Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
D’Angelo’s Beach House, Freedom
R obyn
Shocked, I snatch my hands from between D’Angelo’s and fall backward onto my ass amongst the puddle of wine and squashed chocolates on the porch’s floor.
The first ring attempt counts as a definite fail.
I suck at romance.
Shay is dripping water onto the white wooden floors from his wet, naked body.
Naked Weekends is Shay’s idea of heaven. If he could escape wearing clothes at all times, including on the rink, he’d jump at the chance.
Naked Hockey, now there’s an idea to get concession revenues up.
Cocks on Ice.
Actually, that sounds either painful or something on Shay’s kink list at the back of the Guide.
Droplets stream down from Shay’s spun golden hair, over his muscled chest and toned abs. He’s athletic with broad shoulders.
Shay is six foot, which means that he’s shorter than most hockey players. He’s prettier too with sharp cheekbones.
His skin is ice-white.
I expected him to turn into a lobster, when he caught the sun. The twins took turns lathering on obscene amounts of sun cream onto each other, however, before they left the shade of the beach house.
It looked like it was a familiar ritual.
When you’re as fair as they are, it’s not surprising that it’s either put on sun cream every morning or agonizingly burn.
Shay’s right eye, however, is swollen and already bruising to a deep purple.
He truly caught himself on that surfboard.
I’m not surprised, since Shay is impulsive. He throws himself at everything with a reckless energy.
Shay is standing staring at D’Angelo and me, looking gorgeous and confused.
His arms are also crossed, which never looks the power move that it should when a man has his cock and balls on display.
Yet he also can’t hide the hurt in his large, winter gray eyes, which are framed by butterfly lashes.
My chest aches.
D’Angelo’s expression hardens.
He pushes himself off the couch and prowls toward Shay, who has the sense to stumble backward.
D’Angelo brandishes the rose in front of himself like a sword. “For a qualified astrophysicist, I sometimes doubt your observational skills, cucciolo. Am I wearing a ring? Is our Robyn holding one?”
Our Robyn.
I smile.
I also almost forget that there truly are rings — three of them — hidden just behind the cushions on this couch.
“Huh, like I’d give D’Angelo a ring today,” I ramble, hoping that I don’t sound as fake as I do to my own ears. I never lie to my men but this time, it’s because I want presenting them with these rings to be something that makes them feel special and cherished. I mustn’t screw it up. “When he draws his horny fanged stickmen, spills my favorite wine all over me in order to lick it off, and gags me?”
Shay’s expression brightens. “Kinky. Now I’m even more jealous.”
And he is jealous.
I’m in a polyamorous relationship with these men, where they support each other like brothers.
Yet D’Angelo is still possessive of me and needs time alone when it’s just the two of us.
Eden needs his own space.
And Shay?
He experiences jealousy because he can’t have as close a relationship as D’Angelo and Eden have with me.
It’s normal in any relationship because everybody has their own needs, traumas, and triggers. I love that these men have let me in enough, trusting me with their pasts. Now, we can work on what our futures should look like together.
If we can survive this season.
D’Angelo’s expression darkens. “Don’t you think that there could be another reason that my principessa could be on her knees for me?”
I blush.
Wait, does D’Angelo think that I threw myself enthusiastically off the couch in order to wrap my lips around his admittedly impressive cock?
I deliberately pull my hair in front of my face to hide my flaming cheeks.
Shay shrugs. “If you say so, darlin’. But tell me to fuck off if I’m interrupting something important. I know that my brother and I are getting in the way of your break here. It was brilliant of you to invite us along too. I never thought that trash like us could holiday in a place like this. But I know that this is your home and not ours. I get that you’ve known each other since college. You’re Robyn’s first love. I’m only your sub. If you’d prefer it to be just Robyn and you—”
D'Angelo growls, raising the rose to press it across Shay’s lips to silence him.
“Are you threatening me with a flower, darlin’?” Shay mumbles.
“I’ll threaten you with a spanking, if you put yourself down again. I dare you to say another word about this.”
Shay cocks his head like he’s deciding whether to brat or not.
He’s definitely going to brat.
I bite my lip.
It’s hot watching these men together. They’re always one spark away from hate sex.
“ One word ,” Shay whispers.
D’Angelo grabs Shay by the scruff of the neck. When he squeezes just on the side of too harsh, Shay melts like it’s a caress.
D’Angelo holds the rose, as if it’s a blade, across Shay’s throat. The thorns on the stem dig into his delicate, pale skin but don’t make him bleed.
Unless he moves…
I watch Shay and D’Angelo with wide eyes.
Shay swallows.
He’s breathing fast, but his pupils are dilated with both fear and anticipation.
D’Angelo’s silky hair tumbles across Shay’s cheek, and his lips graze against his ear. “You’re not only a sub. You’re my sub. I expect you to be proud of that.”
“I am,” Shay murmurs.
“Then act like it. This beach house is Eden and your home too.” D’Angelo pushes the thorns more forcefully against Shay’s skin.
Shay hisses in a breath.
His gaze meets mine, as he struggles to hold himself still.
I nod, giving him my reassurance. “I love you equally. This is our home, family, and new life.”
“I invited your brother and you because I want to share this with you.” D’Angelo drops his hand from the scruff of Shay’s neck to ghost it down his side, abs, and then just shy of his cock that twitches in interest, despite the threat at his throat. “I promise you, along with Robyn and Eden, a lifetime of these moments on and off the ice. My every breath.”
“ A lifetime? ” Shay’s voice is painful with hope.
This is why we don’t need a marriage ceremony. There are a hundred other ways to prove our dedication to each other. The problem is whether Shay can believe it in his heart, even if he does in his head.
D’Angelo finally slides his hands to encircle Shay’s balls like a claim of ownership. “And not a single day less.”
Not a single day less.
D’Angelo’s fierce gaze meets mine over Shay’s shoulder.
D’Angelo’s love is all-encompassing… fucking powerful .
It makes me feel seen for the first time in my life.
Safe.
Protected.
But also, determined to protect my men just as fiercely.
I hear D’Angelo’s oath. After everything that we’ve been through, I won’t take it for granted.
Shay lets out a breath. “I’ll hold you to that. I’m yours now, forever.”
In approval, D’Angelo lightly squeezes Shay’s balls. “That’s a good boy.”
“Fuck, darlin’.” Shay’s eyelashes flutter. “Beast.”
“Beauty.”
I chuckle.
D’Angelo’s eyes crease at the side. “Perhaps, I just like to see pretty people suffer.”
True.
Shay’s eyes glint, challengingly. “Lucky for you that I’m a pretty person who finds pleasure in suffering.”
To my surprise, D’Angelo’s expression softens. “What if I want to spoil you this weekend instead?”
Shay looks lost, searching out my gaze like I have an answer.
I don’t.
I love, however, that D’Angelo is showing this side to Shay as well as to me. Still, it’ll probably be as hard for Shay to allow himself to be spoiled as to deal with a cold, stern D’Angelo.
“Is my brother in trouble again?” A deep, rumbling English voice calls from the path that runs to the sea.
Shay looks smug. “Now, you’ll need to release me. My brother will see your brutish—"
“He talked shit about himself,” D’Angelo calmly replies to Eden, ignoring Shay. “So, I’m holding him hostage with a rose.”
“Fair.” Eden strides to join me on the porch.
Shay snaps his mouth shut, affronted. “Traitor to the Circle of Twins, bro.”
Eden ignores Shay as well, focusing on me. “Are you okay?”
Suddenly, I remember that I’m a hot mess, who is sitting in congealing wine with a melting chocolate in the crack of my ass.
Hell, I hope that Eden believes that it’s chocolate.
I redden. “I’m just a victim of food play gone wrong.”
Eden’s brow wrinkles. “You shouldn’t play with your food.”
Shay laughs, brightly. “You should the way that I do it.”
Eden has golden hair like Shay, but it’s slicked back from his face. This makes his cheekbones look sharper than his brother’s. His right eyebrow is pierced, making him edgier too.
Eden is dressed in a gray t-shirt and black leather trousers. His bare feet are sandy. He’s clutching a book, however, which he’s somehow managed to keep pristine.
I’m not surprised. Books are Eden’s babies.
He is more relaxed than normal. Eden needs this weekend as much as the rest of us do.
His other arm is in a sling.
I can tell that D’Angelo is right about his pain rating for Eden’s shoulder, as well as his cracked ribs, by the deliberately stoic expression that he’s wearing.
Eden never complains. But I’m getting better at reading when he should .
“Do you need any pain meds, phoenix?” I ask.
Eden shakes his head, although his lips twitch into an almost smile on the phoenix . “I’m fine.”
“Pain scale,” D’Angelo demands.
“Three,” Eden replies. “I can handle it.”
Then he drops his book onto the side of the couch, before reaching down and helping me to my feet.
Sunlight shines on the gorgeous tattoos on Eden’s bulging arms. The ink is in stark contrast to the ice-white of his skin.
Black roses wind up both of his forearms with spiky thorns.
I was privileged for him to tell me what his tattoos mean. Eden’s ink is a way of taking back control over his life and body. Black roses symbolize that he’s endured pain but he has still bloomed.
The twins were sold by their addict biological parents, when they were kids. They both have different ways of coping with that trauma, some of it healthy and some of it not.
But together, we are all finding ways to heal from our dark pasts.
Eden efficiently wipes the smeared chocolate off the side of my hip. I lap at his fingers to clean him up.
Yummy.
Food play after all.
D’Angelo wrinkles his nose. “You had better not get that mess on my immaculate couch. Wrap my principessa in that blanket, which is hung over the back of it.”
“You don’t need to make me sound like some poor orphan,who you’ve dragged into your mansion,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry, love, he’s already role playing the mafia prince who holds the groom hostage at the wedding.” Shay winks at me.
D’Angelo hurls the rose down, before shoving Shay sprawling onto the couch. “You’re more like the kidnapped bride.”
“Either way, it’s hot.”
Eden pulls the folded blue blanket from the back of the couch and wraps it around me. It’s so large that it covers every inch of me.
When my hair becomes caught, Eden gently pulls the waves free. Then he sits on the couch and encourages me to lean against his hard chest.
I’m careful not to put pressure on his ribs.
Eden is warm from the sun, and his warmth seeps through my naked skin. Our hips are touching.
I burrow even closer against him with a pleased sigh.
“I’ll make us tea soon,” Eden says. “I intended to iron your clothes. But now I don’t need to.”
He exchanges a glance with D’Angelo.
Doms who work in pairs are dangerous.
It serves me right for having a laundry system that consists of rolling up clothes and stuffing them at the back of my closet. Then packing them in my suitcase in the same way.
“Good because I want you to enjoy this holiday.” I rest my head on Eden’s shoulder. “Are you?”
It’s hard to tell with Eden.
He doesn’t show his emotions, and most of the time, he doesn’t appear to understand them.
He’s the opposite of his outgoing twin.
Yet I doubt that Shay is as much of an open book as I once thought he was either.
Eden nods, then he darts a glance at D’Angelo. “I won’t slack on your schedule for next week. You’re the best boss.”
D’Angelo gives a genuine, pleased smile. “At home, I’m not your boss, remember? At least, I’ll only pull that card, when I’m being an asshole. So, fuck the schedule. I’ll do my own damn work this weekend. You and your brother deserve the first vacation of your lives. What’s the point of being a millionaire, if I can’t even treat my own family?”
Eden ducks his head. “Thanks, Jude.”
I turn my head to kiss Eden’s shoulder, absentmindedly stroking up and down the thorns on his tattoo.
Shay grasps my hand, entwining our fingers.
Then he kisses me, slow, tender, and fucking perfect.
When he pulls back, he smiles. “Hey, love.”
“Hey.” I kiss Shay again just because I can and he has the most frankly kissable lips in the world. “Does it hurt? Shall I get the arnica cream?”
When I gently trace his bruised eye, he winces.
“I’m fine,” Shay replies. “You should see the other guy.”
I snort. “Somehow, I think the board won. I’ll ask Code to give you surfing lessons, when he’s free.”
“That would be brilliant, love. Any new skill takes time to get the hang of, along with blood, sweat, and tears. It’ll be worth it.”
“Reading and a good cup of tea doesn’t take any blood, sweat, or tears. Still worth it.” Eden quirks his brow.
A man after my own heart.
“What’s the book?” I point at the one on the couch. “Are you planning to recommend it for our book club next week?”
“Another romance?” Shay asks like the novel is his personal enemy.
He is definitely not a member of our club.
Eden nods. “ The Doll Factory by Elizabeth Macneal. It’s a creepy romance, which features a sociopath who treats people like dolls because of his obsessive love.”
I shudder. “A light beach read then.”
To my surprise, Eden struggles to reach into his pocket and pulls out a small shell.
It’s fragile and pure white like wings.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe.
“I found this on the beach.” Eden holds it out to me. “It’s for you.”
“You always wanted to hunt for shells, Dee.” Shay gives a sunny smile. He studies the shell, as I take it from Eden and hold it in my palm. “Do you remember when we talked about what we’d do at the seaside, if we ever got to go like the other kids did at school? I wanted to eat fish and chips and swim. You had a period of being obsessed with pirate myths and exploring for them in the sea caves. Then you were desperate to collect shells. I wish we’d got to do that.”
“You are now,” D’Angelo says, firmly. “Well, apart from searching for pirates. We could always role play pirates, if you want an adult spin on that.”
Eden doesn’t say anything but he’s watching me closely.
I stroke over the shell.
It feels like a charm.
A guardian angel to protect me.
“This is called an angel wing shell,” I say. “I used to hunt for shells with Code as a kid. He was fascinated with them too. He had this large collection and could have named all of them. Dad threw them out, when Code was a teenager. He told him that he was too old for dorky shit like that . Code cried for days.”
My chest is tight at the memory. It happened after Mom died from cancer.
Cody wasn’t the jock that Dad had dreamed about having, despite the fact that Cody was a strong swimmer and surfer.
Nothing Cody did would have been good enough.
It still isn’t.
I figured that out quickly. Cody was never considered as smart as me, as athletic as Dad, or as lovable as Mom.
Cody was just never enough .
Eden’s eyes blaze. “Your Dad is a bully. If he tries to hurt your brother again, I’ll stop him.”
I stare at Eden in shock.
He means that.
Since he spent two weeks as a kid being locked in a room and hurt by adults, I understand why he won’t let anyone else be hurt by those in authority.
He’s as fiercely protective of my brother, as I am.
Eden didn’t truly understand friendship before my awesome brother took him under his wing and tried to offer him that.
It appears to have worked.
I gently close my hand around the shell. “I will as well. I’ll keep this angel safe. I love it.”
Unexpectedly, I hear footfalls from the path that leads down the side of the beach house.
The side that runs to the front of the house…
No one is meant to know that we’re here at the beach house for our own safety.
They definitely shouldn’t be able to get through security.
Panicked, I sit up. “Shit, someone’s coming. Who the fuck are they? How did they…?”
Instantly, Eden launches himself to his feet like he could fight off any attacker, despite his arm being in a sling.
He still manages to look dangerous as he stands protectively in front of me.
I place the shell onto the couch and grasp a cushion, hugging it in front of me like it’s part barrier and part weapon.
Is it a stalker? Obsessed fan?
One of the many, many haters who send daily death threats online to the team?
D’Angelo stands in front of us all, before ripping off his suit jacket and hurling it at Shay.
D’Angelo may enjoy Shay and me being naked but he’s possessive enough to hate having anyone else see us in that state.
Shay swings the jacket over his shoulders to partially cover himself. D’Angelo is taller than him. So, the jacket hangs low enough to at least cover Shay’s cock.
Shay hugs the jacket closed around himself, standing at D’Angelo’s shoulder.
D’Angelo looks around for a weapon, but unless he wants to try the rose route again, I can’t see what he can grab.
In desperation, D’Angelo snatches up the half empty whiskey glass, weighing it in his hand.
Then a handsome, older man marches down the path toward us. He has silver hair. He’s tall with a neat beard and twinkling, emerald eyes.
He’s dressed in a sharp charcoal suit with a green shirt and tie.
“Dad,” I squeak.
My cheeks stain with pink.
“Coach,” D’Angelo drawls, at the same time as stepping to shield Shay as much as he can, “to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“Cut the bullshit, D’Angelo,” Dad barks. His condemning gaze sweeps across the porch, taking in the fact that two of us are close to naked, the spilled wine and smashed chocolates, as well as the whiskey in D’Angelo’s hand. To be fair, it does look like he’s interrupting an orgy. Well, he is probably only about a quarter of an hour early for that. “I’m only here because none of you were answering your phones or messages. Are you drunk again?”
D'Angelo’s brows furrow in confusion, before he notices the whiskey glass. “Sadly, not. And we’re not answering because we made a pact to leave our phones off for at least a couple of hours every day. Robyn isn’t answerable to you twenty-four seven.”
I’m proud of how he’s standing up for me.
D’Angelo is pale. His hand is shaking.
He doesn’t normally backtalk coaches. You can’t as the captain. Plus, he has a traumatic past with parental and authority figures.
So, I know how much this must be triggering him right now.
Yet he’s learning to stand his ground against Dad, no matter how much of a hard-ass Dad is.
“Actually, as PR Director, she is.” Dad’s steely gaze meets mine.
I tilt up my chin. “This is meant to be our vacation weekend, Dad. The first since the start of pre-season. You know how much the guys went through in order to protect you. It was difficult for Code and me to deal with learning all that shit about Mom and you. I need some time away from Freedom.”
For a moment, Dad’s expression softens. “This is an emergency. I wish that I could give you a break, but things aren’t that simple. Your brother will get over it. It’s you that I worry about. You don’t know everything that’s going on.”
Adrenaline skyrockets through me.
What the hell is going on?
What’s the emergency?
D’Angelo crosses his arms. “So, this is what your promises are worth, coach?”
Dad’s eyes blaze. “Look, I made a promise that you could have this weekend off and now I’m taking it back. Life’s tough. Suck it up. Now, get dressed, get packed, then get your asses back to Rebel Arena. Our entire future as a team is on the line.”