Page 85 of Her Possessive Daddies

"Yeah, well. Had to happen sometime, right?" Another pause. "We good?"

"Yeah." I smile, surprising myself by meaning it. "We're good."

I end the call and lean against the balcony railing, letting out a long breath. Three years of baggage, finally lifted. Who knew Chandler had it in him to actually grow up?

Back inside, Tessa's wrapped in her fluffy robe, applying moisturizer to her face.

"So... I need you to go out for a few hours."

Her hand freezes mid-cream application. A wicked grin spreads across her face. "Oh? And why's that?"

"I might have some... company coming over."

"Company? As in plural? As in three very specific pieces of company?" She wiggles her eyebrows.

"Maybe." I start to sweat.

"Say no more." She grabs her phone and keys. "I'll go hunt down my own trio of eligible bachelors. Though I doubt they'll measure up to your silver collection."

"Tessa!"

"What? I'm just saying - you've cornered the market on hot older men. Leave some for the rest of us mere mortals." She slips on her shoes. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That list is remarkably short."

"Exactly." She winks, heading for the door. "Text if you need me to stay gone longer. And remember - hydration is key!"

I pull up Corey's contact. The last message between us sits there from days ago, before everything exploded at dinner. My thumb hovers over the keyboard as I curl up in the corner of our worn couch.

The apartment feels different now that Tessa's gone - quieter, more intimate. Perfect for what I'm about to do. A shiver runs through me at the thought of texting not just Corey, but eventually Seth and Donovan too.

God, what am I doing? Three men. Three incredibly sexy, successful, commanding men who all want me. Who are willing to share me. The thought makes my insides liquify.

I shiver, remembering how each of them made me feel. Corey's quiet authority, Seth's playful dominance, Donovan's raw intensity. Together? Lord almighty…

The phone screen dims from inactivity and I quickly tap it back to life. No more overthinking. Tessa's right - I deserve this. I deserve them.

Slowing my breath, I start typing a message to Corey. My heart beats fast and furious with each letter, but I need to keep going. To be brave. To take what I want for once.

This could blow up in my face. Could ruin everything. Could be the best decision I've ever made.

There’s only one way to find out.

43

SETH

I’m sprawled on the couch, a bottle of bourbon half-empty on the coffee table, the amber liquid catching the dim light from the lamp. The ice in my glass has long since melted, diluting the drink, but I don’t care. My head’s a mess, and the bourbon’s doing its best to untangle it. Or maybe it’s just making it worse. Who knows?

The conversation with Abbie earlier plays on a loop in my mind. Her hesitation, the way she looked at each of us—Corey, Donovan, me—like she was trying to determine which one of us she wanted. Or if she wanted all of us. Hell, I’d share her if it meant I could keep her in my life. I’m not the kind of guy who gets tied up in knots over a woman, but Abbie? She’s different.

My phone is vibrating on the table, and I glance over at it. Corey’s name flashes on the screen. I let it go to voicemail. I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now. Not when I’m still trying to figure out how the hell I ended up here, nursing a drink and thinking about a woman who’s got me twisted in ways I didn’t think were possible.

The doorbell rings, and I groan, dragging myself off the couch. I’m not expecting anyone, and the last thing I want is some random interruption. I swing the door open, and there’s Donovan, looking as put-together as ever, despite the late hour.

"You look like shit," he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, his boots leaving faint marks on my pristine hardwood floor. I make a mental note to have my cleaning service deal with that tomorrow.

"Thanks. You're a real charmer." I close the door with more force than necessary and follow him into the living room, where the dim lighting probably does make me look worse than I feel.

---