Page 18 of Three Bossy Boyfriends (Honeysuckle Harbor #3)

Christopher

I’m pacing outside of Evan’s apartment building.

It’s late, almost eleven, and I’ve been debating what to say to convince Evan that leaving the firm is a stupid move.

I’m fired up with righteous indignation and pure hatred for Mary Grace, even though she’s essentially only doing her job to protect the firm.

It actually makes me hate her even more, because I know she has a valid point.

Interpersonal relationships in a law office between superiors and subordinates are at best inappropriate.

At worst, a recipe for total disaster. Having emotions and sexual tension running high all day between the three of us in various combinations doesn’t exactly lead to high productivity or wise decision making.

Look at how distracted I got today watching Evan and Finley together.

I let my guard down to the point that I was stroking Evan’s cock in my unlocked office.

Running my hands through my hair, I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Evan.

Are you home?

Yes. Where are you? I texted you earlier.

I had been sitting in a pub, nursing a drink and debating various plans to get Evan his job back, ranging from simply stupid to illegal. I’d seen his text, but I didn’t know how to respond.

He’d said, “Make sure Finley is okay.”

That had been a jolt. He was worried about Finley, more so than himself.

Hell, more so than me.

Finley was right. I’m jealous of what they’ve shared.

That’s why I was so reckless at the office. I want Evan. Not that I need or want to have him exclusively or that I want to cut Finley out of the equation. I don’t. It’s hot to know they share sexual chemistry and a friendship. They’re the same age. I’m…not.

Finley makes Evan happy, and that makes me happy.

That doesn’t mean that I’m not envious of the fact that she’s gotten to touch him, feel him inside her, had their eyes locked while they pleasured each other.

I’ve been waiting so long to indulge in fucking Evan that the tension brewing beneath the surface has nowhere to go. I’m damn near crawling out of my skin, and I let myself get carried away today with dire fucking consequences.

I’m angry with Mary Grace, but I’m also angry with myself.

I know better.

I text Evan back.

I’m outside your building. Are you alone?

You’re outside? Do you want me to come down, or are you coming up?

What I need to say, what I need to do , can’t be done on the sidewalk.

I’m coming up. Is Finley with you?

No, she went straight home from the office.

I don’t object to seeing Finley right now. I actually want to make sure she’s okay.

After Mary Grace ran off to tell Charles she’d caught me kissing Evan, I’d stayed in my office for a while.

Everything in me was screaming to go into the paralegal work area, but I knew everyone would be gossiping and that all eyes would be on me.

It would put Finley in a worse position to talk to her than not, because everyone in the office would assume she would be hurt by finding out her boyfriend was kissing another man right under her nose.

Now wasn’t the time to be confessing we were all in on the whole setup together.

I can handle being the office asshole. It doesn’t bother me.

But I feel terrible that Finley is being seen as a victim. And that Evan is some kind of villain in all of this.

It’s freezing outside. Evan lives in a building that used to be a warehouse and now houses trendy apartments. Inside the foyer, I scroll through the screen impatiently until I get to Y for Young. I tap his name. A second later, the interior door buzzes and clicks open.

I’ve never been to Evan’s apartment. His apartment is on the second floor, so I take the stairs, needing the jog to work off some of my frustration. It suddenly feels like we’ve wasted an entire year. Like rules and jobs and people’s opinions shouldn’t have mattered.

I know that isn’t true, and that Evan had a hell of a lot more to lose than me, but now that he’s already lost it, it all feels just like time we could have been together, seeing where this relationship can go.

Time spent getting to know every little detail about each other’s lives, meeting each other’s families, taking a vacation. Cooking intimate dinners together, watching hockey with popcorn or ice cream—I don’t even know which he prefers—and strolling along the beach at sunset.

I should know what his apartment looks like. What his favorite mug to drink coffee from is or if he has a set of six white ceramic mugs that mean nothing to him except a vessel to drink from. I should know if his couch is comfortable or jabs me in the back when we lay together on it.

Fucking. We could have been fucking. This entire year.

It makes me angry.

My hand lifts to knock hard on his door, but the door opens before I can give an angry rap of my knuckles on wood.

He’s dressed casually. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen him wearing anything but a suit. The sight of him in black joggers and a soft hunter green shirt makes my mouth go dry.

“Why did you just roll over?” I demand. “You should still have your job. You’ve worked your ass off for the firm.”

“Hello to you, too.” The corner of his mouth turns up, and he steps back, holding the door open. “Come in. Unless that’s all you have to say.”

My anger dissipates. Evan always has that effect on me. He’s…ease. Comfort. Goodness.

I have a lot more to say, but first, I need to do something.

Fisting a handful of his shirt into my hand, I tug him toward me. Evan’s breath catches, and it’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever heard. I brush my lips over his—soft, at odds with my words. I breathe in his scent and kiss him again, sinking my teeth briefly into his bottom lip.

“Oh, I’m coming in. There’s nothing to stop us now.”

“Good, because I almost just let go of the door and locked us out.” Evan gives me a rueful look and shoves the cascading door back open. “I left the fob inside.”

That thought makes me shake my head. “That would be the final straw on a terrible day.”

I follow him inside. His apartment has high ceilings and an exposed brick wall, but it’s compact.

More vertical space than actual square footage.

His furniture is very industrial and masculine.

It suits the vibe of the building. I immediately spot a black-and-white photo on his console table of him, a young woman, and two people in what I would guess to be their sixties.

Obviously, his parents and sister. They’re on the beach, dressed casually. A visit to their son in South Carolina.

It reminds me again that I want to know everything about Evan.

“So why are you so angry, exactly?” Evan asks, padding in his socks to his couch. He gestures for me to have a seat in a club chair opposite him. “We were really playing with fire today.”

“Because if this is just where we were going to land—you leaving the firm—we could have done this a year ago. You could be a year further with another firm. We could have spent all this time together.” Feeling obstinate, I sit on the couch next to him.

“Yeah, but you would have never suggested I leave the firm. That’s not how you’re built.

You wouldn’t have asked me to sacrifice my position.

And truthfully, I had blinders on. I was on a career trajectory.

It never really occurred to me to look for another job, and maybe I didn’t know if this was real or just a potential hookup.

We haven’t really discussed any of that. ”

He’s right, of course. And maybe a year ago my answer would have been different.

“This isn’t a hookup. Not to me.” I drop my hand over his and entwine our fingers. “For fuck’s sake, Evan. I’m in love with you.”

His eyes widen. “What?” He visibly swallows. “But…I…God, Christopher. I’m in love with you, too.”

Just like that, it’s out there and all my anger falls away. Evan loves me too, and we’re going to work this out. All of it.

We both close the space between us.

Then we’re kissing in a hot, passionate collision. My hands are in his hair, and he’s tugging at my tie as we explore each other fully.

“I feel responsible for today,” I murmur between kisses. I should just shut the fuck up, but we’ve spent a year not communicating enough and now I want it all out there. Everything.

“I’m a big boy, Christopher,” he says. “I make my own choices. I was right there with you. And I’m leaving the firm with no regrets. Absolutely fucking none.”

It’s the absolution I need. I cup his cheek. “God, you’re fucking perfect. And so damn pretty. How are you this pretty? You’re like a painting.”

He laughs softly. “You better mean a Greek God.”

“Hell yes, I do.” I kiss him again, hard, then bend down over his lap.

I need to finish what I started earlier. In a second, I have his hard cock out of his joggers, and Evan swears. As I stroke him, I glance up and give him a grin. “Damn, even your cock is pretty.”

“Fuck you.”

It’s my turn to laugh. I feel light, heady, amazing. This is real. This is just the beginning.

I take him into my mouth, wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock.

Then I take him in and out, relishing his moans.

I take my time, brushing his balls, following my mouth with the tight slide of my fist up and down.

I’ve been waiting for this moment for fucking ever and I’m going to savor it.

“I never imagined this would go like this,” Evan murmurs. “You sucking me first. I always thought it would be the other way around.”

“Me either. But don’t worry. Once you’ve exploded in my mouth, I’m going to boss you around for the rest of the night.”

“Then I guess be prepared to get bossy because I’m going to come.”

Hell fucking yeah.

Evan gives a groan, and I open my throat. His hands are digging into my hair. Then I’m taking his hot cum with a deep, urgent growl.

A few seconds later, I’m running my thumb over my bottom lip. “Get in your bedroom. Now. I need you.”

Evan’s eyes are hooded and glazed with both satisfaction and desire. “Yes, boss.”