Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I catch Boone’s eye across the table, a slow, knowing smile curving his mouth. “It feels like it’s been forever since we all sat down together.”
“Yeah.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and try to look at ease. “It’s nice. You even used cloth napkins instead of paper towel.”
Chance chuckles. “We’re classing it up for you, babe.”
“Careful,” I says lightly. “I might start expecting actual silver next time.”
Dillon leans back in his chair with his wine glass in hand. Naturally, he sees right through my pretense and promptly calls me out on it. “You seem nervous.”
I freeze for half a second, then force a laugh. “Do I?”
“Yep.”
“Then it’s probably because I’m waiting for whatever it is you want to propose.”
Dillon smirks, exchanging a look with everyone else that says, It’s time.
I let out a quiet sigh, then rake my fingers through my dark hair.
“We said we’d be honest tonight. We don’t want to keep any secrets from you anymore.” Boone says.
“Okay. That sounds ominous.”
Chance meets my eyes, steady and calm on the surface, but underneath that, those greenish-gold hazels glow with heat. “We want to tell you the truth about us. About how we do relationships.”
“Relationships?”
Dillon nods, an impish grin on his face as he comes right out and says it. “We don’t just share in the bedroom. We share a life.”
“It’s not about ownership or control,” Boone explains patiently. “It’s about trust. Connection. We’ve all dated separately before, but it never felt right. When we’re with someone and we’re in it together, everything just clicks.”
“And you’re telling me this because?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light even though my pulse is doing double time.
Chance’s voice is quiet. “Because we’re interested. In you.”
Oh. Oh.
Everything else drops out of my brain. Every thought about who they are and what I’ve learned about them. The pieces I’m still trying to put together.
Dillon smiles faintly. “We figured honesty was the best policy before anyone got more… tangled up.”
“I see,” I say, though my brain is definitely not allowing me to see clearly at all right now.
Boone’s gaze softens when I look back at him. “No matter what you decide, your position in the company is safe. This would be entirely separate from that. You also don’t have to say anything tonight. Or ever, if you don’t want to. We just wanted to be up front.”
“We also want you to know, before you even have to ask, that we’re all clean,” Chance says. “Regular testing, no surprises. You’re safe with us.”
That probably shouldn’t make my cheeks heat after everything we’ve done together already, but it does. They’re so casual about it, so unapologetically direct. There’s no shame and no awkward fumbling.
Just facts.
And that does something to me. All the things. All the very bad things that should not happen while one is enjoying a perfectly cooked meal by candlelight.
I clear my throat in an effort to distract myself from the fact that my heart is suddenly pounding way further south than usual. “That’s, um… very responsible of you.”
A faint smile ghosts across Boone’s lips. “We try.”
Dillon tilts his head, those incredibly intense blues glinting with humor as his gaze catches mine and holds it. “You’re not running for the hills, so I’m guessing we didn’t completely freak you out.”
I give him a little shrug and, though I know it’s unlikely that he’ll buy it, I pretend my heart isn’t thudding in my crotch and every nerve ending I possess isn’t blazing with need. “The only thing I’m surprised about is that you decided to tell me all this over lasagna and pinot noir. It’s not exactly the usual kind of conversation you have at the dinner table.”
Chance grins. “Maybe not, but we’re not exactly the usual kind of men.”
As I look at all three of them in turn, I don’t know what possesses me to laugh, but I do. Maybe it’s the fact that this whole conversation feels so unreal, like someone has taken my quiet, careful hiding place and dropped it right into the middle of a fantasy I didn’t even know I had.
“I, uh, God, this is weird to just blurt out over dinner, but until the other day, I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. I’m clean too.”
That gets their attention. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that it’s been that long or the insinuation that by telling them, I’m letting them know that I’m interested too, but suddenly, three pairs of very different eyes are intently fixed on me.
The air in the room shifts into something dense and electric, almost like that feeling you get the moment before a storm breaks. Chance sets his glass down slowly. “Over a year?”
I nod, unable to suppress a burst of shaky, nervous, high-pitched laughter. “What can I say? I’ve been busy.”