Daniel notices. “It’s just a rug,” he suggests. “Come here, and I’ll give you something else to moan about.”
I don’t reply right away, and Sebastian grins at me. “Cat got your tongue, Bailey?” he teases. “I didn’t see you at a loss for words earlier when you were busy yelling at us.”
At that, I have to laugh. “It’s the red hair,” I tell him. “All my life, I’ve tried not to be the hot-tempered redhead, but I actually enjoyed giving you guys a piece of my mind.”
They both chuckle. The sex on the couch has dissipated some of the fierce tension between the three of us. The vodka has played its part as well, as has the excellent tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich that Sebastian made us.
“Come here,” I order Sebastian, sinking on the bed and leaning against Daniel. “I want to look at your tattoos.”
He moves closer and I peer at them, my fingers reaching out to trace the ink on his skin. “A dragon and a phoenix?”
“Mmm.”
“Is there a story?”
Daniel smiles at that. “There’s always a story, Bailey,” he says, his fingers stroking a path on my thighs. “Given your line of work, I thought you’d know that.”
It takes difficulty to resist the urge to climb on top of him like a horny monkey. “I’m an anthropologist, not a journalist,” I point out, realizing just an instant too late that mentioning the press around Daniel might not be a good idea.
He remains relaxed, and his hands don’t pull away from my waist. “For work, I research the stories that bind us together. But for fun,” my finger follows the flame of the dragon toward Sebastian’s chest, “I ask hot naked guys to tell me about their tattoos.”
Sebastian sits on the other side of me, and I feel his solid warmth at my side. “I got the dragon when I left home,” he says. Something in his expression warns me against prying more. “And the phoenix six months after I opened my first restaurant.”
“No tattoo for the Michelin stars?”
He shakes his head. “The tattoos,” he explains, “are for moments of personal clarity and growth. Michelin stars are great, but not tattoo worthy.”
“You’ve had two moments of personal clarity in your entire life?” I tease, trying to ignore that Daniel’s fingers are climbing higher on my thigh. “How old are you, Sebastian? You seem to be due for another.”
He grins at that, then his smile fades. “What?” I ask him.
“I was just thinking about your friend,” he says. “The chef at Aladdin's Lamp. Piper, isn’t that her name?”
I stiffen. “Sheesh. Yes, I do want to hear that you are thinking about my hot roommate when we are naked in bed,” I say, trying to bury the faint hurt under sarcasm. “Smooth.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’m in bed with the woman I want to be with,” he says impatiently, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling me close to him to press a hard, passionate kiss on my lips. “I was thinking of her restaurant struggles,” he clarifies when we pull apart. “I’d had already had the benefit of apprenticing under several leading chefs when I opened Seb New York, and the first six months were still insanely difficult. But Piper’s fresh off culinary school, isn’t she?”
I’m mollified by his kiss and touched by his concern for my friend. “Yeah,” I confirm. “She had this crazy aunt who left her the restaurant in the will, but it came with a hundred different conditions. Piper’s already sunk all kinds of money into the place.”
“Would she be receptive to some help?” he asks. “I’ve some friends in the industry who are always looking for new ventures to invest in. They could give her some advice, if she’s interested.”
“What about you? Won’t that hurt you if you send potential investors to Piper?”
He laughs. “Bailey, I have no shortage of people wanting to invest in me. Besides, my best friend is pretty fucking rich.”
Of course. I slant a look at Daniel. “You guys have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?”