There is no censure in West’s face, like I half expected. Wouldn’t he think I’m taking advantage of his friend? Hell, sometimes I think that. Meanwhile my friend Candy said he’s the one taking advantage of me, pushing me to move in, to commit to him, and knowing how much the support will help. Aren’t we a pair? Taking advantage of each other. Maybe that’s what love is, in the end. If not, it’s a pretty fine substitute.

“What do you want to do now?” West asks.

“I’m taking some classes but…” I trail off because I don’t know how much Blue has told him. Honestly when Blue first started talking about going bareback, about filling me with his come and making me pregnant, I thought it was some kind of breeding fantasy. I still think it’s some kind of breeding fantasy, except that we’re making it real.

“We’re thinking of starting a family,” Blue says, taking my hand and pulling me onto his lap.

Surprise flashes across West’s face. He whistles. “Damn, girl. When you settle a man down, you settle a man down.”

That makes me laugh, and I curve myself into Blue’s embrace. “Don’t blame me. Blue’s the one with a ticking biological clock.”

“Nah, I don’t blame you. And I don’t blame him either. Maybe if I’d got here a year ago, I’d have been the one swooping in and take you for myself.”

The way he says it, like I’m some kind of ideal, like he’s almost jealous of what Blue has, makes me blush. For so long I thought I was worthless. I knew men liked to fuck me—and I knew exactly how much they liked to fuck me in a dollar amount. What I didn’t realize is that men would want me for more than that, that my past as both a knocked-around kid and a stripper wouldn’t stop them from wanting more.

Blue curves his hand around my ass and squeezes gently. “You might’ve been here a year ago, but you wouldn’t have swooped in and taken a damn thing.”

I expect West to laugh. They have a competitive camaraderie that is fun to be around. Except he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead his gaze drops to where Blue’s hand is on my ass. For the first time since he showed up, lust flashes across his face.

Nervous, I glance at Blue. He’s watching me, lids low, a dark expression on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I think he likes it. It’s some kind of tease, an extension of their friendly competitiveness, natural and somehow intimate.

So intimate it makes me wonder if they’ve ever done more than tease.

My eyes widen. “Have you and him ever…?”

The corner of Blue’s mouth lifts. “What’s that, beautiful?”

“You know,” I stammer. “Shared a girl.”

The words come out in a rush, and I know from the sultry, smug looks on their faces that I’m right. “Not shared,” Blue says. “Not exactly. But I watched sometimes, sure. We’d get a night off and head to the bar near base. There are, what? Two men for every woman there. Maybe more.”

“Some girls like an audience,” West says, the drawl in his voice more pronounced.

The room feels twenty degrees hotter as testosterone and arousal swirl in the air. I had no idea that Blue was kinky enough to watch a couple have sex—although he’s been plenty kinky in other ways with just me and him. I imagine being some girl in a bar, being picked up by two men as big and strong and sexy as these two. It’s overwhelming…and I realize I may not have to imagine it after all.

Blue watches me from slitted eyes.

My voice is shaking. “Did you want me to—”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, beautiful. We’re just getting to know each other, after all.”

It makes me wonder if he thinks I’ll do more once I know West better. It makes me wonder if I even want to do more. Of course West is a handsome man, but being shared? “Umm.”

Blue shifts in his chair slightly, so my leg is trapped around his, and I’m slightly more exposed—facing West fully. “Maybe we could give him something to see,” he murmurs. “A nice little memory to bring to bed with him. Would he like that?”

West is completely still, lean body full of tension. “Christ, yes.” He pushes back in his chair, his expression more pain than pleasure. “Only if you’re okay, Hannah. Only if…”

“I’m okay,” I say, stronger now. God, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to give a man a show. “I want to.”

Just like Blue and West think all they can do is fight, all I can do is dance. And this isn’t even dancing for strangers. This is dancing for the man I love—and his best friend.

Except dancing isn’t what Blue has in mind. When I move to stand up, his hold on me tightens. “Ah ah,” he says softly, his breath warm against my temple. “Stay put, beautiful. Right here.”

I shudder at the command in his low voice, the voice I’d follow anywhere. “How will I—”

His hand slides around my waist, and then I know. I know exactly what kind of show he meant, and it doesn’t involve me dancing. Not unless dancing is more of a euphemism than even at the strip club. Blue reaches around me, one hand cupping my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple until it stands hard against the fabric of my shirt.

His other hand slides over my stomach and flicks the button of my shorts.

I gasp, because I wasn’t quite expecting this. Because I’m looking right at West while Blue touches me. Because I’m burning up from the inside out.

Blue’s voice is low in my ear. “Maybe I owe him something for letting me watch all those times. All those times I wouldn’t touch another girl, because the only one I wanted was you.”

My heart clenches at the reminder of our years apart. At the reminder that he didn’t have sex all that time.

West’s gaze flicks up to my face, as if assuring himself that I’m on board for this. Then he stares right at Blue’s hand, and I can feel him holding his breath, feel how much he wants this. How long has it been since he had a woman? He’s been deployed for months, and he just flew in. It looks like it’s been that long, judging from the stark need in his gaze, the way his knuckles turn pale as he grips the arms of the seat of his chair.

“Wait,” I say. When I dance, there’s music—if only in my head. When I dance, there’s a goddamn stage. Even when I’m giving a lap dance, I’m the one with control.

Of course Blue takes it away. He leaves me breathless and squirming, rubbing against the hard column of his erection through his jeans. It’s a different kind of lap dance, one where I’m trapped.

One where I don’t want him to let go.

“No, beautiful. You’re right where I want you.” Blue pulls down the zipper of my jean shorts and slips his hand inside. He wastes no time exploring and heads straight to my sex, capturing my clit between two calloused fingers.

I rock into his touch. “No fair.”

He laughs. “Not trying to be.”

West watches us with hunger—hunger for my body and for what Blue and I have together. His erection is plain to see against the denim of his jeans, but he makes no move to take it out or touch himself. He enjoys the show like a good soldier, like a grade A patron at the club, and that tells me he’ll make a damn fine bouncer.

“How does she look from that side?” Blue asks, voice casual as his fingers work me into a frenzy.

I’m almost out of my mind as I wait for West to answer him. There are a million words I imagine for myself. Slutty. Desperate. Scared. The one he comes up with, though, I never would have guessed.

“Like a goddamn mirage,” he says between clenched teeth.

My body is already going haywire, but at his words my heart squeezes. I know he meant what he said about being worried, about not fitting in stateside. About only being good for one thing. That desert he’s in isn’t only barren of women or sex. It’s barren of hope.

It’s enough to make me reach for the hem of my shirt. I’m halfway to orgasm already, pushed faster than I even know how to handle by Blue’s talented fingers. But I still manage to give West a seductive smile as I tease him with the flash of skin. I pull it up just enough that he can see the undersides of my breasts, clad in lace.