Triple Threat by Regina Kyle

pulling her jeans and underwear down her legs to her ankles. She helped him by kicking off her ballet flats so he could remove them completely, leaving her prone, half-naked and vulnerable before him.
    And just like that, her insecurities reared up. Nick had been great so far, a thoughtful and generous lover. But Clark had been great, too, at first. A lump formed in the pit of her stomach. Although she and Nick had known each other for years, she didn’t really know him at all.
    She grabbed one of the pillows and held it in front of her, shielding herself from those sinful chocolate eyes that were raking her up and down, making her flesh tingle from head to toe. “Nick, I...”
    “What’s wrong, babe?” In an instant, his eyes changed from wicked to worried, making her heart twist. She almost chucked the pillow on the floor and threw herself at him. Almost. But her old fears stood in her way like an impenetrable wall.
    “I just...I can’t—”
    “It’s okay,” he cut in softly, sitting up beside her and giving her a little much-appreciated breathing room. “I’ll stop if you want me to. I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed, but I’ll stop. Just give me the word.”
    She’d give him the word, all right. Goodbye. Adios. Sayonara. That was what her head was telling her to say. But apparently her wayward heart had gained control of her mouth, because when she opened it the word that came out was “Snicklefritz.”
    “Snicklefritz?” he repeated, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.
    “My therapist suggested I pick a safe word,” she explained. “It’s from a book I read as a kid.”
    If he wondered why she needed a therapist—or a safe word—he didn’t let on. Instead, he merely nodded and said, “Snicklefritz it is, then.”
    “So, if I say it, we’ll stop?” she asked, a seed of trust beginning to sprout deep inside her.
    “I swear.” He held up three fingers as if taking the Boy Scout oath.
    With those two little words, her anxiety evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “I seriously doubt you were ever a Boy Scout,” she said, relaxing her death grip on the pillow and allowing herself to smile.
    “No, I wasn’t,” he admitted, deadly serious now, his eyes intent and his mouth firm. “But I am a man of honor. And as much as I want to take you every which way imaginable, I promise to stop the minute you say so.”
    A man of honor. Ultimately, that was what separated Nick from Clark. There wasn’t an honorable bone in Clark’s miserable body. But somehow she knew Nick would keep his word.
    Slowly, she released the pillow and let it fall to the side, baring herself once again for his appraisal. “Thank you,” she whispered, the heat within her reigniting as his eyes swept over her. How could this man affect her so swiftly and so strongly? She felt like a kind of human sports car capable of going from zero to ready-and-willing in no time flat.
    “No, sweetheart,” Nick countered, lowering himself over her and planting a soft kiss on her hip. “Thank you. ”
    His hands moved to her inner thighs, gently pushing them apart. She knew what was coming next but still wasn’t prepared for the delicious sensation of his mouth closing around her, the stubble of his beard scraping over her damp curls. With each swipe of his tongue he brought her closer to fulfillment. When he focused his attention on her clitoris, sucking on the sensitive nub and drawing it between his teeth to tug lightly, she flew apart with a cry of pleasure that echoed throughout the bedroom, the word Snicklefritz nothing more than a distant memory.

8
    N ICK LOVED WOMEN . He loved their sweet smell, their smooth skin, their silky hair. He especially loved pleasing them, hearing their soft moans and watching them buck and writhe as they came in his arms.
    He’d had his share of women since he lost his virginity at sixteen to the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad under the bleachers in the gym. He liked