“Where is he staying?”
“I offered him the guest room.” Mac picked up his fork and dug into his scrambled eggs. “He should be here a week or so. Are you okay with that?”
He watched the question form on her lips before she bit it back, and he knew what was on her mind. Was Jethro visiting with sexual intent or only for friendship?
He gave her credit that she didn’t actually ask the question. He hadn’t expected her to have the self-control. Keiley was a curious little cat at times, so her restraint surprised him.
She picked at her food as he ate, glancing up at him often as he felt her thinking. Hell, it was damned disconcerting knowing how close they were at times. So close that he could feel that quick little mind of hers working.
“You still haven’t told me why we didn’t have sex last night,” she retorted as they finished eating. “You turned over like all you wanted to do was sleep, then slipped out of our bed hours later. You’re going to give me a complex.”
“Sex in the bed tempts me too far,” he told her calmly, watching her expression closely. “A quickie against the tractor is easier to control.”
“Excuse me?”
Mac stood to his feet. “You heard me, Keiley. If I don’t have sex with you in the bed, then I’m not nearly as tempted to turn you over and paddle that tight little ass of yours until it’s blushing and you’re screaming in arousal. And I’m sure as hell not as tempted to tie you to the bedposts and make you beg for acts you’ve never shown an interest in. Until I get a handle on that, then I suggest you stop challenging me to do it. Because as I said, you’re going to get a hell of a lot more than you’re bargaining for. Now, I have work to do.” He leaned across the table and kissed her parted lips. “I love you, babe. But if I don’t get the hell out of here, I might end up f**king your ass, literally, on the breakfast table and to hell with shocking your innocence. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Keiley could only stare in shock across the table at where Mac had been. He had made those statements calmly. As though he were discussing no more than the weather. As though those acts were commonplace within their marriage.
They weren’t.
Mac had never dared spank her. And he had never, ever mentioned tying her to the bed. And anal sex? Anal sex?
She waved her hand over her flushed face as she stared at her half-eaten breakfast with wide eyes. Mac was definitely showing a side of himself she hadn’t anticipated. A side that excited her. It made her nervous, but it excited her.
The information that Jethro Riggs was arriving for a week had done more than shock her, though. It had left her speechless. Jethro was Mac’s partner and best friend in the Bureau; he was also Mac’s third in the sexual games he had played before marrying her.
Mac and Jethro were the “Trojan Duo” of choice among the women who knew the men and their sexual preference for a ménage. Jethro was as dark-haired as Mac, with a bad-boy smile and a wicked twinkle in his eyes.
He had teased her steadily during the wedding reception. At one point, he had made the comment to Mac that if she got bored during the honeymoon he would be more than happy to fly out and help Mac keep her company.
Keiley had known what he was talking about at the time and had checked around quickly to make certain no one else had overheard him. She hadn’t gotten up the nerve to actually question Mac about the rumors of his sexual games until nearly six months after their marriage, though.
A part of her, she admitted, hadn’t really wanted to know the truth. But some imp inside her had pushed and pushed until she questioned him about it.
It’s in the past, Kei. That had been his only response, but the flicker of regret in his eyes had terrified her at the time.
She had dropped the subject just as quickly, and several weeks later, when he announced his intention to resign and return to his hometown and the farm, she had felt a sense of relief that had been nearly weakening.
The gossip concerning them had been heavy at the time. Those who seemed to know about Sinclair’s Club had seemed certain that Mac would return to it. For something that was supposed to be quiet, private, there was enough gossip about the men’s club to fill a full-length book.
A disgruntled wife had begun the tales several years before Keiley had met Mac, and over time, names associated with the membership began to filter through D.C. and Alexandria. No one had any true proof, but there was enough talk that at the time Keiley had wondered if proof mattered to any of them.
And that was what terrified her. The fact that proof wasn’t needed, only supposition. The fact that Mac had retained his membership for several months after their marriage only fueled the talk. Sometimes he met there for business or for drinks with his friends. Each time he returned he had been quiet, brooding.
At the time, rumor was that bets were being placed on who Mac would eventually approach to bring to their bed as the third for her first ménage.
The gossip was the worst part. Whispers behind her back. Veiled comments that she could never fully confront. Smug smiles from the men and a glimmer of jealous snappishness in the women. Things she could have ignored if she hadn’t suspected the truth behind them.
Standing up, Keiley cleared the kitchen table, loaded the dishwasher, and stood in the middle of the kitchen as she tried to figure out how to handle this.
The best bet was to confront Mac about it. Just ask him about it. He wouldn’t lie to her if she asked him straight out if he intended to invite Jethro into their bed.
Another part of her warned her to stay silent. If she didn’t push the subject, then neither would he. If Jethro was visiting on the off chance of being the third in their bed, then Mac would hold back if she pretended ignorance.
If she could pretend ignorance.
She waved her hand before her face again, realizing that she was overheating, flushing from her thoughts and the images her mind was suddenly flashing before her.