The Layover Read online

  the layover

  Three Player Grind Book 3

  allyson lindt

  acelette press

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 by Allyson Lindt

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art by Romancepremades.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  For my eternal dragon

  contents

  1. Carly

  2. Raul (Tony)

  3. Diego (Nick)

  4. Carly (Lee)

  5. Diego (Nick)

  6. Carly (Lee)

  7. Raul

  8. Diego

  9. Carly

  10. Raul

  11. Carly

  12. Diego

  13. Raul

  14. Carly

  15. Diego

  16. Raul

  17. Carly

  18. Diego

  19. Raul

  20. Carly

  21. Raul

  22. Diego

  23. Carly

  24. Raul

  25. Diego

  26. Carly

  27. Diego

  28. Raul

  29. Carly

  30. Diego

  31. Raul

  32. Carly

  1

  carly

  A lot of people thought my life was glamorous—jetting around the world all the time. Different country every month. Different rooms. Different scenery. Different guy’s bed… With no partner or kids for me to answer to, and an empty apartment in between trips.

  Anyone who thought that was right—I loved my life.

  It was why I was sitting in the airport at eight-thirty on Monday morning, listening to the bedlam while I scanned the headlines on my phone.

  Most of the people waiting with me were doing the same, except for the two men sitting a few rows away.

  My gaze drifted to them every few seconds, not because they were sharing a phone and speaking Italian to the person on the other end of the line, but because they were h-a-w-t, and that spelled hello, sexy baby.

  Baby because they were probably a decade younger than me, and it was easier to think of them as being barely adults than remember I was turning forty-one in just a few weeks.

  They both had dark, almost black hair, and eyes in a similar color. The kind of gazes that were probably deceptive reflecting pools up close. And they both wore simple platinum bands on their left ring fingers.

  One was dressed like he was straight out of a fashion shoot—burgundy button-down shirt, dark trousers, and a suede vest, buttoned and showing off a trim and slender figure.

  The other wore jeans. His button-down was a similar color beige to the walls, but the sleeves were rolled up halfway to the elbow, leaving his thick forearms and large, rough hands on display, and highlighting the bulge of his biceps.

  I bet they were pretty when they fucked.

  I knew just enough Italian to pick out a handful of words. Combined with the snippets I heard coming from the phone they shared, it sounded like they were talking to a young girl. There was a lot of laughing and cooing and praise.

  The entire exchange made me smile, and not just because the men were easy to look at. I may be childless by choice, but I loved seeing happy, loving families. The world needed more of those.

  I turned my attention back to my own phone, and the news. Specifically, finance and industry. It could be some dry as toast shit, but I worked for an angel investor firm and had regular dealings with clients, so it helped to speak their language and have an idea of what was looming on the horizon for me.

  One of the big companies was up, one was down, one had pissed off a subset of their users, another had a data breach.

  I filed away the stories that would be global news when I reached my destination in Milan, and moved on. What books were new and hot this week? That was my kind of news. Especially those books that most people would turn their noses up at as being smutty or fantasy fulfillment for women. Like either of those were a bad thing?

  Wait, what was that?

  I flipped back to the screen I’d just left and scanned the page, looking for what had caught my eye. No. Fucker. I wanted to shout it out loud, but I settled for screaming in my head.

  Renowned Architect Curtis Webb to Make the Old New Again

  The article went on to describe how the creative and talented Dr. Webb was breathing new life into a structure in Milan, and turning it into a modern-day eatery.

  Dr. Webb only had his PhD because I’d written the bulk of his dissertation. That was young and stupid me—in my late twenties, convinced that I was unlovable because I wasn’t married yet, and happy to give my affections to any man who smiled at me and made sure I had an orgasm the first time we had sex.

  Fuck, Curtis had been an incredible lay in the early days. But a whirlwind romance, a Vegas wedding, and about six months of marriage had turned him into a basement dwelling troll who kept me around to do his laundry and his schoolwork.

  I stuck it out longer than I should’ve, thinking that I must be the problem, and when I finally sucked it up and left him, he drove that point home.

  Since then I’d learned that book boyfriends were the only good boyfriends.

  It sucked that our paths occasionally ran near each other. I was an appraiser and property evaluator, so running into renowned architects came with the territory. But for the most part, I didn’t have to talk to him, see him, or even think about Dr. Curtis Webb.

  Looked like I couldn’t avoid that this time. The property he was working on in Milan was within a few blocks of the one I was on my way to spend several weeks with. One of our newest investment clients was restoring a church right down the street from Curtis’s project, and I was heading there to be on site while things kicked off.

  It wasn’t just the vicinity of his project to mine that rubbed me wrong, it was the language in the article. Because our clients were doing something with an almost identical marketing campaign behind it—preserving the old while blending it with the new.

  My phone buzzed with a new text message.

  You reading the news? It was from my best friend and work partner in crime, Daria.

  Are there countries where castrating your ex is a legal means of recourse? I replied.

  She had an asinine ex-husband too, so she’d get it. God, I wish. Ooh, what about… Nope. Never mind. Still illegal.

  Don’t let that stop you from suggesting it. I hear there are no bad ideas, I wrote.

  This is a great idea. Still illegal, though.

  My laugh died in my throat when my phone rang, interrupting the conversation and souring the coffee in my gut when the name Dickhead McGee appeared on my screen. I’d be amused that either one of Daria’s children or boyfriends changed the name, if I wasn’t annoyed to see Curtis calling.

  I clicked Answer. “You’ve reached the desk of Carly Hammond. She refuses to talk to your arrogant ass right now, so— “

  “Hey, Temptress.” Curtis’s smooth tone and use of a nickname I’d learned to loathe made me grit my teeth. I could picture him sitting in some overpriced mesh draft chair, leaning back in one of those tacky Hawaiian print shirts he liked so much, with a smug look on h
is face. “Long time no talk,” he said.

  “For good reason.”

  Curtis made a clucking noise. “I hear we’re going to be working neighbors. I wanted to call before you got here, and see if we need to make any sort of who can be onsite when arrangements. To keep things from getting awkward.”

  Wait. What? “How did you know I was going to be there?”

  “Raphael Investment Group project plus restoration equals the adorable little Carly,” he said.

  Castration was too good for him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” If this was a romance novel, I’d tell him next that he could meet my new boyfriend while I was there. It wasn’t, and I refused to let myself care what Curtis thought. “I’ll be busy working, so I’m more likely to run into whatever sucker you have doing your work this month, than I am you.”

  “Hmm. I’ll see you in Milan, Temptress.” His tone was cool, no hint of reaction whatsoever, and he hung up first.

  Which made me more furious. I exercised far more restraint than I should need to, to keep myself from calling him back just so I could be the one to hang up on him.

  Fuck it. I refused to let anything, even him, ruin the fact that I was spending the next few weeks in my favorite city. Milan was gorgeous in the summer. And the fall. In winter. Spring…

  He wasn’t going to spoil this trip for me.

  I kept the thought on repeat in my mind as the airline called for First Class to board. I made so many trips that it was nothing to upgrade my flight, and I fell in with the handful of other passengers in the same section.

  As I stowed my bag and settled into my seat, Mr. Jeans with the sexy forearms took the seat next to me, and Mr. Suede Vest, who I assumed was his partner, sat across the aisle from us.

  The view ought to make for a nicer flight, and helped push Curtis further from my mind. “Do you two want to sit together?” I asked. “We could swap seats?”

  “No, thank you.” Mr. Jeans’s accent sent pleasant shivers racing down my spine. “He likes to watch.”

  Was that a lost in translation kind of reply? I hoped not, because the way he winked when he said it made me want to clench my thighs together. “Lucky for me, I like the attention.”

  Mr. Jeans smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They were even hotter in person. Go figure.

  They were also mostly quiet as everyone finished boarding, and we left the gate. I could respect that. Appreciate it even. Friendly was one thing, but non-stop chatting from Salt Lake to New York, even if it was mostly flirting, wasn’t for me.

  I could turn my attention to my current read. As I pulled the book up on my phone, a few choice words stood out.

  He lingered on her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples, while his partner gave her pussy extra attention.

  I’d forgotten I left off on one of the spicy scenes. As long as no one read over my shoulder, I’d be fine.

  Easy to say, but as I read about the heroine being worked over by two adoring gods, insistent need throbbed between my legs, and my pulse quickened.

  I really shouldn’t read this in a place where I couldn’t masturbate, but there was no way I was stopping now. It was so easy to imagine myself in her place.

  “I don’t think teeth work that way.” Mr. Jeans’s sexy-as-fuck accent wove its way into my reading.

  Heat flooded my skin as I looked up to find him looking between me and my phone screen. I raised my brows, rather than letting him see how turned on I was. “Oh really? You’re an expert in wolf shifter fangs?” I kept my challenge teasing.

  2

  raul (tony)

  It was impossible for me to ignore the stunning woman with the blond streaks in her long hair. That the hint of pink in her cheeks changed based on her scowl or her smile. That she hadn’t hidden the way she was watching Diego and me.

  When I’d pointed her out to him, we agreed that if we were back in Milan, we’d take a few hours, or an entire night, to get to know her better.

  Discovering I was seated next to her on the plane was an incredible surprise, and catching a glimpse of what she was reading sent the blood rushing straight to my dick. Should I leave her alone to enjoy her book? Probably. But I had to know what the odds were of watching Diego bury his face between her legs by the end of the flight, and then me fucking her until she screamed after.

  Now that I’d struck up the conversation with her, she was watching me with expectation. “We have them in Italy, you know,” I said. “Men who become wolves.” Not my best line, but it wasn’t bad.

  “Do you.” Her flat tone, the fact she hadn’t phrased it as a question, was its own kind of scream—one of disbelief.

  “Seductive men who fill the room with their presence, and take what they want in a way that’s so sexy their prey can’t resist? And who growl and bite during sex? We do.” Just a short list of the reasons I’d married Diego.

  Her laugh brightened her entire face, and her eye roll was the perfect accent.

  “I’m Tony.” I wasn’t. I was Raul. But Antonio was my middle name, a family name, and when I was in The States, I was in the habit of going by Tony because it made life easier for everyone. “He’s Nick.” I jerked my head back at Diego.

  “Lee.” Her smile was guarded, but it still shone in her eyes.

  “I admit to reading over your shoulder,” I said. “When the word cock caught my eye, I had to see the context.”

  The natural pink in her cheeks, the color she’d tried to hide under powder, darkened. “If I admit to having done the same on more than one occasion, with someone else’s book, will you think less of me?”

  “Exactly the opposite.” I watched her as we talked, each little movement, trying to gauge if she was interested or just being polite. Diego and I had an open relationship, built on honesty. The two of us had been committed to an amazing woman when we were younger, the mother of our daughter, but she’d decided Mom Life wasn’t for her, and moved to the US. It turned out she’d been more infatuated with the idea of fucking two men than she was with raising a family with us.

  Diego and I would love to have a relationship like that again, to bring a woman into our life longer term, but we realized the odds of that were unlikely. It didn’t stop us from sharing our bed with people who grabbed our attention.

  “I don’t know how you can argue that it’s not possible. The biting.” Lee seemed to still be focused on my opening comment. “You’re talking about a man who magically turns into a wolf. All bets are off.”

  Was that a challenge? I was torn between proving her wrong, and flirting. Doing both seemed unlikely with a woman who was willing to argue werewolf anatomy, but trying ought to be a blast. “It’s not a matter of magical transformation, it’s about anatomy. The human mouth isn’t shaped that way. Would you like a demonstration?”

  She snorted—even that was attractive on her. “Did you just offer to bite me?”

  “It sounds rude when you put it that way.” Though Italian was my first language, I’d grown up around English speakers—both American and British—thanks to my family’s company. I was familiar with a lot of the slang and idioms, but I wasn’t above using my accent to sound like I didn’t quite understand what I was saying.

  I knew what was coming out of my mouth.

  Lee’s disbelief hadn’t faded. “I sound rude? you just asked if I wanted a demonstration of how teeth work.”

  “That’s only rude if you’re not interested.” This was fun, and if it didn’t get me slapped it’d be worth it. Hell, even if it did get me slapped…

  “Arrogant much?” Lee asked. “Or is it only arrogance if it’s not true?”

  I liked her. “No, I’m quite arrogant. But I have earned it.”

  Lee leaned in closer, despite her doubtful expression. The proximity sent the faintest hint of vanilla drifting toward me.

  If I ran my tongue up the side of her neck, along that creamy skin, would she taste like panna cotta?

  “Your demonstration would
n’t be valid, even if I agreed to it,” Lee said.

  “Why not?”

  “Their jaws shift.” She nodded at her phone. “To be a wolf snout. Your jaw is far too square to have the same effect.”

  I was glad she noticed. “It’s not a matter of the shape—the front teeth don’t cut skin the way a knife would.” Was I really arguing the anatomy of a werewolf bite? This was fun.

  “Their entire bone structure changes, and you think their teeth stay the same?”

  I couldn’t win this disagreement, which meant I needed to change the rules. “I can’t say I’ve thought much about it. You on the other hand seem to have put a lot of thought into it.” Not that I was shaming her—it was both interesting and sexy.

  “My wolf shifter stories keep me warm at night.” She paused, furrowed her brow, and blushed.

  Was that a confession? “Is warm a euphemism?”

  “For giving myself orgasms. yes.”

  So much for innuendo. I was surprised at the response but not disappointed. “That’s something I’d like to see.”

  “It’s not something I tend to do for an audience, hence the giving myself…” She ducked her head as she trailed off, but the gesture didn’t hide the pink growing up her neck.

  I was so in. “But you want to. For me.”

  Her head shot up and so did her eyebrows. “Do I?” Her voice was flat again. “Because you’re so charming and handsome?”