a dirty fantasy—and yet I couldn’t deny its effect on me. My breath had slowed, every muscle tightened, and my nipples began to tingle and ache. I took a quick peek down and saw little points poking through my dress.

Oh God.

“What do you do, Kate?” Brock asked.

“I do product design for an accessories company,” I said, discreetly hiding my rock-hard nipples beneath my arm.

Impressed, Brock’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. Sounds important.”

I snickered. “Not really. It’s boring, I promise.”

“Boring. There’s that word again,” Connor observed. “Sounds like you could use a little excitement in your life.”

“Who knows?” I let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Yeah?” Connor asked, his grin spreading. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“I just wanna know,” I stammered, “when you asked if I wanted to do something wild—” I trailed off, unable to finish the question. The boys exchanged looks again, and Connor sneered at Brock as if to say, I told you so.

“You wanna know what we had in mind, don’t you?” Connor asked.

My head said no way, but my hammering heart screamed yes.

“Yeah,” I said to Connor. I gave Brock a guilty glance. I’m sorry!

Without another word, Connor leaned in and claimed my mouth. I was shocked. I wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection in bars, especially with strangers—but he was such a good kisser, I eagerly kissed him back. He deepened the kiss and our tongues touched. I barely had time to process what was happening before Brock tore me away from Connor. He took me into his strong arms and planted his soft lips on mine.

Is this really happening? Are these guys serious?

While Brock kissed me, Connor stroked my arm and whispered in my ear. “Like I told you. We do everything together.”

Brock broke the kiss off early, leaving me wanting. The taste of both men still lingered in my mouth. I wanted more. Needed more.

“Are you serious?” was all I could say, looking again to Brock for approval. “Really?”

“Kate,” Brock said, gently whispering my name in my other ear. “We want you.”

Oh my God.

“B-both of you?” I stammered, my eyes darting between the two.

Connor pointed up. “Wanna see our hotel room?”

Brock reached for my hand and sweetly clasped it in his. “What do you say?”

God, how I wanted to. But what would my friends think if I told them I was leaving with two random men?

Brock was one step ahead of me. He snagged a passing cocktail waitress. “See that table over there?” he said, slipping her a metal credit card and a crisp hundred dollar bill. “Could you let them know we’re taking off, and put their drinks on my tab for the rest of the night?”

“Sure,” the waitress said with an easy shrug.

Brock turned to me with a heart-melting smile. “So, Kate, would you like to come with us?”

Connor whispered in my ear, “ ’Cause we’d love for you to come with us.”

The spot between my legs throbbed with a primal yearning.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Take me.”