Page 8 of Accepted Precedent
Andrew asked that I stay with him tonight, but if that means staying with Mickey too, I’ll happily sleep in the spare bedroom. Things are complicated enough. “How are you so calm?”
“I don’t ask questions,” she replies curtly, retrieving the cleaning supplies and trash bags. “Mr. Gallagher is a good man who sometimes has to do things that others may find…unsavory.”
I swallow thickly, my heart beating loudly against my chest. “Did he kill someone?”
“Be gentle with him tonight.” She hands me the supplies and I nod once. “He won’t be himself until the morning.”
It’s unlikely she’ll betray Mickey’s trust and divulge what happened. What if the Gallaghers aren’t only savvy businessmen who invest in political futures? What if he’s part of a mafia family? Is he a murderer? Did he save someone? The idea that he isn’t who I thought he was both scares and thrills me—something I’ll need to discuss with my therapist at some point, leaving out key details to keep secrets safe.
I take the stairs two at a time and stop at the door before Mickey’s, opening it enough to peer inside. It’s smaller than his, but even in the dark it appears to be larger than my entire apartment. I close the door and hesitantly open Mickey’s. There’s the faint sound of a sink running, and their whispers echo in the bathroom. I wait outside of the ensuite, unable to help myself from eavesdropping.
“Evie will be here in a minute. What do you want me to tell her?” Andrew asks softly.
“She’s going to be your wife, giving up everything to help you. We need to be honest with her.” There’s a thump of something wet hitting the floor. “She’s a strong woman; she can handle it. Once you’re married, I wouldn’t be surprised if you fall in love with her.”
“It isn’t like that with us. We’re just friends. I love her, but I don’t think I could ever bein lovewith her.”
“Friends make the best lovers,” Mickey laughs, and the water turns off. I jump as the bathroom door opens wider to two verynaked men. Andrew has a few red streaks marking his forearms, but Mickey has blood smeared on his chest and hands. “Isn’t that right, angel?”
I pull my items closer to me as I leap back. “Fuck! You scared me. I was just about to knock.”
“Come here,” he commands. I take a small step, keeping my eyes on his, no matter how tempted I am to sneak a peek at the rest of him. “We’ve been friends for a while now, but you don’t know anything about me or what I do. It’s about time I tell you the truth.”
“Can we have this conversation when you’re not…” I glance down, which will be clocked as the biggest mistake of my life. He’s half-hard—why is he half-hard?Does murder turn him on? I quickly look away.
Mick closes the distance, but I still can’t meet his eyes. “Would you feel better talking about it if you were also naked?” I try not to laugh as he removes the trash bags from my grasp and sets them on the counter, then does the same with the rags and cleaner. “Look at me, angel.” With a deep breath, I finally do, and am instantly lost in his emerald eyes. “I go to great lengths to protect this country and the people I love. We had an eventful night, but I need Andrew—and you—to get my mind off things.” My gaze falls to Andrew, who is already stuffing a trash bag full of Mickey’s clothes. “He won’t touch you. Neither will I. But nights like tonight, I need human connection.”
“Did you kill someone?” I finally ask, wishing with all my being he says no.
He tilts my chin, and his searing gaze burns into me. “No, not this time. My brother did.” My eyes widen as I suck in a breath. “We can do storytime later. I need to get cleaned up.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” is the only reasonable response I can manage, given that he just confessed his brother murdered someone.
“Not so fast, beautiful.” He turns me around to face the mirror, revealing a red mark on my chin. “You also need to get cleaned up.”
“Whose blood is on my chin, Mick?” I growl, eyes narrowed on his reflection.
“Two security guards who work for Justice Vasileiou.”
“Ileah’s father?”
He nods. “They were outside of your friend’s home. You’ll want to check on Ms. Vasileiou in the morning.”
My stomach drops. I should call her now, but there’s no explanation I could come up with for why I know about her dead security detail. “I’ll clean up the mess, then take a shower after you two.”
The sound of the bathtub pulls my attention to it. “Wash your face in the sink,” Andrew insists, handing me a clean washcloth and his favorite facial cleanser. “Then you’re going to take a bath while we take a shower.” He then leans in to whisper, “I know this is a lot. I’ll take care of you, so we can take care of him.”
This isn’t Andrew’s first time dealing with this, and I hate that he’s kept secrets from me all this time. We’re supposed to be best friends. Still, Mickey trusts me with this, and I don’t take it lightly. Listening to Andrew, I wash my face, and once the boysare in the shower, I strip out of my clothes and step into the large tub, which is easily the size of a small jacuzzi—complete with jets.
As I soak, I replay this evening: kissing my best friend for the first time, kissing his boyfriend, the ride to the house… There’s an ache in my core, and I can’t help tracing my fingers up my thigh until I reach my swollen clit to the thought of Mick’s face between my legs. I peer over my shoulder, and even through the steam, I can make out Andrew washing Mickey. He’s sweet and attentive. Mickey takes Andrew’s face in his hands and kisses him, and it has to be one of the most beautiful moments I’ve seen in a long time—there’s so much love.
Andrew says something to Mick, then drops to his knees, gripping Mickey’s cock before sliding his mouth onto it. A whimpered gasp escapes me as Mick’s grunts fill the bathroom. I’ll likely hate myself for it later, but I tease my clit in quick, firm circles to the sound. Afraid I might get caught, I quickly look away, closing my eyes as I listen to Andrew moan around Mickey’s thick cock as Mick praises him. For a brief moment, I imagine it’s Mickey telling me I’m taking him so well.
My eyes fly open. I can’t do this. It’s wrong on so many levels. An image of Mickey coming home covered in blood flashes before me, effectively squashing the fantasy and any potential orgasm.
Why did Finn kill Ileah’s security detail? She mentioned seeing someone in secret—was it Finn this whole time? My mind is reeling with possibilities, but I can’t ask her outright if she was sneaking around with Mickey’s brother.
Mick’s growl pierces through my thoughts, “The moment we’re alone tonight, you’re mine.” I whimper at his words, covering my mouth to stifle it. They must’ve been so caught up in theirshower fun that they forgot I’m still here. The water turns off, and my heart thumps loudly in my chest. There’s whispering I can't make out, then there’s the sound of wet footsteps on the tile, growing louder as he approaches. I suck in a breath as he purrs beside my ear, “Did you finish?”
