Tymber Dalton - Love Slave for Two

“Get your arse out of bed. She’ll be here soon.” Tyler’s clipped British accent spoke volumes. He only sounded that pissed when he was…well, pissed. Over eleven years together had taught Thomas that much.

Thomas rolled over and looked at Tyler. “What time is it?” he grumped.

“Seven-thirty, you silly sod. You had to stay up watching that movie.” Tyler stormed out of their bedroom. Thomas smelled coffee, the good stuff, the caramel truffle flavor Nevvie loved.

“Okay, I’m up.” He would be once Nevvie showed, for sure.

He stumbled to the shower and heard the bathroom door open after he stepped under the spray.

“Here’s your coffee.” Thomas jumped when Tyler goosed his ass.

“Watch it, I nearly slipped.”

“Well, we could have showered together had you gotten up at a decent hour.”

Tyler left, closing the door behind him.

Nevaeh Barton. Their once-a-week housekeeper. Six months, and she still had no clue she had them eating out of her hand. Just thinking about her made him hard. He knew Ty would be sporting wood for her, too.

He finished his shower, shaved, and checked his watch—ten till. No problem, she wasn’t there yet. He sipped his coffee and grabbed a pair of loose shorts from the drawer. Underwear? Hell no, commando today. Thursday was Nevvie Day, the center of their universe.

Thomas walked into the kitchen, where Tyler was putting the finishing touches on a plate of fruit. He leaned in and kissed him. “Look, I’m up.”

“No shirt?” Tyler always dressed up for Nevvie. Today a light blue chambray shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and tan slacks. Barefoot, his only concession to casual.

“I thought maybe she’d like to see me au naturale.”

Tyler’s mood lightened. “She leaves here today, I’d damn well better see you au naturale.”

“See? It’s working already.”

They heard her car in the drive and grinned. “It’s Nevvie time!”

Nevaeh Barton relished Thursdays. Not that she enjoyed cleaning so much as she enjoyed the clients. Tyler Paulson and Thomas Kinsey were cute. Thank God Alex never drove her on Thursdays. He’d force her to drop them.

That’s the last thing she wanted.

They were sweethearts, and so what if they were gay? Scratch cute—make that gorgeous. Tyler’s British accent and incredibly blue eyes always melted her. Thomas’ soft, sensual Georgia drawl and smoldering deep brown bedroom eyes invoked images of iced tea and pecan pie, among other things. She left their home late every Thursday afternoon feeling attractive and alive. It didn’t matter she spent the whole day working. She also spent it laughing. Both men were usually there. Most Thursdays it was the three of them having a ball, her and her two sweet love gods.

Making her wish she didn’t have to go home to Alex’s surly mug. She’d only told him they were two gay guys, one a writer, the other an architect. He never asked anything else once he heard “gay.”

But she wondered if there was more. At first she thought she imagined the boys watched her while she worked. After her third week she was sure of it. It might creep others out, but it flattered her that they seemed to find her attractive.

Especially since Alex kept harping on her to lose weight. “Her boys” always piled on the compliments. She wasn’t obese but she wasn’t a waif who’d blow over in a stiff breeze, either. She’d long since come to terms with her voluptuous figure, although she wished more of it had settled on her chest instead of around her hips and thighs. Screw what Alex thought, she was in shape—pear was a shape, right?

Not to mention Alex had no room to talk.

Driving into their development always lifted her spirits even if she was embarrassed to be seen in Alex’s craptacular beater, a Ford Escort she’d put to sleep if it was a dog. Her boys lived in a quiet, upscale community in New Tampa. Only a couple of miles from her apartment, it might as well be another planet. Well-kept houses and lawns and expensive cars formed a stark contrast to the dump she went home to.

She parked behind Thomas’ blue Honda Ridgeline truck and Tyler’s black Lexus LS460L sedan, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Her heart raced in anticipation of seeing “her boys.”

It was only her dynamite fantasies of “TnT” that had allowed her to make it through sex with Alex the few times she couldn’t bluff her way out of it. Luckily for her she’d managed to get out of it for over two months. Sometimes she had to give him a hand job—a small price to pay, all things considered.

Landing this job was the best thing to happen in years. She never should have left Tampa in the first place. Moving to New Orleans seemed like a good idea at the time.

She met Alex while working at a hotel near the French Quarter. When an uninvited guest by the name of Katrina headed their way, they evacuated east on I-10 to Pensacola. Their small apartment in Chalmette was gone after the waters receded. A call to their landlord left Nevvie in tears that she hadn’t taken things like treasured books and photos, but Alex had to have room in the tiny Escort for his TV and Xbox.

Nothing to return to, they drove to Tampa and crashed with one of Nevvie’s cousins for a couple of weeks until they ended up in the Bellaire Arms Apartments in SuitcaseCity, minutes from the University of South Florida. Not as nice as the Chalmette apartment, and that had been no swanky pad.

Alex worked when he felt like it. She should leave him, but it wasn’t worth the aggravation of starting over—again. Not when she wanted no contact with most of the people in her family.

At least she had Thursdays.

Tyler swooped when Nevvie walked through the front door. “There’s the birthday girl!”

He enveloped her in a hug and spun her around. He loved putting his arms around her any chance he got. Thomas was his soul mate, but just because he’d decided to settle with a guy didn’t mean he didn’t have a soft spot in his heart for women.

Hell, he had two ex-wives to prove it.

“Hi, Tyler.” She hugged him back.

He was hesitant to release her. While three inches shorter than his five-seven, Nevvie’s rounded curves and long legs inspired visions of her in tall heels and a short, tight skirt that would hug her thighs, her hips swaying back and forth…

And there was his woody.

He took her hand. “Close those beautiful green eyes, love. We’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh, Tyler, you shouldn’t—”

“We should, and we did.”

Her full lips curled in a hesitant twist that melted his heart every time. Nevvie obediently closed her eyes while he led her into the kitchen where Thomas waited, and sat her in one of the chairs.

When they were ready, Tyler said, “All right, sweetheart, open them.”

They’d fixed breakfast. Usually they made sure she had a muffin or bagel or something to nosh on, but Tyler had prepared a huge meal. A small, brightly wrapped box waited by her plate.

Tears clouded her eyes. Alex hadn’t even wished her a happy birthday. She suspected he’d either forgotten or didn’t care. Yet these two guys, clients—okay, hell, she could call them friends—had made a big deal over her.

Her!

Nevvie choked back a sob.

Thomas was closer and put his arms around her. “Happy birthday, sugar.”

She nodded, hugged him tightly, then reached for Tyler. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”