Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
They are completely fucking drunk.
I’ve never seen either of them this inebriated before. They were knocking back their drinks before I even returned to the table. It makes me nervous as they slur their words and reach for me, but when they start talking, all I can do is sit in shock.
“He’s just so cute, right?” Noah slurs, splashing his drink on his hand as he clinks it against Conan’s glass.
Conan nods, covering his mouth as he burps. His cheeks are so pink, they must hurt, and his eyes are completely glazed. “So cute,” Conan replies, “especially when he’s embarrassed.”
“Or angry,” Noah adds loudly, and I see patrons looking our way.
I shrink into my seat, cover my eyes, then peek through my fingers, barely able to comprehend what I’m seeing.
I was worried sick about this meeting. I expected punches to be thrown, but now they are both drunk and pointing out how cute I am.
“He looks so adorable when he’s shouting at me. I have to pretend to take him seriously. I just love him so much, and I have to pretend I don’t, that I’m angry with him,” Noah says. “But he’s just so adorable. I can’t even get jealous because look at him!”
He gestures at me, knocking my drink aside, which I carefully clean up, glancing between them in stunned silence.
“I know,” Conan replies. “He was crying one day, and I comforted him, but the entire time, I was thinking how fucking pretty he looked. Whether he’s smiling, crying, or laughing, he’s just so cute.” He clutches his chest like it hurts. “I have to hold myself back. I just want to devour him whole.”
“You should see him at work. I have to be a good boss and not harass my staff, but he’s covered in oil and sweating and bent over cars,” Noah whispers. “It’s so fucking hot. I’ve thought about dragging him into my office or bending him over those cars so many times.”
“Noah!” I yell as my cheeks heat, a happy feeling washing over me. I never knew he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
He waves at me and leans into Conan, who laughs like they are sharing secrets. “I even walked in on him showering once. Fuck, I had to run to my office. I felt like such a perv.”
“You are a perv,” I mutter.
“He slept in my office, and I woke up and just watched him,” Conan whispers before hiccupping. “He was clinging to me like a kitten, and Jesus, it was the hardest few hours I’ve ever had in my life.”
Shoving to my feet, I point at them as they turn their heads to look at me.
“Okay, enough. Let’s get you both home,” I grumble, feeling embarrassed and happy. Pulling my wallet out, I throw some bills on the table and point at them. “Up, let’s go. I’ll take you both home.”
“I still have a drink,” Conan whines. “Can’t we stay? Daddy is asking nicely.”
I lunge at him, covering his mouth. “Please stop,” I beg.
He tugs on my wrist, and I give him a meaningful look. When I drop my hand, he pouts but nods. “Fine.” He stands and stumbles. I hold my hands out in case he falls, but he grabs his coat and points at Noah. “Let’s go, old man.”
“You’re older than me, I think,” Noah mutters as he tosses back the bottle, but it’s empty. Grumbling, he gets to his feet but stumbles into the table. Rolling my eyes, I sling his arm over me, and Conan wraps his around my waist.
“Brilliant,” I mutter as I try to navigate us through the tables to the door, apologizing to everyone who’s watching in amusement.
Once outside, the fresh air hits us, and they whine.
It takes me ten minutes to cross the lot with them, and once we reach the car, Conan pulls away and starts spinning around, his eyes on the stars.
I watch him nervously as I lean Noah into his car.
“Conan, you’ll fall!” I warn.
He stops and points at the sky. “You’re pretty, but not as pretty as my boy.”
Is he talking to the stars?
Christ.
Looking at Noah, I frown when he just grins. “Where are your keys?”
“Pocket.” His face suddenly pales, and he pinches his nose. “I hate drinking.”
“So why did you do it?” I sigh as I spare Conan a look, but he’s humming to himself as he sways, still looking at the stars.
“Couldn’t let him win,” he mutters as I reach into his front pocket and search for his car keys.
“Stop moving,” I scold as I press Noah against the side of his car and search his pocket for his keys. I’ll take Conan back to get his car in the morning or grab it myself, but there’s no way I’m putting him in a taxi with how drunk he is.
Noah groans, his head falling back against the roof of his car. “Baby, be quick or I’ll become a bigger perv.”
I freeze, looking at him then down at my hand with growing shock. That dirty bastard! Finding his keys, I let him go, and he slumps with his hand over his face. “So fucking cute, too cute. I have to be good,” he mutters.
Hurrying away, I unlock his car and hook my arm under Conan’s again, then I guide him to the back seat. Once there, I reach across and fasten his seatbelt.
“My little baby.” He sighs as he presses his lips and nose to my cheek. “You smell and feel so good.” Conan reaches for me and tries to yank me down onto his lap. “Come sleep here with me. I’ll be good, unlike that perv.”
Slapping his hands away, I huff while I manage to struggle out of his grip. His head lolls to the side as his eyes close, and I shut the door, ignoring the fast pace of my heart caused by his wandering hands.
They are going to kill me.
Heading back to Noah, I open his door and help him inside as he collapses in the car.
“Such a sexy ass,” Noah grumbles as he grabs it. His eyes narrow when I smack his hand away, and his lips push out in an adorable little pout. “You’re mine. I want to touch.”
“I’m trying to get us home,” I snap as I pat his cheek. “Be a good boy.”
“Mine.” He continues to pout, and I have to bite back a smile.
“Yes, yours, now sleep. I’ll wake you when we get back.” Shutting the door, I suck in a breath of cool air and look to the heavens. Who knew having two boyfriends would be so testing?
My house seemed like the safest choice, but Noah’s was closer and he was gagging, so Noah’s it is.
I hope Conan isn’t upset, but if Noah threw up in his car, he would be so mad.
It’s hard as hell to get them both inside and even harder to get them upstairs.
I try to put Conan in the spare bedroom, but he leans into the door, his eyes narrowed.
“And where are you sleeping?” he whines.
“I’ll sleep downstairs,” I mutter.
“No, I want to cuddle you,” Noah snaps, still drunk and falling, but at least he isn’t gagging anymore.
“Me too!” Conan protests.
“Fine, you two can sleep wherever. I’ll sleep in here!” I snap, done with them. I kick open the door and strip off my shoes, then I crawl into the bed and lie back, my hand over my face.
The bed dips suddenly, and I sit upright to see Conan crawling up the bed. He throws himself back to the mattress, resting his head on my shoulder and slinging one leg over mine, his arm across my stomach.
I gape until the bed dips again, and I watch in shock as Noah tosses himself down on my right side. He drags me closer, covering my other leg with his and resting his head on top of mine as his hand slides down my chest.
Their hands must touch because they slap each other over my chest and stomach, and I narrow my eyes. “If you don’t stop, I’ll leave,” I warn.
They stop, and I close my eyes again. “It’s your fault,” Noah grumbles.
“Yours,” Conan argues.
“Both of you, go to sleep,” I order.
“Good night, baby.” Noah kisses my head, and all my annoyance flees at his soft, loving tone.
“Night, Mack.” Conan sighs against my throat. “Dream of us.”