Page 73 of Triple Pucked
My breath catches at the same time that D’Angelo stills.
“I don’t know.” My throat is tight.Shit, I wish that I had a better answer.But I can’t lie. My pulse is pounding. “Until we find out who threw it, I don’t want to say one way or the other because it would be a guess. Was it a stunt? A prank? A bet? Something targeted to threaten you…?”
D’Angelo’s jaw clenches. “This stops. Now.”
“But how?” Shay demands.
“I’m finding a way, cucciolo.” D’Angelo prowls to his feet. “Your sexuality and our relationship are not something to be mocked. They’re also not something that we should be ashamed about. I fucking hate that it’s become the weak spot that people can exploit to control or blackmail us. As long as we keep the relationship between all four of us a secret, the more vulnerable we are.”
My heart races.
I stare at D’Angelo, who is standing by the side of the bed, studying Shay and me like we’re the answers to a question he asked a decade ago.
Since he fell in love with me in college, I guess that I am.
“What are you saying?” Shay asks.
“I’m saying that you should think about whether you want the press or anyone else to set the pace and narrative of your coming out. I’ve always been open about being bi. This isn’t about me; it’s your journey. If you’re never ready, then I’ll support you. But what if someone is targeting you? Think about how ready you feel to be open about being bi not because you owe anybody else that but because you owe yourself it.” He leans forward, brushing his thumb over my lower lip and then Shay’s. “Also, I’m a possessive man. I want the world to know that you’re both mine.”
I moan, and my eyelashes flutter.
I want that so fucking much.
Yet is this the right time?
Would the sporting world and the fans accept us in a polyamorous relationship? If they don’t, then we would all lose everything that we’ve spent the last five months building.
Shay bites his lip. “But everything’s just so brilliant right now. We’ve moved in together. Eden is the happiest and most independent that he’s ever been. We three are bloody good together. We just need to win the next games. What if my shit ruins everything?”
D’Angelo’s expression becomes closed off. It’s startling.
Then he turns on his heel and swaggers to the window, leaning against the wall.
Shay exchanges a panicked look with me. I kiss his petal soft lips to stop him yanking on his handcuffed wrist.
He attempts to deepen the kiss, but I pull back.
Shay’s eyes are already dazed. He falls fast, whenever he’s bound. I have to be careful not to push him into subspace, since he doesn’t have much time before he needs to get ready for practice.
After losing the game yesterday, Dad insisted that the team spend the entire day at the rink in extra practice with the new assistant coach, Fleet.
I run my fingers down Shay’s arm that is held tautly above his head, before nuzzling against his side. “Your shit is our shit. Wait, that sounded more romantic in my head.”
Shay laughs. “Not one of my kinks, but thanks for the support, love.”
D’Angelo turns back to us, as we cuddle together like captured kittens in the center of the bed.
D’Angelo tilts his head, assessing. “I’ve been going about this all wrong.”
I blink at him. “You’re admitting that you were wrong…? Should I pop the champagne?”
He narrows his eyes. “Remarkably, once in a blue moon, it does happen.” Then he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”
I blink for a second time. “Now you’re also apologizing. There must be two blue moons.”
“Or I did hit my head on the boards,” Shay suggests.
I flick his nose. “Don’t even joke about that.”
