Page 85 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Makai

I chickened out on the grand romantic gesture, frozen in indecision for the entire ferry ride and drive to Seattle, trying to come up with a plan. Maybe the ride had been enough of a gesture. After all, Hamish and Imogen had been thrilled to see me, and chattered happily the whole way here.

Or maybe I should have let Skylar coach me, though there was a high chance that would have left me outside their house with a boom box, like the guy in her favorite retro movie.

By the time we got back to Strawberry Creek Ranch, my thoughts were a mess. Imogen and Hamish were oddly upbeat, though. Maybe a little too upbeat, even. I eyed them suspiciously as I let them into my house, belatedly realizing that I should have offered to drive them to the cottage at the Cannery.

“You’re too good to us.”

Imogen kicked off her shoes and padded across the wooden floor in her stockinged feet, looking so at home it made my chest ache.

“You drove all the way to Seattle to surprise us, and now you’re feeding us?”

“It’s just takeout,”

I said, holding up the bags.

Hamish set their suitcases by the door and joined her on the couch.

“The look on Imogen’s face when she spotted you at baggage claim was priceless.”

“I nearly tackled you in front of everyone,”

Imogen added, her smile wider than usual.

“Best welcome home ever.”

Home. The word caught in my brain. This wasn’t their home. They had a fucking estate in England. The kind with a name and stables and probably staff who called Hamish “sir.”

Yet here they were, settling into my worn leather couch like they belonged there, Hamish’s fingers absently stroking Imogen’s shoulder, Imogen’s legs tucked beneath her, casual and comfortable in a way that made me yearn for things I’d convinced myself I didn’t want.

I busied myself in the kitchen, pulling out plates and forks.

Imogen bounced up from the couch.

“Let me help. We’d better thank you properly for that airport rescue mission.”

She crossed to the kitchen and slid her arms around my waist from behind, pressing her body against my back. The familiar scent of her shampoo filled my nose, and I closed my eyes briefly, just feeling her against me.

“You don’t have to thank me,”

I said, turning in her arms to face her.

“I was just impatient. I couldn’t wait another three hours to see you both.”

Imogen was vibrating with excitement, like she was holding in a secret that was fighting to escape. It wasn’t about seeing me. I’d been with them for hours now, and whatever this was hadn’t faded. It was something else, something big.

“What’s going on with you?”

I asked, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear.

“You’ve been buzzing like you mainlined espresso since I picked you up.”

She bit her lip, darting a glance at Hamish, who nodded encouragingly from the couch. Whatever this was, they’d clearly discussed it.

“I’ve been offered an extension of my job,”

she blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“At the Cannery Hotel. As their Director of Events, with oversight of all the Bindery Group properties in the Northwest.”

I blinked, not immediately processing what this meant.

“That’s...great? Congratulations. So you’d stay until...”

“No, Makai.”

She grabbed my hands, squeezing tightly.

“Not just for the summer. Permanently. We’re staying on San Juan Island. Permanently.”

The bread knife I’d been holding clattered to the counter.

“You’re what?”

“We’re staying,”

she repeated, searching my face anxiously.

“We’ve decided to make the island our home base. We understand if you want things to stay casual between us.”

The irony, that I’d spent the last week freaking out about them being gone and she still thought I wanted things casual, made me laugh, the sound bursting out of me with such force that Imogen stepped back, startled.

“Are you serious?”

I asked.

“You’re staying? Both of you?”

“You’re not happy we’re staying?”

She looked hurt, her arms crossing defensively over her chest, and I realized she thought I was laughing at her.

“No, fuck, that’s not—”

I reached for her, pulling her against me.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I meant at all. I’m thrilled. I only laughed because you seemed to think I wouldn’t be, which was absurd.”

“Oh,”

she whispered, tilting her chin up to meet my eyes, her hazel eyes wide. I pressed my lips to her forehead, my heart hammering so hard I was sure she could feel it. A slow smile spread across her face.

“So you’re excited?”

“Of course I’m excited. I’m not ready for this to end. Not even close. The way you rushed back to England had me terrified that you were making plans to go home..”

Her body relaxed against mine, tension draining away. “Really?”

I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“Imogen, I drove to fucking Seattle and back just to get six extra hours with you guys. I was terrified that we only had another few weeks together, and wanted to spend every moment possible in your company.”

“Oh.”

The smile that spread across her face was like sunrise breaking over the mountains—gradual, then suddenly brilliant. She threw her arms around my neck, pressing her body flush against mine.

“Oh love. We rushed back to England to be sure we could make it work before we told you the news.”

“You might have told me before you left, fuck,”

I said, shaking my head.

“We didn’t want to risk hurting you,”

Hamish said.

“We had to have all our ducks in a row before we poured our hearts out to you. We had to be responsible about our grand gesture.”

“Well, I’ve been miserable since you left, checking my phone every five minutes, driving Skylar insane with my moping. I don’t know where this is going between us, but I want to find out.”

“I was so afraid you’d think we were crowding you,”

she whispered.

“That we were pushing for something you didn’t want.”

“I want this,”

I said, my voice rougher than I intended.

“I want you. Both of you. I was just too fucking afraid to ask for that. Too afraid to do the grand romantic gesture, to commit to you, to admit that I want everything from you.”

I kissed her then, fierce and deep, pouring all the fear and longing of the past three days into it. Her lips parted beneath mine, tongue meeting mine with equal hunger. I tasted mint and the faintest hint of the coffee she’d had on the ferry, but mostly I tasted Imogen—the woman who, against all odds, was choosing to stay in my world rather than expecting me to fit into hers.

Hamish cleared his throat behind us, and I broke the kiss with Imogen, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist as we both turned to face him. He stood by the couch, hands in his pockets, a slight flush on his cheeks that I’d come to recognize as a mix of arousal and nervousness.

“Since we’re sharing news,”

he said.

“I should mention that I’m now officially unemployed. I gave my notice the first time I went to England.”

I stared at him, trying to process this second bombshell.

“You quit your job? Why?”

Hamish ran a hand through his hair.

“Because I hated every bloody minute of it. It took coming here to realize it.”

He crossed to us, stopping just within arm’s reach.

“Back home, I spent my days managing old money for old men who think adventure means trying a different brand of scotch. Uptight twats, the lot of them, though I didn’t see it until...”

He paused, his eyes finding mine.

“Until?” I asked.

“Until I came here and met you. I saw how you built a life around what you love instead of what others expect. I saw how Imogen changed as she channeled her passion into something really meaningful and rewarding. It became painfully clear that I didn’t have that kind of passion. I never did, really.”

Something expanded in my chest, warm and overwhelming. I’d seen the changes in Hamish over these weeks—watched him transform from a tightly-wound banker afraid to get his designer shoes wet into a man who’d eagerly teach kids to mountain bike and jump into rough surf without hesitation. But I’d never imagined he’d completely upend his life because of it. Because of me.

I laughed, the sound rough with emotion, and reached out to pull him into our embrace. He was stiff for a moment, properly British through and through, then he sighed and snugged close. His body fit perfectly against us, his arms wrapping around both Imogen and me. I kissed him hard, tasting the mint of his toothpaste and feeling the slight rasp of stubble on his cheek.

“If you’re looking for work, I’m sure I can find something for you to do,”

I said against his lips.

“You were pretty great with those kids on the mountain bike tour. Skylar’s been saying we need another instructor.”

Hamish blushed, the pink spreading from his cheeks down his neck.

“Maybe. I will need a job.”

He glanced at Imogen, who nodded encouragingly.

“Though Imogen had the brilliant idea to lease the Walker Estate to her bosses, to turn it into a new hotel. We were in England showing the property to the Bindery Bancroft execs, including Imogen’s best friend Gemma.”

I pulled back, trying to wrap my head around what they were saying.

“So you’re leasing your entire estate? Won’t that be strange? Having people staying in your home? And won’t you miss Dorset?”

Hamish’s hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a tenderness that made my throat tight.

“It’s not a done deal yet, but even if we lease the main house, there’s still the caretaker house on the property for personal use. We can visit Dorset anytime we like.”

His eyes held mine, unflinching and sincere.

“I’ll miss the horses, certainly, and the countryside has its charms. But not nearly as much as I’d miss you.”

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.”

She was naked before I registered her removing her own clothes, her hair falling around her shoulders as she positioned herself above me. The sight of her, flushed with desire, her perfect breasts swaying as she moved, stole my breath. Hamish appeared beside her, equally naked, his cock jutting proudly.

Imogen straddled me and sank onto me in one fluid motion that had us both gasping. The slick heat of her pussy gripping my cock felt like coming home.

“Fuck,”

I groaned.

“I missed this. I missed you.”

She braced her hands on my chest, setting a deliberate pace, her inner muscles clenching around me with each rise and fall. I closed my eyes briefly, lost in the sensation of being inside her again.

I rolled her over, spreading her legs and drilling roughly into her, until I felt Hamish’s hand graze over my ass, and I froze.

“Is this okay?”

he murmured against my ear, his hands smoothing down my sides, one wrapping around to stroke Imogen’s breast, the other trailing lower, down my back, between my legs.

“More than okay,”

I managed, my voice rough with desire. I’d watched him with Imogen countless times, had him in my mouth, my hand, but we’d never crossed this final threshold. The thought of him inside me, filling me while I filled Imogen, sent a jolt of pure need through my body.

I felt his slick fingers—when had he grabbed the lube?—tracing the sensitive skin behind my balls, moving with deliberate purpose toward my ass. The first touch against my entrance made me tense involuntarily, caught between nervousness and desperate curiosity.

“Relax,”

Hamish whispered, his free hand stroking my chest, my stomach, everywhere he could reach.

“I’ll go slow. I remember how you opened me up.”

Imogen slowed her movements, watching my face with hungry eyes as Hamish’s finger circled my entrance, applying gentle pressure without pushing inside. Imogen’s wet heat gripped my cock as Hamish’s teasing touch against my ass made me tremble with need.

“Please,”

I gasped, not sure what exactly I was begging for, just knowing I needed more.

Hamish’s finger pressed inside, just to the first knuckle, and I sucked in a sharp breath at the strange intrusion. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but the fullness was foreign, intimate in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“Breathe,”

Imogen instructed, leaning forward to kiss me deeply as Hamish worked his finger deeper, then added a second beside the first, stretching me with careful patience.

“You’re doing so well,”

Hamish praised, his voice thick with arousal as he added a third finger, stretching me wider.

“I’ve never—”

I broke off, gasping as his fingers brushed that spot again.

“You’re my first.”

I felt Hamish go still behind me, his breath catching.

“Your first man?”

“Like this,”

I clarified, pushing back against his hand, wanting more.

“First time being... fucked like this. I’ve only topped with guys.”

Hamish made a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and suddenly his fingers withdrew. I felt the blunt pressure of his cock against my entrance, larger and more insistent than his fingers had been.

“Are you sure?”

he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes, fuck, please,”

I begged, past pride or hesitation.

“Want to feel you inside me. Want both of you.”

Hamish pushed forward slowly, the pressure building until my body yielded, allowing the head of his cock to breach me. The burning stretch was more intense than I’d expected, teetering on the edge of pain before sliding into something deeper, more complex. Heavy and full and delicious.

“Oh fuck,”

I gasped, caught between the twin sensations of Imogen around my cock and Hamish filling my ass.

“Don’t stop.”

Imogen clenched around me, her eyes locked on my face as Hamish inched deeper, filling me by degrees. When he was fully seated inside me, all three of us stilled, connected in the most intimate way possible.

“I love you,”

Imogen whispered.

“Love seeing you like this, taking both of us.”

“Love you too,”

I managed, overwhelmed by the physical and emotional intensity of the moment.

“Both of you. So fucking much.”

Hamish pressed his lips to my shoulder, my neck, anywhere he could reach. “Show us,”

he urged, his hips making a small, testing thrust that sent a jolt of pleasure through me.

“Move with us.”

Finding our rhythm took a moment of adjustment—Hamish pulling back as I thrust into Imogen, then filling me again as I withdrew—but soon we established a perfect synchronicity. Each forward push into Imogen’s slick heat was followed by the exquisite fullness of Hamish driving into me, the dual stimulation unlike anything I’d ever experienced.

“Fuck, that’s good,”

I groaned, my head dropping to Imogen’s shoulder as the pleasure built to nearly unbearable heights.

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Never,”

Hamish promised, his pace increasing, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids.

“Never stopping. Never leaving.”

Imogen lifted her head, pulling my face close, so she could kiss me. “Mine,”

she whispered against my lips. “Ours.”

The intensity built within me, a rising tide of pleasure amplified by the knowledge that this wasn’t just sex—it was a promise, a beginning, a future I’d never dared hope for. I’d spent years running from commitment, from vulnerability, but caught between these two, I couldn’t remember why I’d ever been afraid.

“Close,”

I warned, the pressure building at the base of my spine, my balls drawing tight.

“Fuck, I’m going to come.”

“Yes,”

Imogen urged, grinding up into me, her pussy clenching around me as she chased her own release.

“Let go for us.”

Hamish’s thrusts grew more forceful, more erratic, his breath hot against my neck. “With us,”

he demanded, one hand reaching around to pinch Imogen’s nipple, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.

“Together.”

My orgasm hit with devastating force, tearing through me in waves that seemed endless. I felt Imogen convulse around me, her body arching as she cried out my name, then Hamish’s name. Behind me, Hamish thrust deep one final time, his cock pulsing inside me as he found his own release with a hoarse shout.

For several heartbeats, none of us moved, locked together in perfect connection, our ragged breathing the only sound in the room. Then slowly, carefully, we disentangled, collapsing onto the mattress in a sweaty, satisfied heap.

Imogen curled against my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. Hamish pressed against my back, his arm draped over both of us, his lips brushing gentle kisses along my shoulder.

“That was...”

I began, unable to find words adequate to describe what had just happened between us.

“Everything,”

Hamish finished for me, his voice thick with emotion.

“That was everything.”