Page 218 of Better When Shared
The raw honesty in his voice knocked the air from my lungs. This wasn’t just a whim or a vacation extension. They had restructured their entire lives—their home, their careers, their future—to build something here. With me.
Hamish was right. This was a grand gesture. A wonderful, thoughtful, wildly romantic gesture.
“You could have horses here,” I said, then snapped my mouth shut, eyes widening.
Hamish laughed. “Aren’t you afraid of horses?”
“We could… work on that. Baby steps. Besides, there are like 25 acres. The horses could be really far from me.”
I pulled them both closer, overwhelmed by what they were offering. My whole life, I’d kept relationships casual, temporary. I’d run from Hawaii to escape commitment to my family, built my life around freedom and transient connections. But standing in my kitchen with Hamish and Imogen in my arms, I couldn’t remember why I’d been so afraid.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “To deserve you both.”
Hamish’s lips found mine again, gentle but insistent. “You were yourself. Unapologetically, completely yourself.”
Imogen pressed against my back, her arms encircling my waist, her lips brushing the nape of my neck. “You showed us another way to live. Showed us what a true home feels like.”
I laughed. “And here I thought I was just trying to get into your pants.”
“Mission thoroughly accomplished,” Hamish murmured against my neck.
“Isn’t it going to be a hassle? Moving across the world, changing your whole lives, just for a guy you just met?”
“And a job I love,” Imogen reminded me.
“And a place we’re really enjoying,” Hamish said. “We’ll always have Dorset if we want to go back, but it’s worth trying this. Worth dealing with the paperwork, finding someone to lease the property, figuring out the immigration stuff.”
“That… sounds like a lot,” I said, shaking my head.
“Oh, we fully intend to have you help us fill out paperwork,” Imogen said, grinning. “Small penance.”
I laughed, swallowing back a lump of worry in my throat. “Fuck, what if it doesn’t work out?”
“Nothing’s certain, but I learned early on that nothing in life ever is,” Hamish said. “For so long after my parents passed, I tried to have a quiet, perfect life. The kind of life with no surprises, no danger. But it also meant a life with no passion. I hated my job, my wife was growing to resent me. So this is me, chasing passion.”
“When he decides he’s into something, he’s all-in. Possibly to a pathological level,” Imogen said in a stage whisper. “You may have noticed it with surfing. Or Yorkshire Gold tea.”
I burst out laughing, then groaned as I felt his hands slip beneath my t-shirt, his palms hot against my skin. Behind me, Imogen’s fingers worked at my belt buckle, her body pressed flush against my back. The dual sensation of them touching me, wanting me, choosing me, broke something open inside my chest.
“I’ve fallen for you,” I confessed, the words escaping before I could reconsider. “Both of you. Hard. Didn’t think I was capable of it, but here we are.”
Imogen’s arms tightened around me. “We love you too, Makai. That’s why we’re staying.”
“What she said,” Hamish added, his voice thick with emotion. “Though I believe there are more... physical ways we could demonstrate the depth of our feelings.”
His hand slid lower, cupping me through my jeans, and whatever coherent thoughts I’d been forming dissolved into raw need. I grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward the bedroom with Imogen following close behind. For once in my life, I wasn’t running toward freedom.
I was running toward home. Toward them.
We tumbled onto my bed in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing, hands grasping, mouths seeking skin. I couldn’t remember who pushed who first—maybe Imogen shoved me backward, or Hamish guided me down—but suddenly I was on my back with Imogen straddling my thighs, her nimble fingers working the buttons of my shirt.
Hamish knelt beside us, stripping off his own clothes. The need to touch them, to feel them against me after days of absence, overwhelmed every other thought. The days apart had been unbearable. The prospect of never having to say goodbye again made me dizzy with want.
“Too many clothes,” Imogen complained, yanking my shirt open with enough force to send buttons flying. I laughed at her eagerness, lifting my hips so she could tug my jeans down my legs.
“Missed me that much, huh?” I teased, but my voice caught as her hand wrapped around my cock, already hard and aching for her touch.
“You have no idea.” Her eyes went dark with desire as she stroked me firmly. “I kept thinking about this while we were gone. I couldn’t focus during half our meetings.”
