Page 18 of Triple Tidings
He doesn’t appear to be as surprised as I was, and heat spreads through my groin as I watch his lips curve in that trademark smirk. “How fortuitous.”
I gnash my teeth. “Is there a fucking point to this conversation?” If he’s hoping to put me off Lacey by disclosing this, he’s going to be disappointed. I might be an ass, but I’m not a fucking hypocrite.
August takes a leisurely step toward me, raking his gaze over my body, and lifts them back to my eyes as he takes another.
“Have I mentioned I like the gray?” he asks, his tone honeyed and warm. We’re only a few feet apart now, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep my breathing steady. I’m determined not to let him see how deeply his presence affects me, but my body seems hell-bent on the opposite. “You look good, Davis. Middle age suits you.”
The laugh that bursts from my lungs surprises even me. “You’re one to talk. Did you need to write yourself a prescription to get Lacey into bed?”
August’s head tilts to the side, his smirk turning to a grin. “Why don’t you ask her?”
I scoff. “I know being an antagonistic little shit gets your dick hard, but are you ever going to tell me why the fuck you’re in here?”
“To propose a solution to the problem at hand,” August replies smoothly, unbothered by my hostility.
“The problem?”
The doctor takes a step closer, advancing on me with a quiet, thoughtful hum. There are barely six inches between us now, and I find myself glued to the spot, my breathing shallow. “We’re attracted to the same woman,” he murmurs, all traces of smugness and humor gone. “And we’re attracted to each other.”
Even if I wanted to deny it, I can’t. My jaw is locked tight, preventing me from saying a word as August reaches between us, palming my engorged, throbbing dick through my jeans.
August’s stare never wavers from mine as he continues, stroking me as he does. “If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Lacey is hardly…unaffectedby either of us.”
There’s no way he misses the way this makes my dick twitch, and with a hiss, I manage to pry my mouth open. “Get to the point.”
“The point,” August tells me, maddeningly calm, as I struggle not to let on how deeply his ministrations are affecting me, “is that I forgot how big your fucking cock is. I thought I was well-endowed, but you might put me to shame.”
He squeezes me, and I let out a low grunt, mindlessly pressing my hips forward. “August,” I snarl, my breathing growing labored. I have no idea how he manages to make this so fucking good without even touching my skin.
The doctor lets out a quiet, throaty laugh. “I’m merely suggesting a very simple way to untangle thiswebwe’ve found ourselves caught in.”
My mind is sluggish and slow, struggling to keep up with the conversation as he works my cock in long, teasing strokes. I’dforgotten this about August, how he likes to play with his food before he eats it.
“Yeah? How do we do that?” I manage, wishing I could muster up any genuine annoyance with him.
August’s lips curve. “We share.”
Eight
Lacey
Once my two guests have disappeared upstairs to their rooms, I do everything in my power to avoid thinking about them.
I call my grandmother and spend half an hour discussing my idea to add a new bench in the garden.
I clean under the radiators in the dining room.
I put in the produce order and send The Chestnut’s special events chef a draft of the Valentine’s Day prix fix menu.
I find not one but two possible replacement vendors for the one who keeps delivering our linens late.
I give myself several stern talking-tos about what is and isn’t appropriate for me to be doing with guests.
And all the while, I do my best to pretend I’m alone in the quiet, snow-covered Chestnut, pointedly ignoring any distant sounds of movement, or the occasional, indistinct rumble of male voices speaking in the rooms above me.
Everything is super normal. I definitely don’t think about whateither of themlooks like naked or what they thought of howIlook naked, or how much fun it would be forall of usto be naked together.
Time seems to be moving at half the speed it usually does. When the display finally declares it’s eight o’clock—meaning I’m officially off duty—I’m so worn out from being on edge all day, that all I have the energy for is to slump back in my office chair.
