“What the hell are you—?”
Patrick shut him up by hauling his ass across the bench seat and kissing the holy bejeesus out of him.
What a day.
It had been hours since they"d arrested Mario Benedetto, but Brandon couldn"t settle. He"d been out walking, trying to shake the last of the adrenaline and calm his churning mind for the better part of an hour. The cool autumn breeze and tang of the salty harbor air helped a little.
Turning the corner, he started down another busy street. It was a Sunday night, but the bars and restaurants were open and he found some distraction in watching the people come and go. Still, though, his thoughts raced.
50
Destiny Calls
Nothing was going to stop him from replaying that kiss over and over again.
It had been incredible. Once he"d recovered from the shock of Patrick manhandling him, he"d given as good as he got. And he"d gotten a lot.
Like a couple of teenagers, they"d grappled with mouths and tongues and hands in the front seat of Patrick"s truck. Bullet-proof vests and gun holsters were probably the only thing that had kept their clothes on.
He"d thought Patrick was going to eat him alive, his lips and tongue demanding.
Patrick had been at the edge of his control and Brandon had loved it. But then the damn man had gone and changed it up on him. He"d eased back. Gentled. Instead of devouring him, Patrick had brushed his lips gently, again and again, before pulling his lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it tenderly.
Brandon"s eyes had rolled backward in his head with each tug until Patrick had released his swollen lip with a little pop and nibbled and licked his way across his mouth, taking his time, then slowly sinking in deep again.
Damn.
He shivered, trying to shake off the memory of how it had felt to be held like that.
He was no virgin, god knew, but he"d been almost paralyzed with shock and need, completely rolled under the wave of desire and Patrick"s kisses. Brandon, the one who"d fantasized about kissing Patrick for more years than he cared to remember, had simply closed his eyes and let Patrick take them wherever the hell he wanted.
It had been quite a trip.
When Patrick had finally released him, Brandon had slumped back against his door and stared at his friend. Patrick had looked as confused as Brandon had felt. And as aroused. His chest tight, he"d waited for Patrick to say something incredibly stupid to ruin what had just happened.
Patrick, though, hadn"t delivered. Instead he"d calmly put the truck into drive and pulled out of the alley. As Brandon had righted himself to put his seat belt on, Patrick had glanced at him once before refocusing on the road. “Why don"t you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I think we should talk.”
Elated and terrified, Brandon had agreed. The rest of the car ride had passed in remarkably companionable silence.
There had been hours of paperwork and backslapping and general celebration before Brandon finally escaped and made his way home. Only, one look at his empty bed and he"d known sleep wasn"t an option.
Now, walking along the streets, he tried to figure out what he wanted. As he rounded another corner, he stood looking at the Blue Door Tavern and laughed out loud.
The scene of the crime. He thought back to just over a week ago when he"d kissed Patrick for the first time. Or, rather, Patrick had kissed him. He remembered standing in 51
Samantha Wayland
line, trying not to look at Patrick in those tight jeans and the snug sweater Destiny had given him last Christmas.
He stared at the Blue Door hard, as if it might give him answers. But the truth was he already had them.
He wanted them both.
Goddamn Destiny. She"d put this stupid idea in his head and it just wouldn"t quit.
He hoped she"d meant it, because if the offer still stood, he was accepting.
Standing on the street corner, he tried to ground himself in spite of his racing pulse.
He wouldn"t be foolish and lose sight of the fact that Destiny was asking him to join her or, god willing, them for sex. Not love, not commitment, but sex. Only.
Even as he thought it, he knew he was screwed. These were his best friends. Hell, he was more than a little in love with them both already and well he knew it.
So, was he a first-rate idiot to even be considering this?
Yes!
The risks were huge. Professionally it would be an unmitigated fucking disaster for him and Patrick if the Boston PD ever found out. But he"d successfully kept his personal life private for years. He knew how to play the game and there was no way they were going to find out now.
No, the real risk was the likelihood of getting his heart broken. And goddamn it, he was going to go for it anyway.
For the first time in days, the uncertainty was gone. It was still big. And scary. But he knew what he was going to do.
Feeling a hundred pounds lighter, he turned away from the Blue Door. He cut over one block to the quiet side street and the most direct route home. He"d barely made it fifty feet when pair of strong hands grabbed his arm, wrenching it painfully behind him while another pair planted squarely between his shoulders blades and shoved him down. Hard.
Thrown to the pavement faster than he could get his free hand up, his forehead cracked onto the cement slab of the sidewalk. Stars winked bright in his eyes, pain exploding through his skull while he scrambled to push himself up. He was immediately thrust back down with a vicious yank on the arm, pinned once more behind him. This time his cheek took the impact.
The entire side of his face was on fire.
What the hell was going on? Thrashing violently, he managed to roll onto his side and look up at the
