10. Hailey
“Uh.”
I stare across at a baffled Astor. She blinks across at me as though seeing me for the first time. It was a hell of a first impression. Not in a good way, either. Her boyfriend was balls-deep in me from behind while my hands were braced on a toilet paper holder in a bathroom stall.
“Is that your professional opinion?” I wink.
She grabs the pillow by her hip on her perfect bright pink couch and tosses it at my head. I snag it from the air and hold it as a shield as she tosses one more and then another.
“What are you going to do now? You’re out of ammo.”
My psychologist-turned-bestie over many, many years, shoots up and rushes toward me. I hold up my pillow shield in defense. The blow never comes. When I lower my buffer, she’s sitting on the coffee table directly in front of me.
“Sex looks great on your complexion. You’re practically glowing.”
“Don’t.” She holds up one manicured finger between us. The soft pink look pops against her radiant black skin. “You’re not sidetracking me today.”
Astor is breathtakingly gorgeous. Her body is long and lean. Her smile, when I get it, is vibrant and warm. The amber flecks in her eyes sparkle. Her ex-boyfriend was a fuck nugget with shit for brains. Most of them have been, not that she’s dated much.
Nope, but that’s finally changing.
“I bet he was a ten out of ten,” I goad.
“Twenty out of ten and he hasn’t even touched me yet.” She waves her weaponized finger. “That’s beside the point.”
“And what is the point?” I bat my lashes as though I haven’t just dropped a bomb on her.
“You’ve come so far, Hailey,” she shrieks.
“What?” My head jerks back. “That’s not what I expected you to say.” I cover my mouth, then uncover it. “You heard me say I’m attempting to enter into a polyamorous relationship, right?”
“A triad, yes.” Astor nods.
“And you say I’ve come a long way because…?”
She shakes her pretty head. Her high bun holding tight at the top. The curls give texture around her face. “Six months ago, you couldn’t fuck without being restrained and blindfolded, and facing away from your anonymous partner.”
“My vetted, clean, consenting, anonymous partners. And only once a month.”
“Like I said.” She sighs. “You’ve come a long way. You’re in a committed relationship, and if you two have chosen consciously and equally to pursue this addition, then I support it. As long as you maintain clear communication and established boundaries.”
My gaze narrows. “Who are you, and what have you done with my vanilla bean, dark chocolate bestie?”
“Can’t you just say I’ve come a long way too?” She tosses her hands up and shakes them in question.
“Why? Riling you up is so much more fun.” I waggle my brows. “How is Nash, by the way?”
“Nope.” Astor shakes her head. “Save it for another day.” She stands and smooths down her jeans. “You have to go pick up your plus-one, and I have to get to the diner.”
I stand too, situating my flowing skirt and blouse.
A little pang squeezes my heart. With growth, change is inevitable. I’m thrilled for my first Christmas Eve with Arlo and Hota. Beyond thrilled. But there’s a sadness about leaving behind other traditions.
“Don’t sweat it, Hay Bale.” She pulls me into a hug. I bury my face in the ruffle of her turtleneck. “It’s just another dinner at the diner. We’ll be there again in no time.”
“How about next week?”
“Pops will love it,” she promises.
Still, tears blur my vision. Her father, hell, her entire family has been like a second family to me. This will be the first big event I’ve missed at her father’s diner with the whole ruckus crew.
“If you cry and make me mess up my makeup…” Astor warns.
“How will me crying mess up your makeup?” I blink wildly, willing them away.
“Because I’ll cry, you goof,” she says with a thickness in her voice that preempts a flood.
“Okay. Okay.” I straighten, and we both fan our faces. “You’ll give your dad my Christmas present?”
“Yes. First thing.” She ushers me toward the hallway lined with coats and purses of all shapes, styles, and colors. “He’ll like it more than my presents.”
“He will not.” I booty bump her butt as she leans for a jean duster matching her pants.
She squeaks, catches herself, and then retaliates by kicking one of my low boots across the hallway. I scramble after it, and we’re both laughing.
“What is it, anyway?” She toes on her own low boots, maroon where mine are black.
“Nonrefundable.” I grin and slip on my coat before retrieving my shoes and stuffing my socked feet inside.
“If it’s anything like my present?—”
“Which was selfish and a present for me.” I point out since it is a girls’ trip to Aruba in the spring. Me, her, and Nat.
“He’s going to hate it, isn’t he?” She shrugs on her duster and layers a heavier coat over top.
“Yep.” My hands clap together of their own volition. Not because he’s going to hate it, but because it’s going to make his life a thousand times easier and save him a ton of money. And because it’s expensive. “It’s from me and Arlo.”
“Pops liked Arlo when he met him.” She adjusts the layered gold chains around her neck. “Is this going to change that?”
“Only for a couple of days, then he’ll love us that much more.” I scoop up my bag and hand Astor hers.
“That’s why you’re not coming to the diner. You’re going to make me take the brunt of his irritation.” She slips the small clutch’s leather strap over her head and one arm. “He’s a proud man, you know.”
“I know.” I grin. “I love you.”
“Sure you do.” She grabs the card and a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, shoos me out the door, and locks it. We take the stairs down because it’s only three flights and much faster than waiting for the elevator. When we reach the ground level and push out onto the sidewalk, we both gasp.
Her cousin’s Range Rover idles in the loading space.
“Has she ever been on time for anything?” I gawk.
“Not even her dad’s funeral.”
I remember and wince. I’d never seen Astor’s aunt, her uncle’s ex-wife, so pissed.
“I love you. Even if you are a pain in my ass.” Astor kisses my cheek.
“I love you too. You owe me details.”
She waves me off. “The way I see it, you owe me big time for today.”
“Bye.” I grin.
“Where’s your ride?”
Leonard steps out of the Maybach and circles to the rear passenger door. I was given a stern talking-to by Karris when I called it a Town Car. How the hell was I supposed to know or care what it was called?
She sees him and waves. “Merry Christmas. Tell these stuck-up people you work for to give you the holiday off.”
“I get six weeks paid vacation.” The large man chuckles. “I’m happy to work on the holidays.”
“Damn.” Astor’s spoiled cousin pipes up from the driver’s seat. “You need another driver?”
“To get me late everywhere I go?” I wave her off. “No thank you, Geneva.”
“You haven’t worked a day in your pampered life.” Astor closes the door on her tirade that’s sure to last at least until the bridge. Her cousin is spoiled by her finance-genius momma. I hope she’s learned to save because Astor’s auntie won’t be around forever.
“Thank you, Leonard,” I say as he opens the door for me. I’ve had car service for years, thanks to my aunt, but never the same, reliable, personable driver. It made me feel spoiled even though work is in my blood, taken with me from the farm to the fancy city.
“My pleasure, Hailey.” I grin at him and slide into the car. “I’ve called ahead and confirmed. Hotaru will be awaiting our arrival.”
“Perfect.”
He closes the door, and a thrill shoots straight through me. I shed my coat and purse and grab my phone. A text from Arlo awaits me.
Our feast is on schedule.
Along with several kissy-face emoji.
My smile hurts my cheeks. I reply with a kissy face selfie with a plump of cleavage and a note.
I love you! Headed to Hota’s now, and then we’re on the way to you.
He answers rather immediately.
Feel free to indulge on the way. I might, with this picture.
I rapid fire.
Don’t burn our dinner.
He shoots back.
I would never.
Attached is a selfie of him standing over the stove with his sleeves rolled up and his forearm pumped with veins from the sauce base he’s flipping in the skillet.
I type back.
My mouth is watering.
When he doesn’t respond, I know he’s either jerking himself off or making certain he’s not burning the sauce. Either or both are fine with me. I save the pic to my camera roll for my spank bank, not that I need it with Arlo around.
He is more than I could have ever imagined. In every way.
The traffic today is minimal and we make it to the pristine building that stretches high into the sky in no time. It’s almost as big as my smile when I see Hota shift from the devastatingly sexy lean he has going against the building.
Leonard doesn’t bother to get out for Hota. The two have gone round and round over the years and finally agree that Leo won’t open the door for Hota as long as Arlo isn’t in the car.
I lean forward and open it for him.
He braces his hand on the top of the car and leans down. “I can open my door, sunshine.”
Good Lord, this man is beautiful. His face is that of a legendary samurai warrior depicted on silk scrolls but in real life. His brows are thick, and his eyes are so deep they pull you in like tar. The cut of his jaw and cheekbones are model worthy, and the pout of his mouth could star in its very own porno.
He drapes himself across the open doorway, probably because I’ve yet to move out of his way. He’s relaxed like a large jungle cat, but I know he could strike without warning.
“And I can get myself off, pretty panther, but I’d rather you do it for me.”
Just as I expected, Hota moves without warning. He’s in the car and crowding me before I register it.
His hands brace my waist and move me farther into the car, but not to the other seat. He closes the door without taking his eyes or his hands off me. His fingers tighten around my middle.
“Don’t,” he whispers. It’s more ominous than any snarl. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
Hota’s stomach is close to my hip, heating me through his black-knitted sweater while his khaki trench envelops my arms, which have gone to his chest. I feel his heart kicking under my touch.
“I don’t,” I promise.
“Then your mouth is going to get us all in more trouble than we can handle,” he rumbles, staring directly at my lips.
“From what I can tell.” My breaths come in measured pants. “We’ve all handled more than our fair share of trouble.” I lift my chin, not backing down from his bravado for a second.
“I don’t know about you.” His hands go impossibly tighter on my waist. “I’ve had enough trouble to last three lifetimes. Arlo has had five times that.” His upper lips curl, and his teeth show. “Why beg for more?”
“Because you deserve more.”
“Trouble?” he spits.
“More of Arlo. More for yourself. More of the things you want most.”
Hota picks me up, moves me to the far edge of the seat, and then retreats to his side. He takes his warmth and sudden hostility with him.
His chest heaves with ragged breaths. He folds his arms over his thick pecs and seethes. The sinew of his jaw ticks with words he chews instead of speaks. His warm eyes stay forward and far away from me.
I let him stew for several blocks. Too many for my liking.
My knee-jerk reaction is to demand an answer. To make him talk until we work this out. Because we have to work this out before we reach Arlo. I can’t go to him with Hota in tatters, not of my own making.
“I don’t mean to hurt you or scare you,” I explain quietly without turning toward him and taking his hand like I want. “I only mean to give you the things you deserve.”
“I deserve nothing,” he barks.
His volume and the conviction in his voice push me back in the seat.
“I let him go.” Hota turns on me, a rabid panther. His hands are fists, and his nostrils flare. “I let him go, and a part of him never came back.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I remind him. “He made you promise?—”
“Something I should have never agreed to,” he snarls.
I let him brew and boil with his sad and angry eyes on me. When his shoulders settle and he collapses back into his seat, I grab his hand and sandwich it between mine. He doesn’t protest. So I smooth his palm with my fingertips and slip mine along each of his digits. I map his veins and revel in his pulse.
Arlo and I haven’t been together for very long. I know it’s forever in my marrow, just as it is with him and Hota. Sure, I could wait until our relationship is more established to push the bounds with them, but they’ve waited long enough. Decades.
If given the option, they’d continue this awkward holding pattern for all time to keep from losing each other. Neither can seem to understand that their fear is the only thing holding them back.
They can have it all if they face it like Arlo made me face mine. We can have it all.
We approach the house. I lean over and press my lips to the center of his hand, the pads of each finger, and then his wrist before leveling him with my full gaze.
“Maybe it’s time you do what you want to do and not just what he asks.” I push out the door, wave Leo off, walk to Hota’s side of the car, open the door for him, and then wait.
A split second later, Hota bolts from the car, grabs my wrist, and drags me between vehicles that line the street, across the sidewalk, and up the steps of Arlo’s home. He shoves me into the alcove to the left of the door.
Air leaves my lungs in a whoosh. Not because he hurt me. His touch is rough and not at all what I’m accustomed to since Arlo pampers me. Shock has me gasping.
He crowds in close.
Leonard rounds the car to close the gaping door before clocking us in the corner and making his way back to the driver’s side.
If Hota knows he’s there, he doesn’t care. His gaze is zeroed in on me. “You want me to do what I want, Hailey? Not just what he asks?”
“Yes.” I pant, still trying to catch my breath.
“He asked me to fuck you,” Hota says as he grinds his obscenely large and hard length against my pubic bone. Pain laces the pleasure. It’s only then I realize that my legs are dangling, and he’s got me pinned by his hips to mine and his hand to my throat.
I’m not surprised since we’ve talked about it several different times. I’m more surprised that things aren’t falling into place like I anticipated. Which goes to show what I know about relationships. Maybe I need to shift professions.
Sure, I know love alone isn’t enough. I figured that love, openness, and communication would be. It seems we have more demons to slay than I anticipated.
“How did that make you feel?”
“Cheap.” He growls and thrusts, trying to make me feel the same way.
“I don’t want you to fuck me because you’re gorgeous and attentive and too fucking good with your mouth.” I moan despite myself. “I don’t want you to fuck me because I need more cock in my life. Arlo’s is more than enough.”
His grip on my throat tightens. “Then why?” He works his length over my clit.
The moan that leaves me is dirty and wanton. “I think it’s the only way he’ll allow himself to have you.”
Hota’s hips still. “What?”
“If we jump, he will follow.”
He drops me to my feet and steps away. His chest heaving. There’s desperation in his pretty eyes. “You’re insane.” He rolls his shoulders. “That’s a feat for a psychologist.”
“Am I crazy?” I straighten and adjust my soaked panties and disheveled blouse. “Or are you just too close to see what’s at your feet?”
“And what is that?”
“Everything you’ve ever wanted.” I slip past him, type in the code, and shove open the front door. I leave Hota on the stoop to make a decision.