Chapter Nine
Donovan
I was a complete and utter shit.
And I didn’t give a flying fuck.
As Tyson and Hamish sat in my living room, my inner child danced with glee and I reveled in my success at securing not one but both of my men.
They just…didn’t know they were my men.
Yet.
But the time would soon be upon us.
Tyson held his soda. Hamish nursed his tea in a to-go cup.
“You’re wondering why I brought you here.”
Doc arched an eyebrow. “An hour ago, you called and said you needed some one-to-one counseling. That you weren’t feeling well. And…” He paused dramatically. “Since I’d made a house call to Cole earlier today, would I mind dropping by?”
“I know this is way out of your way—”
He waved off my concern. “I have a car for a reason. I’ve gone as far as Kamloops to offer therapy to those in need.” He glanced at Tyson. “But something tells me this is about more than counseling.”
Tyson tipped his bottle of soda. “And you told me you might’ve remembered something else. Something tells me this is about more than recalling the events of last week.”
Eight days ago.
Had so little time passed?
Eight days obsessing. Eight days remembering. Eight days regretting.
“Yeah…” I bit my lower lip.
Hamish straightened in his seat on the comfortable couch. In fact, both men sat. Neither at the end, but neither in the middle. And Tyson was more sprawled than the doctor’s prim and proper stance.
I stood, cradling my arm. “They’re taking the stitches out at the end of the week.”
“That’s great.” Tyson eyed me. “You in less pain?”
“Yeah, I’ve ditched the painkillers and only have another two days of antibiotics.”
“That’s excellent news.” Hamish sipped his tea. His green eyes held wary curiosity.
“I want to talk about us.” I grinned.
Hamish and Tyson exchanged a look.
“There is no us.” Tyson fingered the label on his soda. “I mean, it’s kind of flattering that you think you want me—”
“I do.”
“But my circumstances haven’t changed. I mean, my boss doesn’t care if I’m gay. Hell, I don’t even think she cares if I’m in a three-way relationship.”
Hamish sputtered.
“But she will care very much if I get involved with the victim of a crime I’m investigating.”
“I’m so fucking tired of being seen as a victim.”
“Perhaps survivor is a better word.” Hamish leaned forward. “We can talk about perceptions and how to try to find a different way to move forward.”
“Sure. Whatever. If it means you’ll both see me differently, then sure, let’s do it.”
Hamish cocked his head. “Reframing would be for your benefit. Like Tyson, my boss doesn’t care that I’m gay. She likely wouldn’t care if I were in a throuple. She would, however, take great umbrage with me seeing a client.”
“Fine. I’m not your client anymore. I fire you. I don’t need you—”
“Donovan—”
But I cut him off, pivoting my glare to Tyson. “I’m quite certain you’ve wrapped up your investigation. You’ve spoken to everyone. You’ve written your report.”
“Sure, but—”
“Now that’s settled, let’s talk about us.”
Again, my men exchanged a look.
“Well, I know Tyson’s an excellent kisser. I think Hamish should find that out for himself.” See? I hadn’t lost it—I could still direct things.
Hamish blinked. “I’m certain Tyson’s very good at kissing. I’m vaguely concerned you’ve kissed him, because Tyson, like me, has professional ethical concerns.”
Tyson winced.
“I’m not going to say anything,” Hamish continued on in a rush. “But you seem like someone who takes these things seriously—”
“I do.”
“Well, so do I.” He looked back at me. “Just because you want me to kiss Tyson doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Look, we both want you to get better—”
“Great…I’ll feel better if you’d kiss.”
Tyson arched an eyebrow. Slowly—ever so slowly—he rose. He put his bottle of soda on the coffee table and approached me.
I had no idea what he planned. Part of me was intrigued. Part of me was terrified. What if this is the kiss off? The forever goodbye?
When he stood before me, our gazes locked.
He stroked his hand along my cheek. “Were you always such a daredevil? I get that you’re putting yourself on the line, but there’s not really a danger for you, is there? Hamish and I could lose everything.”
“I won’t say any—”
“It’s not that.” He leaned in so he could nuzzle my neck. “We’d know. And we’re the type of guys who’d feel obliged to do the right thing.”
Hamish cleared his throat, even as Tyson nipped my Adam’s apple.
“I’m not sure you need me,” Hamish whispered.
Tyson jerked at Hamish’s words. He turned slowly. “Uh, Doc, I would disagree. I know it might seem like we’ve started without you—and maybe we have, to a certain extent—but make no mistake. I want you. Donovan wants you. And not just in the physical sense, although, frankly, yum.”
“This is, frankly, nuts. You barely know me. How can you possibly know that you need me to make this”—he gestured between the three of us—“work?”
I started to move toward him, but Tyson was there first.
He dropped to his haunches and eased Hamish’s thighs apart so he could settle between them.
He gazed up. “You think I’m not attracted to you?
I’ve never had a type. Donovan’s sexy in all kinds of ways…
but you? You call to my spirit. You make me want to open up about the shit in my life.
You make me want to crawl into bed with you, cuddle under the covers, and never come out.
” He grasped Hamish’s hand. “I know it’s too soon.
I get it. But there’s something here, and I feel like we have to explore it. ”
Hamish quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh.” Tyson laughed. “Trust me, we’d do a hell of a lot more than just cuddling.” He ran his hands up and down Hamish’s thighs. Just about reaching the man’s crotch, then pulling back at the last possible moment. “I want to slide into you and stay there forever. Or you can fuck me—”
“Fuck?” That might’ve come out as a squeak.
“Make love,” I was quick to assure. Because Hamish seemed like that kind of guy. A guy who didn’t just go to bed with anyone. A guy who didn’t do one-night stands. Which made me wonder… “Are you ace? Or demi?” Way to blurt it out and put him on the spot…
His lovely green eyes blinked several times. “Uh…is there a right way to answer that? I, uh, haven’t had many partners…”
I wanted to ask exactly how many, but that seemed rude. Had anyone ever taken him to the heights of passion? Could I? Would he let Tyson?
And—most importantly—what if he didn’t feel the same way?
Hamish placed his tea on the side table, then turned his attention back to Tyson. “I don’t know how to do this. I mean, aside from the professional ramifications…” He hiccupped a laugh. “This is beyond my comfort zone.”
Tyson pushed up so his face hovered near Hamish’s. “Just a kiss. I mean, not if you’re not comfortable with this, but—”
In the blink of an eye, Hamish leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Tyson’s.
Part of me wished I had the first taste…
but most of me was just glad they got along so well.
I couldn’t explain why I was so determined to have both men—but I was.
I needed them. Finally, I understood what Cole’d talked about.
How until he had both Caressa and Michael, he hadn’t felt complete.
How he couldn’t envision having one and not the other.
Tyson gently raked his hand through Hamish’s shaggy hair, then cupped the back of his head to tug him closer.
Hamish, for his part, grasped Tyson’s jaw, drawing him nearer.
My cock hardened in my sweatpants. I was glad my arm was almost healed.
Tyson had crawled even closer, and his hands continued to inch up Hamish’s thighs.
He could’ve made a move by now. Likely, he sensed, as I did, Hamish’s reticence.
Well, maybe that was the wrong word. For all his proclamations at having had previous boyfriends, Hamish sure didn’t act suave and sophisticated when it came to physical affection.
He pulled back. “I…uh…” His cheeks were stained crimson red.
“Yeah, me too.” Tyson nodded.
That’s all I got since I could only see the back of his head.
Hamish gazed up at me. “I want you. Too,” he rushed to add, pivoting his attention back to Tyson.
“But you want to stick to Tyson for now because that doesn’t cross your professional boundaries.”
His face relaxed as if my words were the balm he needed—the confirmation I was okay with things the way they were.
I gestured to my arm. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting. Or from watching.”
“Watching?” Hamish might’ve squeaked that.
“Or I can leave.” Please, please, please don’t ask me to leave. Anything but that.
Tyson stroked Hamish’s cheek. “Can I give you a blow job?” He turned so I could see his face, winked, then pivoted his gaze back to Hamish.
Hamish’s eyes were as wide as proverbial saucers.
“Unless that’s not your thing. I mean, you might be ace or demi…” Tyson said the words casually. Just repeating the earlier question.
“I…uh…” Hamish cleared his throat. “I’m not ace. I am capable of sexual attraction. Of wanting to have sex with someone.”
Noting that he hadn’t said needed, I nodded for him to continue.
“Just…” He rubbed his face with his hand. “I haven’t done this a lot.” He groaned. “Like, ever.”
A week ago, meeting a thirty-seven-year-old virgin might’ve shocked me. Hell, I worked in an industry where, at least for some of us, we were pretty free with our attraction to others. And with BDSM, most of the fun was mind fucking—but I had more than a few partners who enjoyed actual fucking.
“Why?” Tyson asked the question gently.
Hamish winced. “I’ve been so focused on my career. Most of the people I meet are within the context of work. Ethics…”
“Yeah.” This time, I winced. “And here I am, asking you to break your moral position.”
“If I’d do it for anyone, it’d be you.” Those deep-green eyes held mine.
“I’ll go—”