Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore by Kaitlin Maitland

problem. Not yours.”
    “Until his family fails to do something about him, and he injures someone else.” Dante brushed a kiss against Suri’s neck. “He’s the reason she was in here drinking last night too.”
    The thought that one series of randomly related events could possibly be responsible for the three of them becoming involved in this strange three-way relationship was mind-boggling. Jericho stood stock-still for several moments, trying to reconcile it.
    “Turn off the lights and come to bed, Jericho. You’re not going to solve the world’s problems tonight.”
    He didn’t bother addressing Dante’s ridiculous statement. Instead, he picked up a remote from its spot on a delicate scrolled table and dimmed the lights until they were nothing more than a soft glow. Stripping out of his clothing, he climbed into the massive bed.
    There was a certain erotic thrill to feeling the sheets on his naked skin. Dante’s heat radiated from Suri’s other side. Jericho moved in closer, careful not to wake her. She had already thrown one leg over Dante’s body and was using his shoulder as a pillow. When Jericho curled up against her back, she burrowed in deeper and wound her arm around his. When he realized the hand he’d flung around her was laying low on Dante’s belly, he didn’t move it. It felt too good to be wrapped around their warmth.

Chapter Nine
    Suri wondered if it was possible for a good dream to combat the effects of a crappy mattress. She’d never dreamed herself into a toasty warm apartment with a featherbed before, but there was no doubt that was where she was. She struggled to sink back into sleep, dreading the moment her alarm would go off. That would guarantee an instant return to her frigid bedroom, sagging mattress, and the crabby sister whose own single bed shared the tiny space.
    “Good morning, princess. It’s all right to wake up, although you’re welcome to go back to sleep if you’d like.”
    Dante’s velvet baritone brought her fully awake like a bucket of ice water thrown in her face. Suri sat straight up, yelping when she had to grab the sheet to cover her bare breasts.
    “It’s a little late to be shy, don’t you think?” Dante tugged the sheet down and cupped her breast. When he brushed the pad of his thumb across her nipple, she let out an unconscious sigh of pleasure.
    “See, I know what you like.” Dante continued to stroke her, shifting his body and replacing his thumb with his mouth.
    It felt so good! She groaned, unable to stop herself from leaning into the attention. She pushed her breast into his mouth until he was sucking hard, and her clit throbbed in response. At some point she became aware of another body in the bed, on her other side.
    Dante let go of her breast. “He’s a fairly heavy sleeper.”
    “We—all three of us—shared this bed?” It was obviously true, but she wanted confirmation anyway.
    He lounged back on the pillows with a grin of total satisfaction on his face. “You were asleep when we got back last night. It seemed better to climb in beside you than wake you up.”
    “It’s probably the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on.” She figured there was no harm in telling the truth.
    “And the company?”
    Her gaze lingered over each muscle in Dante’s torso, the grooves that had been painstakingly etched by nature. “I think I could get used to that too.”
    “Should we wake him up?” With his scar, the playful grin on Dante’s face was almost predatory.
    Suri twisted around to stare at Jericho. He looked so peaceful she hated to disturb him. He lay on his back with one arm thrown up over his head and the other resting on his stomach. His olive-toned skin was free of body hair but carried several scars. A crosshatch of pale lines on his right bicep, a long slash over the right side of his ribs, and a quarter-sized raised scar on his left shoulder that looked like it might actually be from a gunshot. What kind of life had he been