MY TWO DOMS: HOT HARD MENAGE #3 by Erika Masten Read Free Book Online Page B

at the top of his porch steps.
    “Oh, there you are. I
didn’t realize you were home.” Or I would
have hidden in my house until dark.
    “Did they mix up our
mail again?” he asks, and I let out a strained chuckle and nod.
    The relaxed smile on
Matthew’s tanned face says he doesn’t suspect how badly I’ve embarrassed us
both. I don’t see how he can look so graceful draped like that, hands in the
pockets of his black pants, meaty arms bared by his chest-hugging white polo
shirt. Thank god for casual Fridays. The man is built like a brick wall—wide,
hard, rough, unbreakable.
    My heels clack too
loudly for my comfort as I reluctantly navigate the winding stone walk up to
his porch. Matthew comes down the steps to meet me, gentleman that he is.
    I hesitate a second,
avoiding his dark eyes and focusing instead on his pale, full lips, surrounded
by a light brown mustache and beard that are more like heavy stubble and too
damn sexy by half. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I accidentally opened it,” I blurt as I
hand him the magazine and hurry to fold my arms over my chest, to hide the
telltale points of my peaked nipples. Nice, Zoe. So much for trying to claim it
got torn open in transit.
    My gaze shifts down to
his large hands and long, deft fingers as he flips back the cover to see what
magazine it is.
    “Ah,” he says. It’s a
clipped, surprised sound. “Well, thanks for bringing it over, Zoe.”
    He does sound
embarrassed, which is just breaking my heart. I gulp a deep breath and force
myself to look him in the eye. “I don’t mind,” I insist. “You’ve had to bring
your share of misplaced Cosmo and Vogue magazines to me.” With shock, I realize
I’m gesturing with wide motions as I talk, a old nervous habit of mine. Before
I know it, Matthew’s gaze has slipped down my flushed face and neck to my tits
and the rigid nipples showing him just how arousing I found the magazine. While
I babble on, his grin gets wider, but he graciously looks away.
    When I pause for a
breath, Matthew motions toward his front door with his head. “Let’s get out of
the heat. Come in for a cold drink.”
    Both crestfallen that I
tattled on myself so obviously and relieved that he’s handling the situation
with humor and his usual affable demeanor, I sigh and nod and follow him into
his quaint little white two-story with its slate blue door. In the cool, dim
kitchen, all stylish white and black, I pop up onto one of the stools at the
island counter and try not to melt into a puddle of depression over my
graceless behavior. Matthew rustles through the huge black fridge, then grabs a
glass from the cupboard. I distract myself by staring at his muscular back and
firm ass.
    Instead of a soda or
lemonade, he sets a glass of chilled chardonnay down on the white tile in front
of me.
    “Bless you,” I sigh out
and down a third of the glass before I can contain myself.
    Matthew leans against
the counter beside me, all six-foot-three of him towering over me. “Looks like
someone had a long week.”
    I hurry to swallow the
wine in my mouth. “Between the audit at work and my ex, definitely.”
    “He’s still bothering
you? You know, Noah and I could have a word with him the next time he shows
up.”
    And I know they would,
if I asked. Shit, why are all the good ones taken or gay, or both?
    Still, I shake my head
and wave the suggestion away. “He’ll get bored, eventually, and go off to
torment some other woman with an unfortunate affinity for domineering,
belittling, unfaithful assholes.”
    Matthew perks his brow
and smirks, dark eyes twinkling. Yeah, I know I have a flair with ranting. The
wine isn’t helping. The first glass is already gone, and he pours me another.
    I’d like to say the
wine made me do it, but I’m not that much of a lightweight. It’s that Matthew
is so near, and so tall, and I can still see that damn magazine cover in my
head.
    “So, can I ask you a
personal question?” I don’t wait for him to