Chapter Eleven
Hamish
The luxury of the interior of the cabin effortlessly matched the outside. Easily the size of a regular house, the edifice sat cozily in the forest almost like this was the original plan. Well, it probably had been.
Donovan insisted I take the largest bedroom. With the biggest ensuite bathroom. Jetted tub and shower that, yes, would fit four people easily.
The bedrooms he and Tyson shared also had ensuites. This place just had wonderful amenities at each turn.
After washing our hands, we set to work in the chef’s kitchen.
Donovan carved the precooked rotisserie barbecue chicken he and Tyson would share.
I cut up tofu and then made a stir-fry. I made enough so the others could have it as a side dish.
We worked together quickly and efficiently—probably prompted by the fact we were all likely damn hungry.
Lunch was, at least for me, a distant memory.
Soon, we sat at the large dining table. Donovan insisted I sit at the head of the table with him to my right and Tyson to my left.
This constant insistence I be given preferential treatment overwhelmed me at times. Not so much because I felt Donovan should be in the alpha position—he was running the show, after all—but because I wanted us to be equals.
Yeah, but with your total lack of experience in the sexual realm, there’s no way things can be equal.
“This stir-fry is amazing.” Tyson made the comment even as Donovan’s mouth was full with the concoction. He hadn’t even touched his chicken. “I know tofu is healthy—but I rarely touch the stuff.”
I chuckled. “I have an entire recipe book. I can give it to you.”
“Oh no, it’s your book.” His expression was that of horror as his eyes went wide.
“I’ve cooked all the recipes multiple times. I’m certain I could accurately replicate them.” I offered a smile. “Or I can just go to my local bookstore and have them order one for me.”
Donovan chuckled. “Or you can lend it to him. Eventually, you would have to ask for it back—another excuse to meet.”
Tyson snorted. “Why would I need to come up with an excuse? You’ll just do it for me.” He arched an eyebrow.
This time, Donovan met that stare with what I could only term a wicked grin. “That’s true enough.”
“You have plans.” I eyed him. “You’re up to something.”
“He’s always up to something.” Tyson gazed back and forth between the two of us. “The question is whether or not we’re going to allow ourselves to be manipulated all the time.”
“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?” I speared a bean sprout.
Donovan stuck his lower lip out in a clear attempt to pout. “I needed you.”
Tyson snickered.
“Hey!” He appeared to attempt to be incensed.
“Tyson’s right—you manipulated us.”
Now Donovan pursed his lips. “I am having trouble sleeping. Might be because you’re not in my bed—” He gestured between the two of us.
The third man in this awkward equation rolled his eyes. “You wanted to be with Hamish, and you thought if I was along for the ride that would make it okay.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m sorry you got dragged—”
“No apologies.” Donovan held his fork up—poised to…what?
I couldn’t figure it out. “I can apologize if I feel I’m in the wrong. I thought I needed backup—”
“You did.” Tyson arched his eyebrow and directed his stare at Donovan. “Because what you really want is Hamish at your mercy.”
“What?” I might’ve squeaked that.
Donovan laughed. Heartily. “Remembering our conversation?”
I laid my fork on my plate and slowly raised my hand. “Obviously, this was a conversation I wasn’t a part of.”
Tyson eyed me. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He pivoted his attention back to Donovan. “TMI?”
“Oh, I think it’s fair that Hamish know what you know.” He forked a piece of chicken. “That said, we should establish some ground rules for this relationship.”
“What relationship? I’m your counselor—”
“You need to withdraw from that.” Tyson swallowed.
“And I need to hand over the investigation. Well, it’s mostly done, and I don’t believe my involvement in this”—he gestured between the three of us—“will jeopardize things. But I need to speak to my sergeant. I should’ve done it before now.
I just thought…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I thought. ”
“That your investigation would be wrapped up by now?” I picked my fork up again, but my ravenous hunger waned. “Or that I would be strong enough to resist him?”
Donovan smiled. Not lasciviously—but also not what I’d term a normal smile. Something lurked behind his eyes, and I didn’t trust it.
You shouldn’t have before, and look where you’ve wound up. Right where he wants you.
Yeah, but also where I want to be.
I couldn’t argue with that. At the moment, no matter how awkward things were, I wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else. Not even ensconced in my condo and hunkered down with eggplant parmesan at the end of a very long week.
“Resisting him has little to do with this.” Tyson met my gaze. “Because I was planning to pursue you when things were over.” He smiled. This one was tender and kind. “I’ve kind of got a thing for near-virgin ginger vegetarian psychologists.”
Had the heat receded? Well, damn thing was back. My cheeks probably resembled Rudolph’s damn nose. I managed a smile. “It’s mutual. I don’t know what this is.” I gestured between the three of us. “I just…I’m so confused.”
“This is us having a discussion about what the parameters of the relationship will look like moving forward.” Donovan wiped his lips with the lovely forest-green linen napkin with silver filagree.
Far more delicate than this rustic—although luxurious—place deserved. The contradictions weren’t lost on me. “I’m not going to ask what relationship. We’re clearly beyond that.” I laid my fork in the five-o’clock position. “But what parameters are you thinking about?”
“Well, for starters—how do we facilitate communication? Okay, everyone get out their phones.” Donovan did exactly that.
“At the table?” Call me old-fashioned, but I think this is wrong. Still, I was completely incapable of disobeying Donovan, so I did exactly that.
We’d all hooked up to the Wi-Fi when we’d arrived—such a telling and classic and very twenty-first-century move.
Tyson followed suit.
“I’m creating a group chat.” Donovan proceeded to do exactly that.
My phone buzzed.
—I’m going to get both of you into my bed soon.—
I nearly choked on the sip of water I’d just taken. I swallowed without spewing. But barely. “That’s terribly presumptuous.”
Tyson chuckled. “But I find it advantageous to lay things on the line.” He met my gaze. “I can drive you back to Vancouver at any time. It’s a quick ride. Or to Mission City where we can find you a hotel. You’re not obliged to stay.” He glared at Donovan. “Especially if you don’t want to.”
But I do want. I want very, very, very much. “Okay, so let’s take bed off the table for a moment.” I laid my phone on the table—screen down.
“Fair enough. I want you to stay, but as Tyson said, you’re free to leave at any time. This entire relationship is based on free will. Okay? For all of us. You choose to walk away, and there are no recriminations. You don’t want to do something? Just say so. I’ll never coerce—”
Tyson snickered.
Donovan gave him a long stare. Then pivoted his attention back to me. “We’re consenting adults. In every relationship I’ve ever had—and there’ve been more than a few—consent was always front and center. Always.” He said the word with emphasis.
I cleared my throat. “How many relationships are we talking about?” He was just thirty-two. Although, these days, that meant little. “Oh, never mind. None of my business.”
Donovan reached over and placed his hand over mine.
I startled at the contact. This is so wrong…and yet so right.
The pads of his fingers were rough compared to what I knew was my smooth skin. He worked with his hands all day while my greatest exertion was typing on the keyboard.
“You deserve honesty.” He squeezed my hand. Then he cut Tyson a glance before turning his attention back to me. “Actual romantic relationships? Very few. But people I’ve played with? Many, many, many.”
“Oh.” Right. Played. BDSM. Stay cool and pretend like this happens all the time. Having my bosses in a BDSM relationship should’ve prepared me for this moment—but it hadn’t.
“If this conversation makes you uncomfortable—” Tyson met my gaze.
I shook my head. “I’ve counseled people in the lifestyle. Another triad, for example.”
“The multinational one?” Donovan smiled.
Crap.
“It’s okay.”
I cocked my head.
“I know Kimberly, MacKenzie, and Joaquin.”
My jaw dropped.
Donovan chuckled. “Club Kink isn’t that big of a place. Cole knows them as well.”
I closed my eyes to block out the monumental breach of privacy I’d created.
He shrugged. “Kimberly, in a moment of Doms and Dommes talking, said she’d spoken to someone in counseling.
At the men’s insistence. Because they were worried about how she might view their moving to Canada with very little fuss.
” He scratched his stubble. “We pointed out that the political climate in both the men’s home countries could be dicey.
Now, is Vancouver colder than Buenos Aires and Texas?
Sure. Are the men the happiest they’ve ever been?
Yes to that as well. Look, I never mentioned Club Kink—because I didn’t want to freak you out.
So you had no way of knowing I was acquainted with them.
I think you were merely pointing out that triads can work.
You reassured Cole and Caressa. And Michael. Which, I assumed, was your intent.”
Making it clear the four of them had discussed not only my visit but the content of what I’d said. “I’d still appreciate if you didn’t say this to anyone else.”
“Of course.”
“I won’t either.” Tyson took my other hand and squeezed it. His fingertips were smoother than Donovan’s—but still rough to the touch. “Look…a momentary indiscretion isn’t the end of the world. I’ve found people in the BDSM community are generally open about their relationship.”
“I doubt their employers know.” I swallowed hard.
“And none of us are going to tell them. So lesson learned.”
Is it really that simple? My guard’s down with these two. And apparently, with Cole and Caressa as well. God only knew what I’d say to Michael when I finally met him. Well, if I ever met him.
Tyson’s gaze strayed to Donovan. “So are you going to share?”
Donovan cleared his throat. “I’m a Dominant.
I like to have people surrender to me. But as I said, always consensually.
The scene, or relationship, isn’t fun if both people aren’t consenting and things aren’t negotiated.
” He squeezed my hand again. “And I’ve had plenty of partners.
We call those participants bottoms or submissives. ”
I forced out a laugh. “Even I know that much.” Barely. But he doesn’t need to know that. “You’re proposing I, uh, submit to you?”
“He’s proposing we both submit to him.” Tyson chuckled. “I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen.”
“Oh, it will. I’m good at convincing people.
” Donovan turned back to me. “I’ve had many play partners—a bunch as repeats—but I’ve never had a serious relationship.
I mean one like Cole has with Caressa and Michael.
In fact, Cole had never had one either.” He pursed his lips.
“I’m not speaking out of turn, but Michael was much the same.
Caressa was involved with a sleazebag, but Cole and Michael put an end to that. ”
“I’m curious what put an end to that means, but I suspect I don’t want to know.”
Donovan chuckled. “No, probably not. Nothing illegal.” He held up the hand that wasn’t gripping mine to Tyson.
Tyson snorted. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I own that.” Donovan turned back to me. “So what Tyson is pointing out is that I’m interested in some form of a BDSM relationship with you. Now, that might mean playing, that might mean submission, or—if you want nothing to do with it—then I walk away from BDSM altogether.”
After a moment, Tyson cocked his head. “Are you even capable of that?”
Slowly, Donovan nodded. “Yeah, I am. I think Cole has. For the right people.”
“But you’d miss it.” I squeezed Donovan’s hand. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I certainly won’t rule out something, uh, kinky in the future. But I’m not agreeing either.”
“Before you do, make certain you talk about negotiated catharsis.” Tyson released my hand. “Are we finished with dinner? I spotted a cherry pie that I can’t wait to heat up so we can dig into it.”
I pushed my plate away. “I’m finished. I’m not certain I’ll have room for pie.”
“By the time it’s warm, I’m certain you will be.” Donovan winked. “Cherry pie is the best.”
Yep. More heat flooding to my cheeks.
Fuck my life.
Also…I’ve never been happier.