Free Complete Bliss (a Her Billionaires novella #3) by Julia Kent

speak Chinese. “We git ourselves zome hometown good-ole-boy ztories!”
    Darla’s face fell into a mask of cold anger. “You sound like Hitler on acid when you do that. I do not sound like that.”
    “You sound close enough.”
    “No, she doesn’t,” Trevor added, coming to her defense. Her accent was slight. Not as broad as it had been when she’d moved to Boston to join them. It wasn’t even that there was a strong difference in how they pronounced words, but more her lazy use of grammar, her little colloquial sayings, and the tendency to drop the “g” at the ends of words when she got excited or upset.
    As her voice became more cultured he found himself wistful for the broad, open mouth she’d had when they met.
    Except right now that mouth was aimed at him and Joe, and boy was she letting ’er rip.
    “Yes, she does.” Joe stood abruptly and threw on a pair of jeans, tucking his junk down so he didn’t pull a There’s Something About Mary moment and zip himself in pain.  
    “No, she—wait!” Trevor barked, eyes on Darla’s face this time, tempting as her tits were. “We’re not sitting at a table across from Thor and Angry Firefighter and pouring out our feelings and shit.”
    “I never said that’s what you’d—”
    Joe and Trevor snorted at the same time, the sound like melody and harmony, in perfect tune. Darla was outnumbered here. Whatever plan she was hatching was so outrageous that Trevor couldn’t even fathom why she’d want him and Joe to get together with—
    Ah. Got it.
    “You think because they’re in a threesome we need to have a therapy session with some old dudes who have been there, done that, fallen off the bed during DP and have the scars to prove it?”
    This time Joe snorted alone.
    “Because I am not talking about what we do with anyone. This is us . This is private. This is”—Trevor’s hands twitched and curled into questioning fists—“this is whatever it is, but it’s not something anyone else has. It doesn’t need to be analyzed or dissected or picked apart, damn it.” His voice went low. “And besides, why the hell would two billionaires give a fucking shit about what their employee’s boyfriends do?” 
    He expected Darla to pause, to be shocked into silence, to do anything but what she did next. “See? See there? Right there? Boyfriends. Zzzzz. With an ‘s.’ Who in the ever-loving hell has boyfriend s ? And I don’t mean the women who fuck two men in serial—I mean who fucks men in parallel and has a relationship that’s all about balance and meeting two men’s needs while—” Her voice hitched and she stopped, eyes shining with unspilled tears, and Trevor’s heart folded in on itself in that moment.
    Fuck.
    “So”—she sniffed, a sob in her throat so loud it made Joe and Trevor share a look of worry—“forgive me for wanting you to talk to the only two fucking human beings on the planet who might have a goddamned clue what to do and how to be like this. It ain’t working right now with Joe’s jealousy.”
    “I’m not—”
    “And quit denying you’re jealous, because you walk around like a puckered butthole that just got bleached and treated to road rash,” she added.
    Trevor’s anus clenched involuntarily at her words. The woman could use vocabulary the way martial artists used nunchucks—with great skill, well-honed instinct, and ruthless efficiency. 
    Joe’s look almost made Trevor laugh, and he would have if he weren’t filled with a swirl of emotion. Too many things were being thrown out there like emotional debris after a wrecking ball hit the wrong building, and being naked and watching Darla’s lush, creamy nude body in the middle of the chaos didn’t help either. Trevor had a limit, and it had been reached in every possible way—emotionally, sexually, physically.
    Joe spoke. “You can be such a—” The room turned to a freezer. Joe was about to call Darla a name, and Trevor jumped in front of her as if he