Elyssa watched their embrace, thrilled by its adversarial feel, enjoying the sight of Jay’s pale, slight torso against Patrick’s rugby-player build, Jay’s long spidery fingers lodged in Patrick’s short dirty-blond crop, Patrick’s strong jaw working into Jay’s freckled cheek. His glasses had steamed up. Elyssa reached out and removed them, her unintended interruption breaking the men’s kiss and recalling their attention to her.
“Wow,” she breathed.
“Not bad for a beginner,” said Jay, a little hoarsely. “Bit lacking in finesse, but that’ll come.”
“Less of your cheek, Marriott, or I’ll have you on your knees before you can say ‘elegantly wasted.’”
“Wow,” repeated Elyssa. “There is definitely a spark there.”
“Don’t think you’re getting away with anything,” growled Patrick, turning to her. “Two men and one girl—you’re going to be a busy, busy bee, aren’t you?”
“I hope so,” she said with a grin. “God, I’m starving. Sort us some food out, Jay, will you?”
“My pleasure, madam. And after that, you’re coming into the shower with me and Patrick. Is the shower big, Mr. Robertson?”
“Massive,” confirmed Patrick with a wicked smile. “More like a wet room.”
“Well, that’s good. Somebody is going to get very wet in the wet room.”
He handed her a plate of breakfast. “So get those proteins and carbohydrates down you. Slow release energy, Elyssa. It will be your friend.”
Jay drained the last of his coffee, banged the cup down on the trolley and loped off towards the bathroom.
“What about your slow release energy?” Elyssa wanted to know, but he shrugged.
“Need other appetites satisfied before I can eat,” he said. “Don’t let Robertson there eat it all. He always was a gannet.”
“Growing boy, mate,” muffled Patrick, mouth stuffed.
“I hope so,” muttered Elyssa, blushing at her own wickedness. This couldn’t be true, could it? It was like some kind of luxurious, decadent dream. She turned to Patrick.
“You really are okay with this?”
He put a hand on her knee, rubbing it underneath the duvet.
“Never more so,” he reassured, chewing off a final crust of toast and brushing the crumbs from his chest. “Look at the state of me! I need a shower. And so, I think, do you.”
He took Elyssa’s glass of fruit juice from her hand, put it down and assisted her, gentlemanly as ever, from the bed.
“Is it cheating if I kiss you on your own, without Jay being here?” he murmured.
“I don’t think so,” she whispered back and, connected at the lips, they made a slow and smoochy journey across the deep-pile carpet to the bathroom, from which the sound of water splashing on tiles was already audible.
“Come on in,” Jay invited, his lean, nude body outlined behind the streaming, steamed-up glass door. “The water’s lovely.”
Elyssa stepped in first, finding herself instantly grabbed and pulled into Jay’s body, the wetness causing their skin to slap, and water to drip and pool around their mouths as they engaged in a deep kiss. She sighed into his throat, shutting her eyes and remembering again just why and how much she adored this man. He had the technique and the finesse, of course, conferred by years of practice, but he also had such a sensual nature, a genuine love of the amorous arts. Patrick, by contrast, was more boisterous, perhaps a little rough at times, but in his case, the passion that caused it was also so appealing that she wouldn’t have had him any other way.
She opened one eye, wondering where Patrick was, and noticed him standing rather awkwardly outside the vast shower cubicle, fiddling with the towels on the heated rail.
“How do we do this?” she asked Jay under her breath, emerging from the kiss and blinking drips out of her eyes. “One at a time? Taking turns?”
“Oh, no, I think there’s room for all of us,” he decreed, extending a hand to the door and shouting at Patrick to get his pert arse into the shower before he poked his eye out with his erection.
Patrick, who was always observant of correct etiquette, and might be forgiven for struggling with the concept of what might pass for it in this situation, grinned with relief and joined his friends.
Elyssa was standing with her back against Jay, leaning into his chest while he massaged exotically scented shampoo into her scalp. His fingers had magical properties, unlocking every knot of tension in her neck and shoulders while the suds flowed down her back, and she thought she would always insist that he washed her hair for her from now on.
“Grab the shower gel and give her a wash,” Jay suggested, though his suggestions were almost always orders. Perhaps he sensed that Patrick, always so proper and traditional in his outlook, would have more difficulty getting into the flow than either he or Elyssa. Even if he didn’t, a gentle shove along the way might not go amiss.