Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4 Read Online Free Page B

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    Instinctively, she wrapped one arm around his neck while the other reached behind her to palm Matt’s ass. Her head fell back, resting on his chest. Clint leaned in and took a taste of her exposed neck. When someone whistled, they all jolted. What the hell was happening? Where were they again?
    Oh, right. The reception. Jambrea shook her head, clearing the blazing desire from her mind as best she could. Unfortunately that only made the dance floor rock like the deck of a ship. Uh oh.
    “I’ve got you,” Matt rumbled in her ear.
    “No, we’ve got you,” Clint corrected.
    For a few minutes, she stopped fighting and pretended that they meant it like it sounded. It was the best one-hundred-and-twenty seconds of the year so far. Then the song ended and the DJ announced the final dance. A ballad.
    “We’re getting the hell out of here,” Matt proclaimed.
    The guys corralled her toward the guests of honor. They exchanged congratulations one more time.
    “Have a good night.” Lily’s sly grin didn’t allow any room for misinterpretation.
    Before Jambrea could respond, her dates whisked her to Matt’s waiting black chariot. Clint didn’t bother to boost her into the truck. This time he encircled her waist and lifted her onto the seat as though she weighed nothing at all.
    “What were you trying to prove out there?” Matt rubbed his jaw. “Every single guy in the room was drooling over you. You’ve had too much to drink to be advertising like that.”
    So they hadn’t rushed her home to sample the wares she’d been hawking? No, they’d just planned to cock block any other interested man. The wave of disappointment that hit her made her feel sick. Fortunately, she only lived a few blocks away.
    They spent the entirety of the ride in silence.
    The teeter-totter they’d been balancing precariously on slipped from its fulcrum. She couldn’t take another minute of the erratic highs and lows, and especially not these weird, forced, blah middle points. No more.
    Despite her protests, they insisted on walking her to her apartment. Granted, she lived in a relatively crappy neighborhood that had deteriorated bit by bit since she’d moved in nearly a decade ago, but she’d never had issues before. Her pair of cops were more dangerous to her than random thugs.
    When they held the door, she couldn’t help making one last bid for what she felt slipping through her fingers. It was now or never.
    “You know, I didn’t even see any other guys at the reception tonight. What do I have to do to make you like me?” She rubbed against Matt, uncaring about how pathetic she looked or how much she’d hate herself in the morning.
    “Son of a bitch. I do like you. Too much.” He stared at her in horror as they squeezed together into her apartment, Clint close on their heels.
    He groaned in the background. She spun on him. “Come on, tell me. What’d I do wrong? How did I screw things up? Am I supposed to pick one of you? Is that what this is? Some stupid male contest? Was it because I kissed you both? Was that some kind of test? Did I fail?”
    “Jambi, no.” Matt spun her around again. The world tilted and she wondered when the last time was that she’d been so hammered. “You’ve got this all wrong.”
    “Then why? Tell me what I did!” She couldn’t believe that she raised her voice, but it felt good to finally let off some steam so she kept ranting. “One minute you were sucking my face off and the next time I saw you, you wouldn’t even look me in the damn eye.”
    “It wasn’t because of you. It’s…us,” Clint admitted as he and Matt exchanged a worried glance. Good, let them be afraid. They could share the sour stomach that had been rotting her from the inside since the fallout of that single reckless, yet addicting, moment became apparent.
    She waited, but they didn’t elaborate. “Really, that’s the best you can do? Some talk . ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ never convinced