Gavin reached out and cupped the back of Oliver’s neck, pulling him close for a kiss. He’d meant to keep it quick, platonic even, but that was blown out of the water when Oliver gripped Gavin’s belt loops and pulled their crotches together, while opening his mouth to add some tongue action to the kiss.
They parted at the sound of Erin’s wolf whistle.
Glancing down the hallway, Gavin felt a bit like whistling himself. Erin spent the majority of her life in either scrubs or yoga pants and T-shirts, so it was rare when they got to see her all dressed up. She’d paired a black sheath with a deep red cashmere cardigan and heels. Her usual ponytail was gone, and the dark hair that betrayed the Italian part of her heritage hung long and loose over her shoulders. She’d put on eyeshadow—something she never wore—and thicker mascara, making her gorgeous brown eyes look even bigger, brighter, more beautiful.
“Jesus,” Gavin muttered. Oliver’s kiss had gotten him half hard, and now Erin had finished the job. He tried to adjust his suddenly tight jeans to stop them from cutting into his too-erect cock.
“Damn, sweet girl,” Oliver said. “How the hell are we supposed to sit next to you in a restaurant and keep our hands to ourselves with you looking like that?”
Erin flushed slightly at their responses. Gavin got a sense she sometimes struggled to accept their compliments as true. Crazy woman seemed to think she was fat, something that drove him nuts. She was curvy in all the right places.
“I don’t mind canceling,” Gavin said, drawing their attention to his erection.
Oliver punched his upper arm and shook his head. “Nope. We’re not letting you back out, so you might as well give your dick the old ‘down boy’ command right now.”
Gavin grimaced. “Easier said than done.”
Oliver laughed and pointed to his own crotch. “Tell me about it.”
Erin rolled her eyes as she passed between them, continuing down the hallway to the front door. “If we canceled everything on our social calendars based on your hard-ons, we’d never leave the apartment. Let’s get this over with so we can come back here and you two can go down on me. I look fucking hot, and I don’t want to waste it.”
Gavin reached for Erin’s coat, helping her put it on, while Oliver, the devil, lifted her skirt slightly and ran his hand over her slit.
“Panties are already damp,” Oliver mused aloud.
“Fine,” Erin hissed, his light touch obviously making an impact. “It’s not just your dicks that would be responsible for our lack of a social life.”
Gavin placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Which is why you’re perfect for us.”
They hadn’t come out to anyone yet about their changed relationship status. Not because they were keeping it a secret, as much as Erin hadn’t been lying about their inability to leave the house. Apart from going to work, the three of them were always in too much of a mad dash to hop back into bed together to do much else. Of course, it didn’t help that the pub, the place where they’d always hung out the most, was gone. Gavin figured the last few weeks were the longest he’d gone without seeing the countless Collins cousins, aunts and uncles, as well as Pop Pop. He was glad it was almost Christmas so he could reconnect with everyone—particularly Padraig, whom he’d only seen once since the fire.
“Ready?” Erin said, giving him a sweet, comforting smile. Gavin knew she was worried about him and he appreciated her concern.
He nodded. “Yeah.” He put on his own jacket, then patted the pocket to make sure the wrapped gift Erin had helped him pick out earlier in the day was there. When his mother had mentioned having a gift for him, he’d sort of felt like he needed to reciprocate. Erin had suggested earrings, then helped him decide on a pair of silver hoops.
The three of them piled into Oliver’s pickup truck and they drove to the restaurant. They’d picked a quiet place off the beaten track. It wasn’t super fancy, but in Gavin’s opinion, they served up some of the best crab cakes in the city.
His mother was already sitting at the table when they arrived, and he tried to swallow down his nervousness and anger when he saw the glass of wine in front of her. They hadn’t progressed beyond general niceties, and he hadn’t felt comfortable asking about her recovery. It occurred to him—belatedly—he should have had that conversation before they went out together in public.
“Gavin,” she said, smiling as they approached the table. Unlike him, she didn’t seem to be suffering from anxiety, and he wondered about that. She’d been genuinely nervous at their first meeting, but there was none of that in her now.
She stood up, her arms outstretched for a hug. Gavin didn’t feel comfortable embracing her, but refusing would be rude, so he accepted the hug, keeping it quick.
He gestured to his dates. “You remember Oliver and Erin.”
His mother nodded, the smile she’d given him fading to something that looked a lot more forced. “Of course I do.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Hawke,” Erin said, and Gavin could have kissed her for the polite lie. Despite their reservations about his mother and this reunion, neither of them would treat her disrespectfully because they cared about him. They were here to support him, not make things harder.
“Please, call me Cecilia.”
Erin nodded, and the four of them sat down before picking up their menus.
“The crab cakes are really good here,” Gavin said to his mother.
She shrugged slightly. “Shellfish doesn’t agree with me.”
Gavin didn’t know that. Not that they’d had money to buy fresh fish when he was younger. The majority of their meals came from cans, easy things he could heat up in a pan or microwave.
“The burgers are
