What He Left Behind(55)

“We already were,” Michael says.

“But enough for oral?”

Michael nods as he runs his fingers along Ian’s arm. “I think it was a foregone conclusion that it would happen eventually.”

I smile. “That’s probably the most optimistic thing you’ve said since we started out.”

He smiles too. “I guess you guys are f*cking the cynic right out of me.” He and Ian exchange grins, and Michael shrugs. “Tonight, I decided I was tired of getting so hung up on oral. Because I know I love it—I just had to get past that mental barrier. We started kissing before you got home, and—”

“That was f*cking hot,” Ian whispers. “One minute, we’re kissing on the couch. The next, he’s asking if the offer is still open to suck his dick.” He shivers, running a hand over Michael’s hip. “Damn right it was.”

“Yeah, it was.” Michael lifts his head and kisses Ian lightly. “Thank you, by the way. It seems like such a stupid thing to get hung up—”

“You don’t have to justify any of this, Michael.” Ian rests his hand in the middle of Michael’s chest. “You’ve been through hell. Getting past that is a process.”

“Still.” Michael swallows. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ian kisses him, then turns to me. “You’re, um, not upset, are you? About us starting without you tonight?”

“No, definitely not.” I shake my head. “I was just thinking.” I study them both. “Out of curiosity, when you guys started fooling around tonight, would it…” I hesitate. “Would it have been different if I hadn’t been on my way?”

They exchange puzzled glances.

“How so?” Michael asks.

“I mean, do you think you’d be completely comfortable one-on-one with Ian?”

Ian’s eyebrows jump.

Michael’s eyes lose focus. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Josh does have a point,” Ian says. “Whenever you and I have been together, Josh has been here, or he’s been well on his way. We didn’t even get started tonight until, what, ten minutes before he got home?” He trails the backs of his fingers up Michael’s arm. “If you want to see what it’s like without him as a safety net, then—”

“I don’t see how I’d freak out with you, though.” Michael smiles. “I know you. I trust you.”

“Exactly,” I say. “So it makes perfect sense. If some nerves or past trauma come out at an inopportune moment, you’ll be in good hands. I know it’s kind of baby steps, but that’s probably the best thing, you know?” I search Michael’s eyes. “Only if you want to, though. Of course.”

“I do.” Michael chews his lip. “But you guys have already gone above and beyond for me. I don’t this to turn into something that’ll cause problems between you two.”

“It won’t.” Ian squeezes his arm. “If there was a problem, none of us would be here in the first place.”

Michael’s eyebrows pull together. “So…”

“If you’re game to try,” Ian puts a hand over Michael’s. “There’s one way to find out if you’re comfortable with just me.” To me, he says, “If you’re really okay with it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

We both turn to Michael, and he shrinks back slightly, as if the double scrutiny is more than he can handle.

I slide my hand under his and Ian’s. “It’s up to you. If you’d rather keep to all three of us…”

“No, I trust Ian. There is.” Michael glances at me, then turns to Ian. “Meet me at my apartment tomorrow night? After work?”

“Let’s do this.” Ian grins, and I hope to God Michael feels the same tingle of anticipation I do.

After a moment, he returns Ian’s grin. “I can’t wait.”





Chapter Seventeen


Tonight’s the night.

Ian isn’t home when I get there. His car is gone. The dog is whining and bouncing, eager for attention. The laptop on the table is closed, all the papers tucked away in an attaché case. Rosie is peering at me as if it’s my fault that Ian isn’t here, and how dare I come home without him?

“Sorry, sweetie.” I scratch her ears but stop before she swats me. “He’ll be home later.”

How much later? I stop in my tracks. My visits with Michael haven’t been overnight, but no one explicitly decided whether this one would be. Do I wait up?

I shake my head and head into the kitchen to make myself something to eat. This is hardly the first time I’ve come home to an empty house, and I can handle it. I always have.

But his absence is painfully conspicuous tonight.

This is a good thing, I remind myself. Michael’s comfortable enough with Ian to be alone with him. I trust Ian—Michael’s in good hands, and Ian will come home to me. If not tonight, then tomorrow.

Now if I could convince my brain to stop panicking over it and turning it into something it’s not, I’d be in good shape. Ian isn’t having an affair any more than I was. Michael isn’t going to wind up traumatized all over again because Ian won’t let that happen. Ian will come home at the end of the night, and everything will continue as normal. Well, some shade of normal, anyway.