Triplets for the Irish Doctors (Forbidden Hearts #11)

Prologue

ROWAN

The ship’s lounge is half-empty this late in the evening, the jazz trio having packed up an hour ago. A few stragglers nurse drinks under soft amber lights while the ocean hums through the walls. I’m in my usual corner seat, back to the wall, eyes on the room—something between habit and paranoia.

Sean’s telling a story about some girl he disappeared from our conference to hook up with, all quick hands and crooked grin, and Declan’s pretending not to be amused.

I’ve seen her too. Not just the flash of her dress in the atrium or the sound of her laugh carrying down the hallways. More than seen her. Touched her. Tasted her. Had her. Enough to recognize her when Sean describes it.

Willow. Wild hair, green eyes, a name like something rooted deep. Strong, mysterious, wise. At least, that’s the way I tell myself the story should go. But the truth is messier.

They think they’re clever, but it’s not hard to put the pieces together. I don’t say it out loud. Not yet. Let them talk. Let them brag and pretend they’re the only ones.

I sip my whiskey and let their words wash over me, thinking about her. She’s already tangled up in more than she knows. And so are we.

“She’s got this laugh,” Sean says, leaning in. “Not fake, not polite. Deadly. Like you’ve just said the best thing she’s heard all week. You want to make her do it again just to keep hearing it.”

Declan smirks. “Jaysus, you’ve gone soft, talking like you’re married to her, only just met.”

“Says the man who’s been walking around like he’s guarding the crown jewels.” Sean tilts his glass at him. “Who is she, then?”

Declan shrugs, but his mouth tips at the corner. “Met her on the second day. She was lost, trying to find one of the upper decks. I showed her the way. She’s…different.”

“Different how?” I ask, even though I know how she’s different. I just know he wants someone to ask.

“She listens,” he says simply.

He means it, but it’s enough to make Sean snort. “I listen, I do. I’m sound,” he says defensively, and I want to remind him that hopefully he doesn’t listen the way the woman Declan’s bedding listens, but I let it go.

“No,” Declan says without looking at him. “You wait to talk.” Then he adds, almost to himself, “And those eyes—green, almost yellow like a cat’s.”

Sean blinks. “Green eyes? Does she have curly brown hair?” He gestures vaguely around his temple. “Kind of messy in a good way?”

“Mm,” Declan says.

The door at the far side of the lounge opens, and Sean’s grin freezes for a half second. When I look up, my gut tightens. I’ve known I was sharing Willow since the beginning, but it’s still like a punch in the abdomen every time I see her eyes look for Sean first.

Declan

She walks in with swishing hips and a broad smile—the kind that belongs to a Hollywood star—that stretches across her cheeks.

She’s in a loose yellow dress tonight, hair down around her shoulders except for two braids. There’s a drink in her hand and a smile on her face as she scans the room, looking for someone.

She could be looking for any of us, it seems, and I know it as soon as her eyes find us. She finds Sean first, and she waves a big, bright, easy wave.

Then she sees me. And Rowan.

It’s like someone cut the string holding her up.

Her hand drops mid-arc, the smile fades, and her shoulders stiffen.

She’s in that doorway, but it’s like I watch her intention change.

I don’t know how that could be, if it’s in the shift of her heels or the turn of her chin, but I know that she’s planning on leaving.

She’s no longer bright and big—she’s a shadow.

Sean follows her gaze, finally clocks that she’s looking at all of us, and I see it land. Rowan’s eyes narrow just slightly, like he’s been expecting this.

For a beat, no one moves. The low hum of conversation in the lounge carries on around us, but at our table, it’s gone quiet.

Willow takes one slow step backward. Then another. Then she turns, and ah, Jaysus, I’m watching her leave. I’m watching the fabric of her dress bounce across her ass, watching the light catch the sheen of her oiled legs. But all of it amounts to leaving.

Sean

She’s started to walk away before I’ve even decided whether to laugh or swear.

“Willow—” I start, but she’s already so far away that I decide. “For feck’s sake.”

I’m up without thinking, chair scraping back, and I hear Declan curse under his breath as he stands too. Rowan’s slower, deliberate, but he follows.

The hallway outside is narrow, carpeted, the kind that swallows footsteps. Except hers—hers click sharp against it as she heads toward the aft stairwell.

“Willow!” I call, but she doesn’t look back.

She’s quick, and for a second I think she might actually make it to her room before we catch up.

But she slows as she fidgets with her key card, and three sets of strides beat one.

By the time she rounds the corner for her deck, we’re all within arm’s reach, and Declan grabs her first, his hand on the inside of her elbow.

She looks up sharply, her eyes moving from man to man. I get a flash of an image of her and Declan together, and I shut my eyes against it. These are my friends, guys I work with, and she’s…been with all of us. It’s unthinkable. But I’m thinking about it.

“Just—” she starts, and then shakes her head like finishing the sentence would make it real. She swipes, the lock clicks, and she pushes the door open. “Go away.”

She looks panicked, like a child caught with their hand in the candy dish. There’s shame and fear and guilt, and it’s all written on her face. She glances at me, and for some reason, I wink at her.

Confusion dances in the sparkle of her eyes, and I want to take her in my arms and tell her not to worry, that it’s her cruise too. I’m not angry. I’m…jealous. I want her to myself. But I know she deserves everything she wants.

But when I glance at the others, there’s more anger. It’s coursing through them so much it’s visible. Declan’s jaw is tight. Rowan’s tongue keeps running over his teeth.

Finally, Declan breaks the silence with a voice so low it’s almost bass.

“We need to talk.”

Willow

“About what?” I ask, knowing damn well what, my heart thudding in my throat. He—or they, rather—want to talk about how I’ve been playing with them. They’re angry, and they have every right to be. And I have nothing to say.

Sean’s voice is lighter but edged. “You know about what.”

I could tell them to screw off. I could dip inside the open door and lock it. I could avoid them for the rest of the cruise—it’s only one more night. It would be easy.

I never choose easy.

Instead, I sigh and pull back my shoulders, raising my eyes to all of them. Sean in the middle, arms loose at his sides but eyes sharp. Declan solid on the right, broad shoulders filling the hallway. Rowan to the left, dark eyes fixed on me like he’s trying to read the answer before I say it.

Sean tilts his head. “So. Which one of us did you plan to see tonight?”

I swallow. “None of you.”

“And when you say none of us, you mean…”

“That I already got what I wanted, and I wasn’t really…planning on anything else.” I shrug, but I can see that the answer stings. It’s partially true. The part I didn’t say—that I was going to let it go where it went, that I like all of them, that I can’t choose—is worse.

“Convenient,” Declan says, not moving.

Rowan’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You weren’t planning to keep going…with someone else?” His tone is cool, but I hear the blade under it.

I hate that my pulse jumps at the question. “I just mean that I didn’t plan that far ahead. Just…come inside.” I sigh, reluctantly stepping backward against the door and into my room.

With them all in it, the room feels smaller than it ever did before. They don’t crowd me, but they don’t have to—their presence fills the space. I glance at my bed and at them and opt to lean against the wall.

Sean’s the first to speak. “So, we’ve all been with you.” He says it with a cheeky lilt—of all the men, he seems the least angry—maybe even thrilled by the fact.

“I guess so,” I mutter to the floor, my cheeks burning. No point in lying now.

Declan’s jaw flexes. Rowan’s hands are in his pockets, but there’s nothing casual about it.

“You could’ve told us,” Declan says.

“It was supposed to be casual,” I admit, my voice quieter. “A bet, kind of. A joke with my friends that I could…be with all of you. Because I saw you together and—”

“You knew we were friends?” Declan asks.

“I did, but I didn’t know—”

“That we would talk,” Sean cuts in.

“No, that it would feel like this,” I snap before I can stop myself.

“Like what?” Rowan asks.

I look at each of them. “Like…you know…” I trail off, feeling cornered by their attention, by the growing heat. “I wasn’t expecting to like…all of you.” I look down at the ground.

When I look back up, Rowan’s eyes are on mine, cutting into me, that brown that seems almost black. “Do you?”

I nod wordlessly. “What’s it matter anyway? We’ll be docked by morning, and then y’all can go home and talk about the girl you all shared.”

“We didn’t share you,” Sean corrects, and his smile is small, dangerous, his eyes sparkling. He steps forward, and I stumble over my feet retreating backward. “Is that something you’d want, Willow?”

I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat, but it’s stuck there. “Is what something I’d want?” I ask, my eyes glued to his as he keeps stepping toward me, slowly, persistently.

“To be shared. To have three sets of hands on you.” He lowers his voice. “Three tongues.”

Rowan speaks up, his voice sharp and low from a few feet away, his arms crossed. “Three cocks filling your holes.” Sean and Declan look over at him with surprise, but he doesn’t look at them. He never takes his eyes off me.

“I just meant…you can forget about me. It’ll be over. That’s all I mean.” I’m stumbling over my words, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck.

“That’s not what you meant,” Rowan says quietly as Declan murmurs, “Not a hope in hell I’d forget you,” while at the same time Sean says, “Wouldn’t it be a shame to waste the night?”

Declan’s gaze sharpens, flicking to Sean, then back to me. “What are you saying?”

Sean’s staring me down, his gaze moving up and down my body like he’s undressed me already in his mind.

He takes another step toward me, and I feel the world around me tilting as his hands find my collarbone, then drift up to my jaw.

“I’m saying she wants all of us, and we should give the lady what she wants. ”

For a moment, only Sean is touching me, and I feel the piercing eyes of the men on us.

I wrap my arms around his neck, sinking my fingers into his wavy blond hair.

His kiss is electric, only that much more electrifying because of the way Declan’s mouth has fallen open and the way Rowan’s jaw tics.

I close my eyes against their stares and let myself enjoy Sean.

I feel Declan’s hand on my hip, solid and anchoring, and somehow I know it’s his before I hear him say, “If she wants it.”

My lips are parted, my chest heaving with the realization as Sean pulls away to let Declan kiss me, and I hear my own breathless voice saying into his mouth, “Yes.”

Rowan moves in on my other side, lifting the hem of my sundress, his fingers teasing against the backs of my thighs like he did before. This time the air feels charged with static when it hits my skin. “Speak up, pet,” he tells me, his lips finding the soft crease in my neck.

Rowan’s dark eyes don’t look away as his kiss travels down my chest. “Yes, I want it,” I repeat, clearer, louder, as Sean’s lips occupy themselves with my shoulder while he slips the straps of my dress down.

Rowan’s mouth brushes down my chest to one of my nipples that Sean’s exposed.

They’ve both got a hand up my skirt and a mouth on my nipple, and I close my eyes and tip my head back before I feel them lift me and carry me to the bed.

For a heartbeat, nobody moves. Now that I’m on the bed, it’s real.

My skin prickles with awareness under three sets of eyes, my “yes” hanging in the air like a challenge.

It could all stop here if any of us walked away.

Instead, Sean’s thumb sweeps across my cheek, Declan’s grip on my hip tightens, and Rowan’s mouth trails lower.

The choice is made for all of us at once, like a held breath finally exhaled. Three different kinds of heat press in—Sean quick and teasing, Declan steady and sure, Rowan precise and deliberate.

It’s dizzying, not just the touch, but the way they’re all watching each other as much as they’re watching me. A silent challenge in every glance. The rhythm’s set—Sean’s hands mapping my curves like he’s cataloging them, Declan’s weight bracketing me, Rowan’s mouth stealing my breath.

They’re jealous, yes—I can feel it in the way Sean’s kisses turn sharper when Declan makes me gasp, in the way Rowan’s touch lingers a beat longer after Sean moves.

But there’s curiosity too. Acceptance. Desire.

Somewhere between their rivalry and their attention, I forget which hands are whose, which mouth is at my throat, my ribs, my hip. It’s all heat and movement and the low sound of my name in three different voices.

And the last thought I have, before thought itself blurs, is that maybe I was wrong. Maybe this isn’t a game at all.