Free With Strings Attached by Kelly Jamieson Page B

the fiery intensity in his eyes and the bond between them made her heart trip. He wanted her too. And a fierce warmth bloomed in her chest because, dammit, she cared about him. And—she closed her eyes briefly against the surge of lust—she wanted him too.
    What kind of girl was she, to stand in a room with two guys and imagine having sex with both of them? She licked her lips and swallowed hard.
    Then Matt, trust him, broke the tension. “Jesus, I thought for a minute I was gonna have to look at your dick,” he said to Dylan. “The sight might scar me for life.” He picked up the platter with the steaks. “Let’s get these babies cooking or we’ll be eating at midnight.”
    He headed toward the door and Corey watched him walk away, watched his tight butt, the hard muscles of his broad back and shoulders. She turned and looked at Dylan, who arched one eyebrow. “C’mere,” he said softly. He extended a big, tanned hand. She moved toward him, not taking his hand, but when she got close enough he rested his hand on her hip. “You feeling that too?”
    She didn’t need to ask what he meant, wasn’t going to play games. “Yeah.”
    He nodded and she watched his face, his sexy, smiling mouth, the way his dark eyelashes brushed down over eyes silvery-gray like the ocean on a cloudy day, then up. Her body melted toward him. He lifted his other hand to her cheek, rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. “What are we going to do about this?”
    Now she did need to ask. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean about you…and me…and Matt.”
    She blinked. “Um…”
    “I know you two keep saying you’re just friends,” he continued, his voice silky smooth and low, his hand still on her face. “But there’s an awful lot of heat between you.”
    “Yes.” She closed her eyes and turned her cheek farther into his palm. “I don’t want…oh geez. This is kind of complicated.”
    She opened her eyes and met his gaze again. His lips curled into a wry smile. “Yeah. It is. Dammit.”
    She licked her lips again and moved away from him, tugging her T-shirt down.
    “He’s my best buddy,” Dylan said.
    “Mine too.”
    Their eyes met and held in a stretched-out moment. She bent her head for a moment, then lifted it and smiled brightly. “I better start these potatoes.”
    She lifted the pot onto the stove with a clang, barely aware of what she was doing, her mind and body buzzing with sexual electricity and confusion. She and Matt were just friends. They’d agreed, after that night they’d ended up in bed together, that there would be no strings attached to their relationship. They’d hang out and have fun like they always had, and sometimes if they both felt like it, they’d have sex. Which turned out to be quite often. She sank her teeth into her lower lip.
    But they’d been clear that they were each free to see other people. So if she wanted to have a little fling with Dylan while he was there, that was okay. She didn’t need to worry about Matt or hurting his feelings.
    But she was worried about hurting his feelings. Her insides twisted into knots, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, hands clenched into fists on the edge of the stove. Why was she so worried? He wasn’t in love with her or anything. He could just as easily be seeing some other girl.
    She knew he wasn’t.
    Taking a deep breath she turned back to face Dylan, who had his head bent, focused on cutting up the vegetables for Matt to roast on the grill. His eyes flickered as she turned and she knew he’d been watching her.
    “What can I help with?” she asked.
    He pushed a red pepper toward her. “Here, you can cut this up.”
    They chopped vegetables and Matt came back and helped, as usual vaporizing any lingering tension with a couple of joking remarks, and they all had another beer and stood around the barbecue while Matt cooked. And Corey could almost forget that moment of intense fever-like heat that had been burning up the