“This fight isn’t about me, or Thomkins, or the stupid law and you know it. I want her and I’m keeping her. If you’re not in, no one will know differently, but you have to be the one to tell her.”
While I’d rather share Celia with Walker—there was no question she was attuned and interested in both of us—I wasn’t giving her up. She was mine. My brother just had to decide if she belonged to him, too. If not, he owed her at least the truth.
Walker shrugged off my hand. “And let you have her all to yourself? She’s not Ruth. I know it. Fuck, when she got off the stage, it was like you’d punched me in the gut. She’s ours, Luke. No question.”
“I know what you mean.”
I did. The connection, the sense of knowing, had been instantaneous. As soon as I saw her walking down the train platform toward us, I knew. I wanted her with a craving I couldn’t explain, would never have imagined. I had to assume it was that potent for Walker as well. He wouldn’t have walked out on her otherwise. He cared enough to leave. But, hopefully he was going to commit on an even deeper level. We were both invested now.
“And yet you walked away from her,” I added.
“I walked away from how… intense this is.”
I slapped him on the shoulder. “It’s incredible, how perfect she is for us. But I’ll keep her all to myself,” I repeated. “No problem.”
He huffed. “No fucking way.”
I grinned then. It wasn’t about the law. It was about us. We both wanted her and we were both going to keep her.
“When you left, I had her all to myself,” I said, trying to rile him. It worked, because he narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at me. I held my hands up in front of me. “You had her all alone when I went to The Lucky Swan.”
One thing neither of us had considered during the three days waiting for Celia to arrive was how to prepare her to take both of us at the same time. It was the ultimate connection between us and we would not be denied. But, we would not hurt Celia either. Last night, when I’d fucked her, I realized we did not have any butt plugs to prepare her. And so I’d gone at dawn to one of the brothels in town, one that I’d frequented in the past. The owner knew me and had not only given me a small set of varying sizes of plugs, but congratulated me on my new bride.
While I didn’t tell him she also belonged to Walker, the man wouldn’t have cared. In his profession, he’d seen everything. Ménage was tame for him.
“Brother, it’s not all about fucking,” he countered, his words sharp.
I dropped my hands back to my sides, gave my brother a meaningful look. “Exactly.”
And I’d caught him, right then. His eyes widened as realization set in. This marriage wasn’t all about fucking, as he’d originally wanted. It was becoming acquainted with Celia, talking with her, discovering her interests, enjoying her, not just her body. She wasn’t just a bride, a faceless woman coming from Texas to marry us.
Walker grunted and turned about, heading back into the hotel. I grinned, thinking about our bride. While Walker was considered the intense brother, the brooder, he’d held himself back. Cautious and wary. But now that he was resolved, I wondered if our new bride could handle the full effect of Walker Tate. It was going to be enjoyable to find out.
***
Celia
“I do not need that many clothes,” I told the men as they escorted me from a ladies’ dress shop, Walker’s arms laden with wrapped parcels. Luke refused to let me leave without donning a completely new outfit, from hat to boots. Now out on the street, I had to admit the clothing was quite warm against the biting wind.
During our foray inside the shop, Walker played the role of brother-in-law while Luke filled the role of my new husband. I understood all too well that marrying two men was against the law everywhere… everywhere but Slate Springs, Colorado. I did not want to draw attention to our unusual arrangement any more than the men did.
I was still coming to terms with what I’d done. Lord, I’d spent a wild and carnal night—and morning—with both of them. Luke had fucked me and I’d orgasmed with wild abandon. Just this morning, Walker had even pressed the tip of his thumb into my bottom as Luke did magical things with his fingers in my pussy. And they’d done it together. Together! I’d had two men touching me.
The only time it seemed even the slightest bit similar to a conventional marriage was this morning when Luke had taken me while I lay on my back in bed.
But what was a conventional marriage? Had my marriage to John been conventional? Did other husbands take mistresses to their beds? I had to wonder if perhaps with Luke and Walker I was, in fact, quite lucky. I’d come three times. In five years, I’d had zero orgasms with John, so I knew what Luke, Walker and I shared was… unique.