“Yeah, none of us do,” Savannah said. She looked at her watch. “If you’re done in here, and you promise not to over-do it today, I’m going to head out. I need to get home, I think.”
Jean-Michel promised and waved goodbye.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. It bothered him through his afternoon swim—which was trainer approved—another shower, and all the way home. It was just like he’d said. He didn’t have a lot of choice. He couldn’t force Rhian to talk, and he couldn’t offer to help if he didn’t know what was going on. Instead, he’d been resorting to trying to cheer Rhian up. The problem was that he sometimes thought he’d made it worse.
He wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen the look on Rhian’s face when he’d pointed out the beautiful woman at the bar. The rigid determination in Rhian’s expression when he’d gone to speak with her. He’d also noticed the way Rhian’s smile had faded when he’d been asked about a date to the party next week.
Jean-Michel thought that maybe instead of pushing Rhian, the best thing to do would be to apologize to him.
He called Rhian’s cell but got no answer.
The itch under Jean-Michel’s skin came back, only now it was bigger.
He called again, and when Rhian didn’t answer, Jean-Michel grabbed his keys and left his apartment. Rhian didn’t live too far, maybe a twenty-minute drive, and he’d said he had a bunch of stuff to do at home that night, so he should be around.
Jean-Michel stopped at the liquor store on the way and grabbed a six-pack of beer he knew Rhian liked. He’d never been to Rhian’s place before, so he thought a housewarming gift of some kind was in order. Not that beer was really that, but it would cover him until he could buy Rhian a fucking plant or something.
So far as he knew, no one had ever been to Rhian’s place, and, to be honest, he had never questioned it, since Rhian lived a little further outside the city, and in an in-law apartment, to boot. He also liked his privacy, which Jean-Michel was hoping he could smooth over with some Sam Adams, a winning smile, and an apology.
The only reason Jean-Michel knew how to find the place was because Savannah had hosted a team barbeque during training camp to “make up for being so mean” to them all. Rhian had pointed out his place, and the stairs leading up to it, when asked, but he hadn’t offered to give out any tours, and everyone was already entertained enough with catching up with one another.
Jean-Michel pulled up in front of the house and parked, not wanting to pull into the driveway and risk screwing up anyone else’s ability to leave. He took a moment to admire the twinkling lights twisted into heavy pine garlands wrapped around the porch railings, and the massive wreath on the front door. There was a candle in every window, making the house look warm and welcoming. There were no cars he could see in the driveway, but all three garage doors—also decorated with wreaths—were closed, so presumably at least some of them were in there and people were home. Rhian looked like he was, given that light shone from every window of his place.
Jean-Michel went around to the back of the garage and jogged up the stairs, which were far more rickety than the fresh coat of paint would lead someone to believe. When he got to the landing, he saw the door was more of the same, without the fresh paint. He frowned at the flecks of blue under his feet and at the old door knob.
Seriously, why was Rhian living here?
Jean-Michel knocked gently, but heard no movement from inside the apartment. He knocked again, more loudly this time.
Still nothing.
Frowning, he leaned in to listen for some sign that Rhian was home, but it was hard to tell if maybe the door was sturdier than it looked, or if Rhian was just being super quiet. He momentarily worried he was about to wake Rhian up from a nap, but it was late for that, so he’d be doing Rhian a favor.
He knocked again, loudly, then put his hand on the knob. He was surprised when it turned easily under his palm. The countless times he’d been accused of being irredeemably nosy ran through his head as he pushed the door open.
He hadn’t been sure what to expect of Rhian’s super weird apartment, but he was stunned by the sight that met him. The space was one big room, with a cheap kitchenette against one wall, and a door in a corner that he could only assume was to the bathroom.
Other than that, the space was completely empty.
Chapter Six
Rhian paused in the middle of washing the dinner dishes and looked out the window over the sink. He thought he’d heard something in the back yard, but he couldn’t see anything. He was thinking about going out to the back porch to check anyway, but just then a pair of arms curled around his waist from behind.
Garrick hooked his chin over Rhian’s shoulder. “You almost done here?”
Rhian shook out the last pot and balanced it on top of the rest of the dishes drying in the rack. “Yeah, that should be it.”
Garrick’s big, warm hands spread out across Rhian’s belly and pulled him closer. The curl of Rhian’s spine was instinct, tucking his butt up against Garrick’s hips as they snugged closer.
“Good,” Garrick murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin along the side of Rhian’s neck. Rhian felt the goosebumps spring to life over that patch of skin and across his shoulders. He tilted his head, stretching his neck for Garrick to reach all of it.
“Starting dessert already?” Savannah asked, amused, from somewhere behind them.
Rhian tucked himself closer to Garrick, so that they were plastered together from shoulders to knees, Garrick’s warmth seeping into him, soothing him in a way that nothing else could—except Savannah, of course.
She came to lean against the counter facing him, her fingers tracing gently over his cheek. When Rhian pushed back a little further, Savannah slipped in front of him, so that he was pinned between them. His grip on the edge of the sink was the only thing keeping him and Garrick from squishing her into the countertop.
“Remember the time,” Garrick said, his every word another brush of his lips against Rhian’s skin, “we had sex with a stick of butter?”
Savannah had been just about to press her lips to Rhian’s, but now she leaned back and laughed.
“Oh my god, that sounds hilarious—and maybe wrong—when you say it like that!” she said. “And I do remember. I’d have to be dead to forget.”
Rhian shook his head. “Wait, you and Garrick had sex with butter, too?”
Savannah put up her hands. “Oh no. That’s all you, buddy. But it was back when we still had the deal that Garrick had to tell me everything, remember?”
Rhian could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He did remember. Vividly.
“He told me all about how you two couldn’t even wait for dinner to be finished. That you were so desperate for each other, you used butter to slick up your hands.”
Rhian’s cock, which had already been enjoying Garrick’s attention on his neck, now ached in his jeans. He felt a little dizzy from the rapid shift of blood flow. “Yeah,” he said, sounding embarrassingly wistful, “that was fun.”
Ever since then, just the smell of cookies baking could get him a little excited.
Savannah reached across the counter and dragged the big butter dish closer. “You want to try it again?”
Garrick went still, and Rhian took a moment to stare at the butter and think. The answer, as fun as that had been, was still, “No.”
“Why not?” Savannah asked curiously, without a whiff of judgement or disappointment.
It had taken a long time, maybe more than a year, for Rhian to get comfortable just saying what he wanted. They’d continuously encouraged him to, though, and now he could do it easily. Without shame or worry or even a moment’s thought.
“We need something better than butter. I want you to fuck me,” he blurted.
Savannah’s smile was slow and devastating. “Me, specifically?”
Rhian leaned in and kissed her, long and deep, his mind running through the various toys she had in her arsenal that wou
ld ruin him in all the best ways. Garrick’s hands began to wander, and Rhian was going to have to wrap up any part of this conversation where he needed to be coherent enough to answer questions soon.
“No,” he said when he could finally stand to separate his mouth from Savannah’s. “Or yes. Whatever you two want.”
Garrick’s hand on his hip went still, his fingers digging in, anchoring Rhian.
There were nights that Rhian liked to be in charge. Nights when he happily told one or both of them what he wanted them to do and how he wanted them to do it. And then there were nights like this one, where he knew what he wanted, but once he’d put it out there, he was far more content to let his two beautiful and terribly clever lovers figure out the details.
His two terribly clever lovers were also very fond of these nights.
Garrick leaned over Rhian’s shoulder and Savannah rose to meet him, their lips catching and lingering. Rhian watched them kiss and counted the beats of his heart each time it knocked against his ribs.
God, he loved them. That he’d made Garrick question that, even for a second, made him heartsore and angry with himself. How had he lost sight of his priorities? Of them? Everything he’d ever wanted was right here, in his arms. Everything he’d never dared to hope for, every dream he’d spent his life convincing himself he didn’t deserve, was within his grasp, because of them.
He made a noise, something he would deny was a whimper, and Savannah immediately moved to kiss him, while Garrick began sucking on the cord of muscle behind his ear. Rhian’s hips moved without conscious thought, rubbing against Savannah’s belly and Garrick’s thighs.
Those wandering hands of Garrick’s landed on Rhian’s belt and made quick work of it. It fell to the floor by their feet with a thud. Rhian let go of the counter with one hand just long enough to drop the blinds on the window above the sink. When he looked at the other windows over the breakfast nook table, he realized Savannah must have closed those curtains while he’d been distracted.
“Did you two have this planned?” Rhian gasped as he pressed his lips along Savannah’s jaw. Garrick’s teeth set themselves to the vertebrae in Rhian’s neck, making him shudder.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Savannah said, completely innocent. Then she reached over and slid open the kitchen drawer that normally held things like cooking twine and the ice cream scoop. But not tonight.
Rhian let out a quiet huff of somewhat appalled laughter.
Clever, clever lovers. They had planned this, and he knew why. He wondered if they should talk about that first, but then Garrick’s hands coasted over the front of Rhian’s jeans and he decided it was going to have to wait. He knew they were trying to help him. To give him whatever he needed. They both understood that sometimes what Rhian needed, what they all needed in order to feel whole, to feel better, no matter what was bothering them, was to be close.
Emotionally, that was every day. All the time.
Physically, particularly in the midst of the grueling schedule and physical demands of the hockey season, it was a little trickier to manage.
“I want Garrick to be the one to fuck you,” Savannah said, because Rhian wasn’t the only one who knew how to ask for what they wanted. “But are you sure? There’s a game tomorrow.”
It was a fair question. A smart one, even, since as a rule, Rhian didn’t do this the night before a game because he’d be sore. Tonight, that just didn’t matter. He wanted it. Needed it. Hell, he even looked forward to the soreness, to the constant reminder of all he had and how fucking fortunate he was. He wanted to sit on the bench in New York tomorrow night and wince every time he shifted, because it would remind him he was the luckiest bastard on earth.
He twisted enough to capture Garrick’s mouth for a kiss. When they drew apart, he pressed their foreheads together and curled an arm around Savannah’s waist, pulling the three of them as close together as they could get with their clothes still on.
“I want to feel it for days,” he admitted.
Savannah’s heart tripped in its gallop in her chest.
This was the Rhian they knew. The one they’d been falling more and more in love with for years. She hadn’t realized until just now how long it had been since Rhian had asked for what he wanted. Made himself vulnerable with the kind of confidence in his voice that meant he didn’t feel vulnerable at all because he trusted them that much.
It had been, in fact, three months.
She was a little sad when she considered the timing, but then he was sliding his hand up her back, holding her closer, and she let that sadness go in the face of a wave of hope that this was the beginning of the end of whatever had been troubled him. They were settling into the season, now. Headed for the holidays and a house full of family who loved Rhian, who would be there to help him ease his worries and answer his questions and remind him how amazing a big family could be.
Savannah had grown up with that, and Rhian had grown to love it as much or more than she did. The poor guy was so enamored with her family, he actually thought her nosy brothers were charming. He’d get over that, eventually.
In the meantime, she put away thoughts of family and focused instead on the two men before her. The first thing that needed attention was all the clothing—it had to go. She nudged at them until they were facing each other, lost in what looked to be long, heady kisses, while she went to work on their buttons and zippers. When she’d opened everything she could, she stepped back.
“Strip.”
They did, dropping shirts and jeans on the floor around them, then tugging her shirt and yoga pants off, too. When they were all naked, Garrick kicked the entire pile into the corner to be retrieved later.
Then he turned to Rhian and cocked one eyebrow. It was Rhian’s chance to change his mind, but instead he just smiled and reached into the open drawer for the bottle of lube.
When his fingers bumped into the other contents of the drawer, he turned to give it a proper look.
“Jesus Christ, did you bring the entire contents of our bedside table downstairs?”
“Not even close,” Garrick said with a smirk, tugging the bottle from Rhian’s hand. “And there are some new things in there, too. Some early Christmas presents for you.”
Rhian leaned in to get a better look and Savannah took the opportunity to run her hand down his side and over his gorgeous butt. She dug her fingers in, enjoying the give of firm muscle and soft skin.
Hockey butt was a real and wondrous thing. Seriously.
Rhian clung to the counter and the drawer, letting her do as she pleased. Based on the way his head hung from his shoulders and his toes curled against the hardwood floor, he was pretty happy with it, too.
He jumped when Garrick drew a shiny finger down the valley of his ass and tucked it against his hole.
Rhian let out a long sigh. Savannah almost giggled at the sound as she helpfully pulled his cheeks apart, watching Garrick circle the pad of his finger over tightly clenched muscles, pressing to ease them until his finger slipped into Rhian.
Rhian muttered a short, sharp, happy noise.
Savannah silently checked with Garrick, who nodded before tilting his head toward the drawer. She nodded back.
Rhian had been right. They did have a plan. Though the previous iteration had included convincing Rhian to break his rule about sex before a game, as he only did a few times a season. Clearly, he was way ahead of them there. They still had a few tricks up their sleeves, though.
Savannah had been thinking about it since the night in the hotel in Detroit with Rhian. He’d held her against his chest the entire night, clinging to her long past the hour when they might usually roll apart to spread out, or at least change position. He hadn’t seemed interested in, or maybe capable of, letting her go.
Rhian often drew reassurance from physical contact in a way that Garrick and she rarely needed, and they wanted to make sure Rhian got that. Got everything he needed. She’d thought about it a lot since
Detroit, and how little time they’d had since the start of the season to really spend paying intimate attention to each other. They still had sex, of course—but they hadn’t really taken their time. It hadn’t been on purpose, and hadn’t had anything to do with the pregnancy. It had just been…timing.
Bad timing that needed to be corrected. And the best way to do that was to make up for lost time and absolutely take Rhian apart. She was sure it would make all three of them feel better.
They’d start in the kitchen, and maybe end up in the bedroom. Or maybe not. She’d learned long ago these plans were best left as general ideas so the rest could unfold as it would.
She slid her hands around Rhian’s ribs and ducked under the arm braced against the drawer so that she could press herself to his chest and pull him down for a long kiss. He let go of the drawer to hold onto her instead and she held him steady, shifting with him as his hips jerked and pushed back against whatever Garrick was doing.
When she pulled back from the kiss, Rhian kept his eyes closed, just breathing and running his hand up and down her back. Savannah took advantage of the opportunity to reach behind her and fish the smallest of the butt plugs from the drawer.
It was maybe an inch and a half at the widest point, less at the narrower neck that would hold it inside him for a while until Garrick was ready to take the next step. Neither of them was in any hurry. She held it out and Garrick immediately plucked it from her fingers. Then she just watched Rhian’s face, smiling at the blissed-out expression and how it shifted when Garrick did something Rhian particularly liked or wasn’t expecting. Or both.
She knew the moment Garrick pulled out his finger, or fingers, by Rhian’s frown. Then his eyes popped open and he looked right at her.
“That would be the plug,” she guessed with a grin.
Rhian nodded, his mouth falling open, his gaze losing focus until a great shudder ran through him and he stood up.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice rough.
A Merry Little [Hat Trick] Christmas Page 6