Chapter 9
Ivan
Griffin laughed at something Maya said, and I watched his throat move.
We were at the breakfast table, all three of us, like we'd been doing for the past three weeks.
Maya sat between us, stealing bacon off Griffin's plate while he pretended not to notice.
Domestic. Normal. Except nothing about this was normal, and I couldn't stop noticing things I had no business noticing.
Like the way Griffin's forearms flexed when he reached for the coffee pot.
He was leaner than me, narrower shoulders, slimmer build, but there was a quiet strength in his movements.
Or how his voice dropped half an octave when he was tired.
Or the fact that I'd started positioning myself where I could see both of them at once.
Three weeks in, the strangest part wasn't the arrangement itself.
It was that I didn't hate Griffin.
I'd tried. That first week, I'd cataloged every reason to resent him, the way Maya lit up when he walked in, the easy intimacy they shared, the history I couldn't compete with.
But the longer I stayed, the more I noticed other things.
His dry humor. The way he made sure I had coffee before he poured his own.
How he'd catch my eye sometimes and hold it a beat too long, like he was trying to figure me out.
Or like he was waiting for something.
That didn't mean everything was smooth. Yesterday, he'd rearranged the spice rack.
"You alphabetized the spices," I'd said, staring at the cabinet.
"It makes them easier to find."
"It makes you a psychopath."
"Says the man who owns four identical black t-shirts."
"They're not identical. Two are crew neck."
He'd just smiled and handed me the cumin I'd been looking for.
Small shit. The kind of friction that happens when two men share a space neither of them owns.
This morning, I'd taken the chair at the head of the table. Griffin had paused in the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand, one eyebrow raised.
"That's my seat."
"Didn't see your name on it."
"It's implied."
"By what?"
"By the fact that I've been sitting there every morning for two months."
"Sounds like you needed a change."
Maya had rolled her eyes. "Children. Both of you."
He'd taken the seat across from me instead, his expression shifting. Not angry. Just recalibrating. Filing it away. I wasn't sure if that made me want to push harder or back off entirely.
I caught myself watching his hands as he buttered his toast. Long fingers. Precise movements. The same hands I'd seen wrapped around Maya's hips, gripping her waist while she...
I looked away. Took a long pull of my coffee.
What the hell was that?
I'd been noticing Griffin for weeks now. Telling myself it was threat assessment. Sizing up the competition. That's what men did, they evaluated each other. Measured. Compared. It didn't mean anything.
Except my eyes kept finding his jaw. The line of his shoulders when he stretched. The way his shirt pulled across his chest when he reached for something on the top shelf.
A memory surfaced, unbidden. Sophomore year of college. Marcus Chen in the locker room after practice, water streaming down his back, turning to say something to me. I'd looked away so fast I'd nearly given myself whiplash. Hadn't thought about it in years. Hadn't let myself.
My pulse kicked up when Griffin's eyes met mine across the table.
This wasn't me. I didn't want men. I'd never wanted men.
But the lie felt thin, even in my own head.
"We should go out tonight," Maya said, pulling me from my thoughts. "All three of us. There's a new club downtown, Velvet. VIP section, good music."
Griffin raised an eyebrow. "You hate clubs."
"I hate boring clubs. This one has a rooftop." She turned to me. "What do you think?"
"When's the last time you went clubbing?" Griffin asked me.
"Over a year ago."
"With Maya?"
"Yeah." The memory hit harder than expected, her body pressed against mine on a crowded dance floor, her laugh in my ear, her fingers tangled in my shirt.
"I'm in," I said.
* * *
By nine o'clock, we were ready to leave. I walked toward my motorcycle, assuming Maya would ride with Griffin, but she surprised me by heading straight for me instead.
She looked incredible. Black leather skirt that barely covered her thighs, a lace top that left nothing to the imagination. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders.
"For old times' sake?" she asked, nodding at the bike.
A grin split my face. "Thought you'd never ask."
"You good with that?" I called to Griffin.
He was already sliding into his car. "I'll try not to cry the whole way there."
"Appreciate that."
He caught my eye and nodded. No jealousy. No possession. Just acceptance.
The tension in my shoulders eased.
I mounted the Fat Boy and revved it to life. Maya climbed on behind me, her hands wrapping around my stomach, her body pressed tight against my back. The familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine surrounded me, and I felt myself harden.
"Hold on," I said.
Her grip tightened. No matter how many times she'd ridden with me, the speed still made her nervous. I loved it, loved feeling her cling to me, loved the small gasp she made when I took a turn too fast.
We arrived at Velvet twenty minutes later. The line wrapped around the block, but Maya had reservations for the VIP section. Griffin pulled in behind us, and we made our way inside together.
* * *
The bass hit my chest the moment we walked through the door.
Bodies everywhere, grinding, sweating, moving to a beat that vibrated through the floor and into my bones. Strobe lights cut through the darkness in purple and blue slashes. The heat was immediate, oppressive.
"This way," Maya shouted over the music, grabbing my hand.
We pushed through the crowd toward the stairs. Griffin's hand landed on my shoulder as we moved, steadying himself, or maybe just wanting contact. I didn't shake him off.
Upstairs, the VIP section was darker, more intimate. Black leather booths lined the walls, the music muffled just enough that we could hear each other.
Maya slid into the booth first, and I followed, settling beside her. Griffin took the other side, boxing her in between us. A bottle service girl appeared almost immediately.
"Apple vodka," Maya said. "And chasers."
Griffin started pouring as soon as the drinks arrived. He handed me a glass, and when our fingers brushed, I pulled back too fast.
He looked into my eyes.
That look again. Intent. Waiting.
"Thanks," I managed.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine."
Maya was already sipping her drink, her head bobbing to the music. I ran my hand along her bare thigh, needing to touch her, needing to ground myself in something familiar. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers.
She sighed, leaning back against the booth. "I've missed this."
"The club?" Griffin asked.
"All of it." Her eyes were half-closed. "The three of us. Together."
Griffin's hand appeared on her other thigh, mirroring mine. Neither of us stopped the other. Neither of us looked away.
The music pulsed around us, heavy and insistent. Maya's breathing had changed, shallow, quick. She spread her legs slightly, just enough to give us both room, and my heart raced in my chest.
I slid my hand higher. The heat between her thighs radiated against my palm, and when my fingers grazed her center, I froze.
No panties.
I looked at her, and she met my gaze with a wicked gleam in her eyes. The shy Maya I'd left a year ago would never have done this. This Maya was bold. Brazen. And apparently Griffin knew exactly what she was doing, because he was grinning.
"Surprise," she whispered.
"Jesus, Maya."
"Maya can be naughty sometimes," Griffin murmured, close enough that his breath warmed my ear.
My cock throbbed. "I'm beginning to realize."
I slid two fingers between her slick folds, and she gasped, her hips rolling into my touch. She was already drenched, hot and swollen and so fucking ready. I stroked her slowly, circling her clit, pressing against her entrance before retreating.
"Already so wet," I said against her neck.
She whimpered, her head falling back against the booth. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. Griffin watched her face while I worked her with my fingers, his own hand still resting on her thigh, his thumb stroking lazy circles against her skin.
The music was loud around us, and the people in the neighboring booths were too caught up in their own drinks and conversations to notice what was happening in ours. Maya's skirt barely covered where my hand disappeared between her legs, and the darkness did the rest.
I increased my pace, pumping two fingers inside her while my thumb circled her clit. Her walls clenched around me, hot and tight, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"That's it, baby," I murmured. "Let go."
Her body tensed, her thighs clamping around my hand, and I felt her orgasm ripple through her, pulsing, clenching, squeezing my fingers as she came.
When she finally relaxed, I withdrew my hand slowly, my fingers glistening with her arousal. I was about to wipe them on my jeans when Griffin's hand caught my wrist.
My breath stopped.
He held my gaze as he brought my fingers to his lips and licked them clean.
My cock jerked so hard it hurt. I couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but stare at his mouth wrapped around my fingers, his tongue sliding between them, tasting Maya on my skin.
When he released me, his eyes were dark. Hungry. And they weren't looking at Maya anymore.
They were looking at me.
I wasn't watching her anymore either. I was watching him, the sharp line of his jaw, the pale pink of his lips, the way his chest moved with each breath.
He was beautiful. I'd known that from the first moment I saw him, standing in Maya's driveway.
I'd told myself the awareness was threat assessment. Competition.
I'd been lying.
Griffin's hand came up to cup my jaw.
My whole body went rigid.
He leaned in, slow, deliberate, his eyes searching mine for permission I wasn't sure I could give.
I caught a whiff of his cologne, something clean and subtle, nothing like the cedar and bergamot I wore.
We were so different. He was lean where I was broad.
Precise where I was rough. And somehow that contrast made the wanting sharper.
"Tell me to stop," he said.
I didn't.
When his lips brushed against mine, I stopped breathing. My hands hung frozen at my sides. My brain screamed at me to pull back, to laugh it off, to blame the vodka.
I didn't move. Couldn't move.
Griffin pulled back. "Shit." The word came out hoarse. "I'm sorry, I thought..."
I grabbed the back of his neck and crushed my mouth to his.
The kiss was nothing like the tentative brush he'd offered.
This was desperate, teeth and tongue and something close to violence.
I kissed him like I was trying to prove something, to him or to myself, I didn't know which.
His groan vibrated against my lips and I swallowed it, pulled him closer, took everything he was giving.
He tasted like apple vodka and something sweeter, Maya, maybe, still on his tongue. I cupped his face with both hands and took his mouth the way I'd been wanting to without knowing I wanted it. Weeks of denial crashing down around me.
When we broke apart, both of us breathing hard, my hands were shaking.
I stared at him. He stared back. His lips were swollen. His eyes were wide. He looked as wrecked as I felt.
"What the fuck," I whispered. Not a question. Just the only words I had.
Behind him, Maya was watching us, her lips parted, her eyes bright.
I bolted from the booth before either of them could speak.
* * *
The night air hit my face, sharp and sobering.
I paced the sidewalk outside the club, raking both hands through my hair, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened. I'd kissed a man. I'd kissed Griffin. Maya's boyfriend. And I'd liked it, more than liked it. I was still hard and aching and still wanting more.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I'd had women my whole life. Only women. I'd never even questioned it, never wondered, never felt this pull toward anyone with a dick. But the memory of Griffin's mouth under mine, the taste of him, the sound he'd made...
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
The door opened behind me. Maya's heels clicked against the concrete, and then she was standing in front of me, her face flushed, her eyes bright.
"Ivan."
"I'm sorry." The words came out fast. "I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have... if you're upset..."
"I'm not upset." Her voice was steady, but there was an edge underneath it. Excitement.
I stared at her. "What?"
"That was hot."
Griffin appeared beside her, his hands in his pockets, that easy expression back on his face. But his eyes were different now, darker, more intense. Fixed on me with a hunger I recognized because I felt it too.
"I've wanted to do that for a while now," he said.
"You..." My brain short-circuited. "What?"
"Since the night you showed up on that motorcycle." He took a step closer. "I told Maya. She knows."
I looked between them, trying to process. "And you're okay with this? Both of you?"
"More than okay." Maya's hand found mine. "Griffin's been attracted to you since day one. He told me. And I told him that if you two wanted to explore each other, I wouldn't stand in the way."
Griffin moved closer too, until we were standing in a tight triangle on the sidewalk, the bass from the club still vibrating through the ground beneath our feet.
"It doesn't have to be just about Maya," he said. "We're all in this together. If you want to be."
"I don't know what I want." The admission scraped out of me. "I've never... this isn't..."
"I know." Griffin's voice was gentle. "You don't have to figure it out tonight."
I exhaled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. But Griffin wasn't done.
"But you kissed me back," Griffin said softly. "You wanted to."
"Yeah." My throat tightened around the word. "I did."
Silence. The three of us standing there, the question hanging between us.
I swallowed hard. My head was spinning, my heart racing, my cock still painfully hard in my jeans. Everything I thought I knew about myself was crumbling, and somehow it didn't feel like destruction.
It felt like possibility.
I looked at Maya. She was smiling, not nervous, not uncertain, just genuinely happy. I looked at Griffin, and the want in his eyes made my stomach clench.
They were both right in front of me. And for the first time in my life, I didn't want to run from something that scared me.
"Let's go home," I said.