Free Inside Heat by Roz Lee Page B

or three humans of reasonable proportions. Water sluiced down her back as she raised her face to the spray and rinsed the conditioner from her hair. Saying Jeff and Jason were built in reasonable proportions might be understating things. She hadn’t had much time to examine their bodies, but what she’d seen, and touched, had her rethinking her estimate. She’d managed to wrap her hands around them for a brief time, but it hadn’t lasted long. They’d both allowed her to play for a minute, no more, before they’d lifted her hand and started in on making her lose her mind again.
    She dressed in the jeans and T-shirt she’d brought for the day, towel-dried her hair and pulled it into a high ponytail. Her hosts had thought of the basics, but apparently, that didn’t include a hair dryer. She hastily dabbed on some mascara, and patted some balm on her lips, still tender from the previous night’s workout. Her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror gave her pause. What was she doing here? She straightened and looked around the custom-built bathroom. A chill swept through her, and she had to clutch the counter to keep from falling.
    They’d planned to have a relationship with a woman. One woman. Even though they’d said as much, it really hadn’t sunk in. Until now. They’d had the house built with this in mind. Megan made her way to the door and leaned against the doorjamb, studying the bedroom as if she’d never seen it before. The custom bed, the dimensions of the room all made sense now, and the chill shivering through her body turned to a cold, hard lump of apprehension.
    What were they looking for, really? Had they brought her here hoping the house, their wealth, the luxurious lifestyle would seduce her into becoming… What? Being kept as someone’s sex toy wasn’t anything she’d ever dreamed of.
    Sure, she’d hoped one day to find the right man, someone who respected her, someone who would applaud her accomplishments, and love her. That part was essential – the love part.
    But this wasn’t about love. This was about sex. And she was virtually their prisoner here. Apprehension gave way to anger, at herself for not insisting on driving herself, and then for agreeing to come in the first place. This wasn’t her. She didn’t let men run her life, and she wasn’t desperate enough for sex, no matter how good it was, to give up everything she’d worked for to be someone’s live in plaything.
    She grabbed her overnight bag and opened the door. The sun had risen enough to illuminate the sitting room through the skylights. The doors to Jeff and Jason’s rooms were closed with no telltale sliver of light showing beneath them. They’d be up soon, or so they’d said. They had a one o’clock game, which meant they had to be at the stadium in a few hours. Since her only choices were to steal a car, or wait for them to get up and arrange for her transportation home, she banked her anger and headed for the kitchen. Coffee would go a long way toward calming her nerves.
    She’d barely noticed the kitchen the day before. Now, she took the time to admire it. Someone who knew what they were doing had designed it. Acres of granite-topped counters and custom cabinets flanked restaurant-quality appliances. They might not do much cooking, but it wasn’t because they lacked the facilities. Any gourmet chef would be happy to call this kitchen home.
    Megan opened a few cabinets before she found a box of tiny, foil-covered plastic cups that said they were coffee. More searching produced a fancy coffee maker designed for their use. It took some experimentation and a few false starts before she figured out how to use the machine, but once she had a cup in her hands, and caffeine surging through her system, she began to calm.
    She would just tell them she wanted to go home, and that would be that. They wouldn’t hold her to staying any longer, especially after she told them she wasn’t going to be their plaything. She