Page 11 of Doc

Brat. My cock and I will see you later then.

Plans made, I put my phone away, grab the chart hanging on the door, and get to work.

Along day of unplanned assisting, and I drag myself home to my new apartment on weary feet. When I open the door and step through the threshold, I freeze. The sounds and smells wafting from further inside the apartment are my first signs of being invaded.

The second signs are the shoes kicked off to the side, none of which are mine. With a sigh, I remove my shoes and nudge them near the pile that simultaneously makes me twitch and smile.

Walking through to the living room with my suit slung over my shoulder, I study the scene in front of me. Two of my best friends are sprawled on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, beers clutched in hand as they watch baseball like this is normal. I can’t see the third pain in my ass, but from the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen, I can take an educated guess.

“What are you fuckers doing here?”

Donovan turns his head to meet my eyes and grins, lifting his beer. “Watching baseball, what areyoudoing?”

“I thought I was going to relax after a long day, but I guess not.”

Dmitri leans over his brother and pouts. “You mean you don’t want to hang out with us? Well, now I’m sad.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn on my heels and head for my bedroom. Dropping my dress shirt and trousers in the hamper, I toss the jacket over the back of a chair before heading into the bathroom and stripping.

The shower after a long day makes me groan and I close my eyes, tilting my head down to feel the pressure of the spray on the back of my neck. The longer the hot water beats down on me, the looser my muscles become, and slowly, I relax by degrees.

As I stand under the spray, the whirlwind of the day finally hits me, and I set a hand on the wall to steady myself. I didn’t doubt that I was going to get the job. My uncle and Cristian Amato orchestrated the whole thing, after all.

What Ididn’texpect was Doc. He is…something else. A brat in need of a firm hand, for one thing, and intriguing as sin for another. Some dark part of me wants to take him in hand and force him to earn that respect he talked about, another knows not to touch that bag of crazy with a ten foot pole.

My cock stirs at the thought of forcing Doc to his knees, his amber eyes looking up at me as they fill with tears while I thrust my cock into his mouth. Groaning, I turn the water to cold, unwilling to jerk myself off to my new boss. Not only that, knowing my luck, one of my asshole friends will burst in here and catch me in the act.

The cold water does the trick to erase my burgeoning arousal, and I hurry to dry off before dressing in sweats and an old T-shirt that’s just tight enough it’s probably one of the triplets—notthat it matters, the four of us have shared more than just clothes in our twenty-year friendship.

In the living room,Dmitri and Donovan are where I left them. As I enter the room, twin pairs of storm gray eyes meet mine, causing me to roll my eyes.

“How’d you even get in here?”

Dima smiles. “How do you think?”

I huff and head for the kitchen, saying over my shoulder, “I’m buying an electronic lock tomorrow.”

“You’re no fun!” Vonny calls back.

Entering the kitchen, I find Dominic using my kitchen like he belongs. He looks up from what he’s doing to grin at me, his gray eyes full of mischief. If it weren’t for growing up with the three of them, it’d be impossible to tell them apart. Not only are the three of them identical, down to the way they cut their hair and how they dress, but they’ve tailored their mannerisms to further throw people off.

The only way someone who doesn’t know them or their miniscule tells could ever possibly hope to tell them apart is the fact that Donovan is deaf. Though, if they’re really fucking with someone, he’ll forgo his cochlear implants and all three will play deaf.

How I got stuck with them as my best friends is a mystery to me. “Sour cream mashed potatoes and”—I lean forward over the counter to try to see into the pot on the stove—“pelmeni?”

“Yep. I wanted borscht, but I was outvoted, so mashed potatoes it is. Set the table? I have no idea where anything is.”

“Because it’s not your kitchen,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

“Well if someone would have invited us over sooner, this wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“I’ve only been here a week. And I didn’t invite any of you, you showed up like a bad smell.”

“You love us, Sory.”

“Debatable.”

Setting the small kitchen table, I head to the fridge and grab everything that wasn’t there this morning. “Oh good, you got the good sour cream,” I say. “I guess I love you a little.”

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