Page 43 of Santa's Pucking Hat Trick

I nearly choked on my bagel.

Michael’s head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You had lunch with Roman?”

I held up my hands, trying to keep my cool. “It wasn’t like we planned it. He was in town, and we just ran into each other.Mominsisted we all sit down for a quick bite. A classic Paula Henning move in which I hadnopart.”

Michael crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Right. And now you’re spending the morning with him,volunteering at a hospital. What’s next, Rachel? You gonna start bringing him to family dinners?”

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “It’s just PR, Michael. Besides, aren’t you two supposed to be friends? Shouldn’t you of all people know he’s notthatbad?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied me with that annoyingly perceptive twin look, like he could see right through me. In this case, it’d be extra disastrous if he could see the truth. That I’d slept with Romanandhis other two best friends, and I had no plans of giving up the pleasure of that now.

He’d probably have a heart attack if he knew of my hopes to have all three of the guys at once.

“Rachel, are you sure this is all about PR?” he asked quietly, dropping the teasing tone. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Roman lately. And some of the other guys…”

My heart skipped a beat, hearing the impliedWes and Sawyer toothat he was afraid to say. Was he catching on? Did he know?

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could, the doorbell rang. Roman. Saved by the bell, literally.

“Gotta go,” I muttered, practically running out of the kitchen before Michael could ask any more questions.

I needed to swing back by the guest house to grab my purse, which I’d forgotten to carry with me to my mom’s kitchen. Roman went with me, of course, and the second we walked into the space where I’d so recently been ravished by his two best friends, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Earlier this week, I’d felt emboldened by this new sexy renaissance era I’d entered and I’d spilled the beans about my tryst with Sawyer and Wes. I could see in Roman’s face, serious and hungry as his eyes searched every inch of the space that was currently my home, that he was picturing it now. His eyes landed on the slowly wilting bouquet of flowers Wes had brought me, then trailedover to see what was clearly one of Sawyer’s shirts hanging from the post of my bed.

“Holy fuck, Rach,” Roman let out on a half sigh, half growl. “You…you weren’t kidding. You really fucked WesandSawyer.Together.”

Heat flooded through me as I remembered it. A perfect erotic feast—well, perfect but for one thing. If Roman had been there too, bringing his particular flavor of dirty talk and his perfect cock and his sexy-ass tongue ring, I might have actually melted into a horny puddle on the floor.

There was no shame, though. I met Roman’s eyes as I grabbed my purse at last, pulling it firmly onto my shoulder. “Yeah, I did. Well, separately, first. But together too. And it was good.”

More like fan-fucking-tastic.

“Fuck,” Roman let out. He adjusted his stance as if to keep a potential erection at bay, which made me want to drop to my knees and blow him until he was fully hard and ready to come inside me again. He ran a hand over his hair, disturbing it a little before he fixed it back to the perfect fake-tousled look he clearly spent so much time honing in the mirror. “So…that was a real invite to join, huh? Back at the ice center?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, recalling that sexually tense moment after our come-to-Jesus meeting. “If you want in, that is. Clearly, the other guys don’t have a problem sharing. I’m not sure how you feel about the concept.”

“I’m from a big family, Rachel,” Roman told me, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. “Sharing is second nature to me.”

“Oh,” I let out. All of my sexy overconfidence seemed to whoosh out with that breath. Did he really mean it? Was my pulse racing out of anticipation for something real, or in hope of something that was still out of reach?

“We both know regular monogamy has never been my thing,” Roman explained further with a shrug that was far too casual for this conversation. “I’ll be honest—I’ve been scratching at the walls hoping for another chance to fuck you. I want to bury myself in that sweet pussy every single way you want it, baby. If that means sharing with my teammates, two of my best friends, and watching you come again and again and again…yeah, I could have alotof fun with that.”

Oh, Jesus. I was far too wet, my clit pulsing with need. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it right now, no matter how tempting it was to call off our plans for the day and drag Roman only a few feet over to my bed.

“I…I’d like that,” I struggled to answer with a normal tone of voice. It still came out breathier than I intended, and it was almost hilarious how much of an understatement that was, but it was a fair effort. “But…not right now. We, uh, have plans.”

“Right. Rehab,” Roman joked. He adjusted the front of his pants, and I stifled my need to groan. Then, casual as ever, he waved toward the door. “After you, boss.”

Roman and I rode in my car to the hospital. He complimented Rhiannon, as he should, and then we drove together mostly in silence, though he did take the opportunity to throw a couple of complimentsmyway as well—he liked the way I’d worn my hair up, and the green sweater I’d picked this morning suited my skin tone.

It was kind of him, and it would have been surprising if he hadn’t been equally as pleasant that day we’d had an impromptu lunch with my mother. If I was honest, he’d been kind to me since we first slept together. Like I’d unlocked his personality after we’d scratched that itch. I found it hard for a while after that day at the photo studio to parse if he was putting on an act to try and get in my pants again, or if he’d just…warmed up to me in a genuine way. But now, it felt like I had my answer.Honestly, the latter scenario made more sense even before he’d agreed to share, no matter how badly I still wished I could see him in a negative light; he hadn’t needed to be especially kind to get me to fuck him the first time, after all. He especially had no reason to fake niceness now that I’d already confirmed my plans to get his cock inside me again.

The hospital was quiet when we arrived, peaceful rather than solemn, with plenty of children’s artwork adding color to the walls and the nurses dressed in fun patterned scrubs. We checked in with a volunteer coordinator, who led us back to a large playroom area filled with kids. A couple were in wheelchairs. A few were bald, clearly surviving through the hell of chemotherapy. One child wore a cannula in his nose, but otherwise had no visible signs of being sick.

They were all different sizes, ages, backgrounds, and they were equal in two ways: one, they were unlucky enough to be sick at a tender stage of life, and two, they absolutelyadoredRoman Jett.

The second we walked into the playroom and Roman let out a charming, booming hello, every kid’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was clear as Roman started to introduce himself to each of the kids, putting on a show even before the news crew showed up, that he wasn’t pretending to care. Some of the kids were hockey fans and some weren’t, but that didn’t matter. Roman made it a point to connect with each one, crouching down to their level and talking to them like they were the most important person in the room. It was like watching a whole new side of him, one I never would have guessed was there beneath the bravado and swagger.

“Hey, buddy,” Roman greeted a little boy who couldn’t have been older than six, bald and skinny from chemo but smiling brightly. He held a Halloween pencil with an eraser that was shaped like a ghost, touting it as his reward from treatmenttoday. Roman used it as a seamless in with the kid. “Cool ghost, dude. What are you dressing up as for Halloween this year? You’ve gotta have a plan, since trick-or-treat is only a couple of weeks away.”

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