What He Left Behind (16 page)

Ian laughs. “Yeah. What he said.”

They both turn to me. I show my palms. “Hey, don’t look at me for the voice of reason. I’ve been fantasizing about the two of you at once for ten years.”

“Oh,
have
you now?” Ian asks.

“Are you really surprised?”

His lips quirk. “Actually, no. And I may have thought about it once or twice myself.”

“Uh-huh.” Michael raises an eyebrow. “Is this why you guys kept inviting me over to hang out in the hot tub?”

Ian and I both laugh and shake our heads.

“No, of course not.” I shrug. “But, I mean, it didn’t
hurt
…”

Michael snorts, rolling his eyes. “Guess I should’ve brought over some stronger wine.”

Ian wrinkles his nose. “Assuming it didn’t taste like the horse piss you brought last time.”

Shaking a finger at him, Michael says, “Shiraz. Christmas. Your argument is invalid.”

We all laugh again, and they nudge each other playfully.

As the moment passes, Ian turns to Michael again. “In all seriousness, this arrangement”—he gestures at all three of us—“obviously works. And if this helps exorcise some of that jerkoff’s demons, then I’m definitely in.”

“Thank you,” Michael whispers, caressing Ian’s face.

Ian kisses his wrist. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight if you want.” He meets my eyes and his eyebrows flick up.
Right?

I nod. “Definitely.”

Michael smiles but shakes his head. “I can’t leave Cody for the night, or I definitely would.”

“Completely understandable.” Ian turns Michael’s head toward him and gives him a tender kiss. “Why don’t you bring him next time? Ariel wouldn’t mind some company.”

Michael laughs. “Well, Cody hasn’t had a playdate in a while.”

I chuckle. “Guess that means he gets one, and so do you.”

“Perfect.”

“Yes, it is.” Ian kisses Michael again. “The dogs will be entertained, and we can have you all night.”

Michael just shivers.

So do I.

Chapter Sixteen

Michael isn’t just comfortable with Ian as well as with me—the three of us can’t get enough of each other. I can’t even say for sure if it’s in the name of helping Michael anymore, or if we’ve just turned something loose that doesn’t want to be contained again. Our hot tub nights take on a whole new dimension. And Michael’s at our house—and in our bed—more evenings than not. I don’t think Ian’s ever been so insatiable, not even back when we were both bathhouse sluts, and Michael’s in heaven.

We aren’t even having sex all the time. Dinner. Movies. Trips to the dog park with Ariel and Cody. But even when we’re clothed and out in public, that undercurrent remains. Subtle touches. Less than subtle looks. We’ve spent time with Michael for years, and we’re doing a lot of the things we’ve done all that time, but it’s never been quite like this. As if there’s always an unspoken
Just wait until we get home
.

The evenings when we don’t go out are almost comically routine. Ian gets home first. Michael usually shows up around seven. I get there shortly after that. There’s small talk in the kitchen, maybe a bottle of wine if anyone wants it, and someone finally makes a move. A flirtatious comment here. A playful ass grab there. Then we’re off and running until Michael has to drag himself out to his car and head home. Unless, of course, he stays over—I love those nights. Falling asleep naked between Michael and Ian is becoming such a comfortable, sexy part of our routine, it’s starting to feel strange when he’s not here. Rosie’s even getting used to the idea of an extra dog hanging around.

So when I get home from work this evening, my whole body gets warmer at the sight of Michael’s car in the driveway and Cody playing in the backyard with Ariel. As I pull into the garage beside Ian’s car, my pulse shoots skyward as if this is the first time. The novelty definitely hasn’t worn off.

I can’t help grinning as I get out of the car.

I step into the foyer, and—

Stop dead.

Oh my God.

I’ve seen a lot of incredibly hot things in my life, especially recently, but all that pales in comparison to what’s playing out right now—my husband kneeling in front of the couch, head bobbing over my best friend’s lap.

Michael’s been resistant to oral since the first night. They’ve tried a few times, but he’s shied away, and Ian never, ever pushes.

And now…

This?

Neither of them responds to my presence. Maybe they don’t hear me. Maybe they’re too caught up in the moment. Knowing how talented Ian’s mouth is, I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael’s forgotten his own name by now. His fingers rake through Ian’s dark hair, and his eyes are closed and his teeth are digging into his lower lip, and my cock is getting hard before I’ve even toed the door shut.

I set my jacket down and loosen my tie. My legs don’t quite remember how to work, but somehow, I convince them to carry me across the foyer and into the living room. And from the doorway, I just stare.

Michael exhales slowly, running his fingers through Ian’s hair. It’s impossible to tell what Ian’s doing—deep-throating, licking his way up and down the shaft, focusing on the sensitive head—only that Michael loves it. If the two of them had to banish any demons before they got this far, it doesn’t show.

“Oh, shit, that’s good.” Michael’s head lolls to the side. His back arches as his fingers twitch in Ian’s hair.

I ease myself onto the couch beside Michael, and his eyes slide open. He reaches for me, draws me in—I swear to God, if I wasn’t hard already, his mouth would have changed that in an instant. His kiss sends shivers all the way through me, curling my toes inside my shoes.

Between kisses, I murmur, “I hope you’re not gonna come quite yet.” I’m surprised I get the words out at all, never mind audibly.

“If he keeps…” Michael looks down and sweeps his tongue across his lips. “If he keeps doing this…”

Ian’s eyes flick up. My body temperature soars.

“Maybe he should.” I hook a finger under Michael’s chin and turn him back toward me. “Then we’ll just have to make you come again later.”

Michael whimpers, and I silence him with a kiss. He wriggles against me and slides his hand over my lap, and now it’s my turn to squirm.

In front of us, Ian moans softly. I look down, and he’s picked up speed, taking Michael deeper in his mouth and adding a little twist with his hand, and Michael’s palm presses harder against my cock.

I nibble Michael’s earlobe. “Don’t hold back. This isn’t going to be the last time you come tonight.”

He presses the heel of his hand against my dick and kneads my balls with his fingers—not enough to hurt but damn sure enough to make my breath catch. His head falls back against the couch, and I kiss his exposed throat, my cock getting even harder beneath his hand as my lips explore that hot, smooth flesh.

“B-both of you. Don’t stop. Please…”

We’re not stopping for anything. Michael’s breathing so fast now, and when I slide my hand over his chest, his heart is pounding. His sharp huffs of breath turn to whispered curses. He squeezes my cock, the touch bordering on painful and turning me on like crazy, and I murmur “
fuck
” against his neck.

He inhales. Holds it. His fingers twitch. His heart pounds.

And then he releases a ragged breath and shudders hard, fucking into Ian’s mouth as much as he can in this position, and if I know Ian, he’s on the verge of coming himself as Michael lets go.

“Jesus Christ.” With one last shudder, Michael sinks back against the couch. He covers his face with a shaking hand, and Ian and I exchange grins as Michael trembles between us.

“We should really go upstairs.” I gently remove Michael’s other hand from my groin so I can think. “Much more room up there.”

“Good idea,” Michael murmurs.

“Agreed.” Ian gingerly stands, cursing under his breath as his knees and ankles pop. As he does, Michael gazes longingly at the thick bulge beneath Ian’s jeans, and I know that look—he wants to blow Ian. He made it past one barrier tonight, and now he can handle Ian going down on him, and I can see in his eyes how badly he wants to return the favor.

But he doesn’t. That’s one line he just hasn’t been able to cross yet. Not even with me.

My stomach tightens. Night after night, the three of us fuck like rabbits, Michael getting more and more confident with every touch, and
still
Steve manages to keep a chokehold on him.

We’ll get there. I refuse to believe we won’t.

And for now, there are plenty of other ways to keep Michael’s mouth entertained.

I gently turn his head toward me, grin and pull him into a kiss.

Afterward, the three of us lie beneath the sheets, Michael in the middle again. Ian gets up to let the dogs in—though they stay downstairs—and joins us again, draping an arm over Michael and propping himself up on his elbow, facing us both.

“Are they tired out?” Michael asks.

“Pretty sure they’ll sleep well tonight.” Ian kisses him. “Pretty sure
you’ll
sleep well tonight.”

“Kind of hard not to after you guys are done with me.”

I chuckle and kiss the top of his shoulder. “I don’t think there’ll be any insomnia in this house any time soon.”

“Definitely not,” Ian says.

I watch them both for a moment. “So, I see you two have gotten comfortable with each other.”

“We already were,” Michael says.

“But enough for oral?”

Michael nods as he runs his fingers along Ian’s arm. “I think it was a foregone conclusion that it would happen eventually.”

I smile. “That’s probably the most optimistic thing you’ve said since we started out.”

He smiles too. “I guess you guys are fucking the cynic right out of me.” He and Ian exchange grins, and Michael shrugs. “Tonight, I decided I was tired of getting so hung up on oral. Because I
know
I love it—I just had to get past that mental barrier. We started kissing before you got home, and—”

“That was fucking hot,” Ian whispers. “One minute, we’re kissing on the couch. The next, he’s asking if the offer is still open to suck his dick.” He shivers, running a hand over Michael’s hip. “Damn right it was.”

“Yeah, it was.” Michael lifts his head and kisses Ian lightly. “Thank you, by the way. It seems like such a stupid thing to get hung up—”

“You don’t have to justify any of this, Michael.” Ian rests his hand in the middle of Michael’s chest. “You’ve been through hell. Getting past that is a process.”

“Still.” Michael swallows. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ian kisses him, then turns to me. “You’re, um, not upset, are you? About us starting without you tonight?”

“No, definitely not.” I shake my head. “I was just thinking.” I study them both. “Out of curiosity, when you guys started fooling around tonight, would it…” I hesitate. “Would it have been different if I hadn’t been on my way?”

They exchange puzzled glances.

“How so?” Michael asks.

“I mean, do you think you’d be completely comfortable one-on-one with Ian?”

Ian’s eyebrows jump.

Michael’s eyes lose focus. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Josh does have a point,” Ian says. “Whenever you and I have been together, Josh has been here, or he’s been well on his way. We didn’t even get started tonight until, what, ten minutes before he got home?” He trails the backs of his fingers up Michael’s arm. “If you want to see what it’s like without him as a safety net, then—”

“I don’t see how I’d freak out with you, though.” Michael smiles. “I know you. I trust you.”

“Exactly,” I say. “So it makes perfect sense. If some nerves or past trauma come out at an inopportune moment, you’ll be in good hands. I know it’s kind of baby steps, but that’s probably the best thing, you know?” I search Michael’s eyes. “Only if you want to, though. Of course.”

“I do.” Michael chews his lip. “But you guys have already gone above and beyond for me. I don’t this to turn into something that’ll cause problems between you two.”

“It won’t.” Ian squeezes his arm. “If there was a problem, none of us would be here in the first place.”

Michael’s eyebrows pull together. “So…”

“If you’re game to try,” Ian puts a hand over Michael’s. “There’s one way to find out if you’re comfortable with just me.” To me, he says, “If you’re really okay with it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

We both turn to Michael, and he shrinks back slightly, as if the double scrutiny is more than he can handle.

I slide my hand under his and Ian’s. “It’s up to you. If you’d rather keep to all three of us…”

“No, I trust Ian. There is.” Michael glances at me, then turns to Ian. “Meet me at my apartment tomorrow night? After work?”

“Let’s do this.” Ian grins, and I hope to God Michael feels the same tingle of anticipation I do.

After a moment, he returns Ian’s grin. “I can’t wait.”

Chapter Seventeen

Tonight’s the night.

Ian isn’t home when I get there. His car is gone. The dog is whining and bouncing, eager for attention. The laptop on the table is closed, all the papers tucked away in an attaché case. Rosie is peering at me as if it’s my fault that Ian isn’t here, and how
dare
I come home without him?

“Sorry, sweetie.” I scratch her ears but stop before she swats me. “He’ll be home later.”

How much later? I stop in my tracks. My visits with Michael haven’t been overnight, but no one explicitly decided whether this one would be. Do I wait up?

I shake my head and head into the kitchen to make myself something to eat. This is hardly the first time I’ve come home to an empty house, and I can handle it. I always have.

But his absence is painfully conspicuous tonight.

This is a good thing, I remind myself. Michael’s comfortable enough with Ian to be alone with him. I trust Ian—Michael’s in good hands, and Ian will come home to me. If not tonight, then tomorrow.

Now if I could convince my brain to stop panicking over it and turning it into something it’s not, I’d be in good shape. Ian isn’t having an affair any more than I was. Michael isn’t going to wind up traumatized all over again because Ian won’t let that happen. Ian will come home at the end of the night, and everything will continue as normal. Well, some shade of normal, anyway.

Thinking about it isn’t going to accomplish anything, so I do the best I can to distract myself.

After a quick dinner, I take Ariel out into the yard. Immediately, she grabs a stick and runs up to me, tail wagging so hard she’s whipping herself in the sides. I’m glad she doesn’t have her tail docked like most boxers, but damn, that’s gotta hurt. When I toss the stick, she turns, and her tail cracks me in the knee.

“Shit, dog,” I mutter, eyes watering as she takes off to get the stick.

She brings the stick back and drops it, and since I’m still leaning over to rub my knee, she slurps me in the face for good measure. Laughing, I gently nudge her away and toss the stick again. The pain fades, of course. I can’t even be mad at her—hell, I’m impressed. That tail’s a damned weapon.

I throw the stick a couple dozen times, but my arm’s getting tired well before my dog is.

“You need someone who can throw it farther,” I tell her as I put the stick in the box where all her outdoor toys end up. “Michael’s a pitcher—ask him when he comes over.”

Michael.

Fuck.

So much for distracting myself.

I take Ariel back inside and do a double take.

“Rosie.” I snap my fingers. “Get off the counter.”

She glares at me, as if to say
Make me, asshole
.

I roll my eyes and reach for her. She lifts her paw, daring me to actually pick her up.

“Really?” I return the glare. “You never get up there when Dad’s home. What the hell.”

The paw stays up, her blue eyes narrow and her ears start to go down. All Ian would have to do right now is give her a look, and she’d jump down without a fuss. Then again, she wouldn’t have gotten up there if he were here, so it would’ve been a moot point.

“Down.” I put my arm over her and scoop her off the counter. Naturally, she bites me—not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to let me know she is displeased. When I set her on the floor, she hisses.

“Sorry, kiddo. Dad’s not here. You’re stuck with me and Ariel tonight.”

Her ears go all the way down, and I wonder if she actually understood me or if it’s just her usual disdain. Either way, she didn’t authorize Ian’s absence this evening, and if I know what’s good for me, I’ll conjure him from thin air to do her bidding.

Then she turns away and saunters out of the room. She’ll probably go terrorize Ariel now, but at least she doesn’t use her claws on the poor dog.

Alone in the kitchen, I drum my fingers on the counter where the cat was defiantly sitting a moment ago. Between the two guys, I haven’t had much time to myself in ages. Really, not since Michael and I started sleeping together. And now, I probably have a few hours. Knowing Ian and Michael, they’ll fill any downtime with talk about baseball or football, so I don’t expect him home any time soon.

So now I just…need to figure out…what to do…

I blow out a breath in the silent kitchen. Is this how Ian feels every time I’m alone with Michael? If it bothered him, he’d have said something, but it’s weird to be in his shoes this evening.

A few chores around the house keep me busy for a while. Dishes. Some routine cleaning and tidying upstairs. Sorting a month’s worth of junk mail. Litter boxes. Topping off water dispensers for both animals. Ian and I keep the place pretty neat, though, and our animals are relatively low maintenance, so there’s only so much to do unless I want to start pressure-washing the driveway or something.

It does kill some time, though. Once I’m done, I park on the couch to catch up on some Walking Dead. Can’t exactly watch that with Ian around. Ariel jumps up beside me, flops down and rests her head on my leg. Rosie sits on the back of the armchair, peering down at us.

For the next couple of hours, I lose myself in watching a bunch of allegedly intelligent people routinely paint themselves into corners and fall victim to zombies. Ian’s probably right that it’s a stupid show, and I can’t get through an episode without at least one facepalm and a muttered “Are you kidding me?”, but it’s entertaining as hell. And Daryl’s hot, which makes up for pretty much everything.

Halfway through the sixth episode of the evening, my phone vibrates. A million imaginary texts flood my mind, and for the two seconds it takes me to get the phone from the coffee table and look at the screen, I’m suddenly and irrationally convinced that every possible worst case scenario is taking place.

But Ian’s name comes up, followed by:
On my way home
.

All the worry vanishes in favor of the fluttery, giddy feeling I used to get when we were dating. When he’d text me to let me know he was heading over to my apartment, and I’d start counting down the minutes until he was there. Because I knew exactly how long it took for him to get from his place to mine, just like I know down to the nanosecond how long it takes to get here from Michael’s.

Maybe I left a chore or two undone. There’s got to be something I can do for the next forty-seven minutes.

I look at the TV screen. This episode is halfway over, but that’ll kill at least some of the time. Hmm.

I click off the DVR to see what’s on TV. After flipping through a few channels, I land on a baseball game. It’s in the fourth inning, so he’ll be home long before it’s over. And at least it isn’t football. I kind of know what’s going on.

But holy shit, boring. Forget it.

I turn off the TV completely and start playing games on my phone instead. Just as I hoped, they hold my attention, and before I know it, Ariel’s head snaps up, making her tags jingle. A second later, the garage door rumbles to life, and Ariel is off the couch, bounding toward the door.

It’s just as well she has no dignity and does the running, jumping and barking. At this point, it’s either her or me.

Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me? He’s been gone a few hours.

Having sex with another man.

Having sex with Michael.

Just like I’ve been doing for weeks.

Then Ian steps into the foyer. Ariel goes crazy—
I know the feeling, sweetheart
—so he crouches down to pet her and at least try not to get whipped in the face by that tail. Meanwhile, I sit up but don’t stand yet. Can’t look too eager, right?

Get a grip, idiot.

On the armchair, Rosie stretches and yawns, looking as indifferent as possible, then sits up and stares at Ian expectantly. When he’s done greeting the dog, he stands, and on his way to the couch, stops to pet her, and she bumps her head against his arm, purring loudly.

I shoot him my most pitiful expression. “So I’m third in line?”

“Hardly.” He rolls his eyes, sits beside me and puts an arm around my waist. “But I have to appease them so that when I say hello to you…” He draws me in for a kiss, and it’s one of those deep, languid kisses that turns my brain to mush. When our lips separate, he finishes: “…we don’t get interrupted.”

“G-good point.”

“So.” He winks. “Hello.”

We both laugh, and he kisses me again, briefly this time.

“So, um.” I clear my throat. “How was he? I mean, how was it? The night. With Michael.”

Ian chuckles and touches my cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”

“Flustered. I’m—”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “And to answer your question, everything went fine.”

“It went fine?” I fold my hands in my lap because I can’t remember how to look casual. “It wasn’t a surgical procedure, Ian.”

He laughs nervously. “What do you want me to say? I had a great time, and I’m pretty sure Michael did too. There isn’t much more to tell.”

“You enjoyed yourselves, though, right?”

Color blooms in his cheeks, and he can’t quite look me in the eye. “We had a good time.”

“Ian?” I tip up his chin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He kisses my hand, and this time he does meet my gaze. “I guess it’s just a little weird coming home from another guy’s bed. Even his.”

“Tell me about it.”

He’s about to say something, but Rosie picks that moment to stomp across me and flop down in Ian’s lap.

I chuckle. “Somebody missed you tonight.”

He scratches her tummy. “How badly did she terrorize you?”

“She only bit me once.”

“She bit you?” He eyes me. “What did you do?”

“Told her she couldn’t sit on the kitchen counter.”

“What?” He wags his finger at her. “What have I told you, kitty?”

She swats at his finger but keeps her claws in. Of course.

He laughs, then picks her up and deposits her on the other cushion. When he faces me again, the humor is gone. “So, tonight.” He swallows. “There
was
one point where Michael started to freak out.”

My blood turns cold and my spine straightens. “What happened?”

He loses focus for a second. Slowly, he shakes his head and meets my gaze again. “I’m not even really sure, to be honest. Everything seemed fine, and then…”

“And then it wasn’t?”

“Basically.”

Sighing, I nod. “Yeah, I’ve had that happen many times. But, he was okay afterward?”

Ian nods. “We stopped for a little while. He calmed down, and then we got started again.”

“What set him off? I mean, what were you guys doing when it happened?”

Ian swallows. “Missionary. Or, trying to, anyway.”

“You on top? Or him?”

“Me.” He chews his lip. “When we tried again, he wanted to do the same position again, so we just took it slower.”

“He does like that position,” I say quietly. “We’ve done it quite a few times.”

“Why would it set him off this time?”

“It’s hard to say. That fucking PTSD can just come out of nowhere.”

Ian’s lips twist. “Now I get why you called it a minefield.”

“Uh-huh. He’s come a long way, though. It’s amazing to see the difference in him. How he was so nervous and self-conscious early on, but now…”

Ian shivers.

So do I.

“It’s a damned shame he was ever like that,” Ian says. “I swear, if I ever see Steve again…”

“You and me both. And I’m going to be chewing my nails to stumps the first time Michael’s out with another guy.”

Ian nods. “Me too.”

“Well. We’ll all cross that bridge when we get there.”

“Yeah. For now…” Ian takes my hand. “Bed?”

“Bed.”

We go through our evening routine, cat and dog underfoot as always. I can’t quite settle down for the night, though. I’m relieved to have him home, even though I don’t know why—I knew he’d be home, and I knew where he was the whole time anyway. But I’m also restless. Maybe because I know there’s not a chance in hell that we’re having sex tonight. We always want what we can’t have, after all.

Once we’re in bed, Ian doesn’t kill the light. He tugs on my shoulder, so I roll onto my back. He’s on his side, arm draped across my chest. “You all right tonight?”

“Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a bit tense.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. “I guess it was just a bit weird, switching roles with you.” Meeting his eyes, I ask, “Has it been weird for you? When I’m over at Michael’s place?”

“It was a little in the beginning. Just an adjustment, I guess.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“We’ve been strictly monogamous for a long time. Shifting gears and accepting the idea of your husband sleeping with another guy… It’s gonna make you stop and think, you know?”

“Yeah. It does.” I touch his face. “I’m sorry if this has been stressful for you.”

“Don’t be.” He turns his head and kisses my palm. “The only one who needs to apologize for anything is Steve, and he’s beyond redemption anyway. The adjustments and stress for us have been worth it to help Michael.”

“I agree. As long as we’re okay.”

Ian smiles, sending a warm jolt of electricity through me. “We’re definitely okay.” His fingertips drift over my abs and continue downward.

I bite my lip. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am.” He kisses the side of my neck, and then starts downward again, his lips following the same path his fingers took. “But you’re not.”

“No, but—”

But I love those soft little kisses down my chest. Over my stomach. Across my hipbone. And Ian may be completely spent after everything he did with Michael tonight, but when he closes his lips around my cock, the fatigue doesn’t show at all.

And I just lie back, close my eyes and enjoy my husband’s skilled, enthusiastic mouth.