Free Sexual Healing for Three by Gracie C. Mckeever Page A

being the farm settler’s kidnapped wife when she and her brothers played cowboys and Indians, gave her pause.
    She closed her eyes at the idea of being tied to the boys’ makeshift stake, how she’d enjoyed tugging against the light bonds and fantasized about firmer restraints and something more that she couldn’t even put a name to.
    Donna snapped her eyes open to see Russ staring at her and realized she was fidgeting in her seat again.

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    Gracie C. McKeever
    He frowned. “Are you all right?”
    “Just a little light-headed. I really should get something to eat.”
    He turned to his left to retrieve a Styrofoam plate piled with brown rice, grilled peppers, onions, shrimp shish kebab, a dollop of potato salad, and green salad. “Here you go.”
    “Thank you.” She took the offering and knew Angela had something to do with it before he added, “Your sister said these were your favorites. I’m sorry I didn’t hand it to you earlier. I got distracted by our conversation.”
    She stopped herself from fidgeting, the snug jeans she was wearing suddenly too restrictive. Her moistened pussy throbbed, aching to be free and caressed.
    She wondered fleetingly if her sister had put some sort of spell on her but knew the only spell she was under was that of deprivation, one she had cast on herself.
    Donna turned to the bar to dig into her plate just as Russ dug into his own plate. She was surprised her sister had included onions in her meal since it would deter any kissing between her and Russ or Chance, except Russ was eating onions too. Great, so they would have stinky breath together. Didn’t mean they had to swap spit, though.
    She realized she didn’t have a fork at the same instant Russ offered her one. “Thanks,” she murmured, feeling unusually shy. It wasn’t like she was on a date with him, despite Angela’s setting them up.
    “So, how well do you know my brother?”
    I don’t know him as well as I’d like.
    Donna almost said it out loud, barely missed choking on the bite of shrimp she had taken before swallowing to say, “We met several months ago at a seminar I conducted. We’ve seen each other in a business capacity at the hospital regularly ever since.”
    She watched Russ cut into his steak, bring the medium-rare piece of meat to his mouth, and pause as he watched her watching him. He Sexual Healing for Three
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    plucked the meat off the fork with straight white teeth that Donna could just imagine nibbling the tender skin of her throat or inner thighs. She didn’t stop here, rudely watching him chew, admiring his full lips and strong jaw, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.
    He and Chance may not have looked much alike, or shared the same taste in food, but they had the same full, kissable lips.
    “What kind of seminar?”
    “Huh?” She snapped her gaze back to his, caught in the act of following a trail of perspiration as it slid down his strong, olive-toned throat. She saw his smile and realized that he knew she had been watching him and that he enjoyed being the cynosure.
    Oh yeah, this one was arrogant, had all the makings of a domineering leader. She knew the type, had been dealing with his kind for years.
    “The seminar?” Russ prompted.
    “It was on domestic abuse—how to spot the signs and what actions to take once you do.”
    “You work at the hospital then?”
    His gray gaze never left her face. His expression was attentive and intense, as if he was interested in what she had to say. Maybe that was why she opened up to say, “Actually, no. I’m a social worker by trade and the CEO at Safe Haven. It’s a domestic abuse shelter.”
    “I’ve heard of it.”
    “Really? How?” It’s not like it was common knowledge to the average Joe or Jane. Unless someone was intimately affected by the effects of domestic abuse, there was no reason for someone to know about a place like Safe Haven. And most men, other than social workers or police, would never have a reason