Page 35 of Piece Us Together
His lips twitch. “Oh, sad eyes, you have no idea what you could be.”
I step away. The bed is against the backs of my legs. I’m trapped for just a moment before he respects the obvious desire to escape and takes a few steps back himself. It should be easier to breathe, but it just gets harder.
“I’m not a sub,” I tell him again.
He puts his hands up in surrender. “I know. That doesn’t stop my interest in you. An interest I’ve had since the first night we met, guns and all.”
“But youneeda sub.”
“I do. And Nolan needs a dom. And you and Nolan need each other. What we did last night worked for everyone.” He smiles, but it’s fragile. There’s so much fucking hope weighing it down. Hope he’s not even trying to hide. It hurts to fucking look at. “But while I don’tneedit, I would love to have both of you. Not like last night. Something more. Not both of you as my subs, either. Just both of you asmine, in whatever form that turns out to be.”
No.
No, I don’t want that.
I don’t want him.
What kind of man would that make me?
What kind of boyfriend?
Not that it even matters, because I don’t want him, or need him, or anything to do with him. He’s a dom for Nolan. He’s a good dirty talker and nice to look at. He’s the guy who fills a need in my boyfriend so I can love him like he deserves—nothing more.
“Just think about it.” He’s still trying to smile. It’s not so much hopeful as it’s sad now. “Just know that it’ll work out either way. Like I said, last night was great, and it seemed to give everyone what they needed. I’m just saying that there could be more, if everyone wanted that. I don’t even know what it’d look like, but I’m open to it. Even if it’s just physical—I’d just about die to get my hands on you, if you’d allow it.”
My voice isn’t working. I can only nod once, sharp.
“I just thought you should know, before you make the decision.”
I nod again.
Then I walk out of the room on my wobbly legs before I can do something insanely stupid like panic or tear him a new one or call this whole thing off.
Before I can do something insanely stupid like sayyes.
Chapter Nine
Nolan
Maison is quiet after our night at Hunter’s. At first, I chalked it up to him just needing to process everything. It was a lot to take in, from the incredible night we had where I know for a fact Maison had a mind-blowing orgasm—and possibly a slight taste of subspace, though I’ll never bring that up to him—to the following morning where we made some decisions over breakfast, all of which Maison seemed to be on board with at the time.
We first decided that we’d see each other every Saturday for the next month, not including this next one because he has a prior engagement. After that, we will discuss how things are going and possibly make a more permanent arrangement. Maison had added that we’ll keep sleeping over, even though Hunter said we didn’t have to after the first night. I liked the idea, and Hunter had seemed surprised but pleased. We all exchanged numbers, too. Hunter said he wants to be able to check in with us on the days after scenes and wants us to be able to reach him whenever we need.
Maison had asked if we were allowed to have sex during the week. Hunter had liked that question, I could tell by the way his eyes flashed and his nostrils flared with a sharp inhale. He hadn’t taken advantage, though. He gave Maison complete control of me during the week. Or, more accurately, gave me complete control of myself, since Maison has no desire to be in charge whether Hunter is there or not. He made it clear to me that my orgasms were my own during the week, too. I had pretended that didn’t make me a tiny bit sad.
Overall, the decisions we made were relatively small and nothing surprising, but I still understood when Maison seemed to need time and space to digest everything. Honestly, I thought he was focused more on processing the scene itself than the decisions we made after. I think it caught Maison by surprise how much he enjoyed it.
So, I was okay with him distancing himself a little. I was okay with him going quiet.
I was okay the first night when he mumbled something about needing to make some calls and didn’t even bother to brush a kiss across my forehead before disappearing. I was okay the second night when he skipped dinner and locked himself away with a bottle of whiskey before coming to bed tipsy and handsy, whispering, “I love you,” and, “You’re mine,” and, “Don’t need anything but you,” as he kissed me and touched me and brought me to a soft orgasm that he happily licked up before passing out beside me with worry etched on his face.
Day three, I’m over it.
“Eat.” I all but slam the plate of food on his desk, crossing my arms over my chest to let him know I’m serious. He frowns at the plate like he’s never seen an omelet before. “Now. Before I grab that laptop and throw it out the window.”
His lips twitch as he raises an eyebrow at me. “Feeling bossy this morning?”
“Yes.” I nudge the plate. “When you decide to be an idiot who doesn’t take care of himself, I get bossy. We’ve learned this already. I don’t know why you insisted on another lesson.”