Chance’s voice is quiet. “Because we’re interested. In you.”
Oh.Oh.
Everything else drops out of my brain. Every thought about who they are and what I’ve learned about them. The pieces I’m still trying to put together.
Dillon smiles faintly. “We figured honesty was the best policy before anyone got more… tangled up.”
“I see,” I say, though my brain is definitely not allowing me to see clearly at all right now.
Boone’s gaze softens when I look back at him. “No matter what you decide, your position in the company is safe. This would be entirely separate from that. You also don’t have to say anything tonight. Or ever, if you don’t want to. We just wanted to be up front.”
“We also want you to know, before you even have to ask, that we’re all clean,” Chance says. “Regular testing, no surprises. You’re safe with us.”
That probably shouldn’t make my cheeks heat after everything we’ve done together already, but it does. They’re so casual about it, so unapologetically direct. There’s no shame and no awkward fumbling.
Just facts.
And that does something to me. All the things. All the very bad things that should not happen while one is enjoying a perfectly cooked meal by candlelight.
I clear my throat in an effort to distract myself from the fact that my heart is suddenly pounding way further south than usual. “That’s, um… very responsible of you.”
A faint smile ghosts across Boone’s lips. “We try.”
Dillon tilts his head, those incredibly intense blues glinting with humor as his gaze catches mine and holds it. “You’re not running for the hills, so I’m guessing we didn’t completely freak you out.”
I give him a little shrug and, though I know it’s unlikely that he’ll buy it, I pretend my heart isn’t thudding in my crotch and every nerve ending I possess isn’t blazing with need. “The only thing I’m surprised about is that you decided to tell me all this over lasagna and pinot noir. It’s not exactly the usual kind of conversation you have at the dinner table.”
Chance grins. “Maybe not, but we’re not exactly the usual kind of men.”
As I look at all three of them in turn, I don’t know what possesses me to laugh, but I do. Maybe it’s the fact that this whole conversation feels so unreal, like someone has taken my quiet, careful hiding place and dropped it right into the middle of a fantasy I didn’t even know I had.
“I, uh, God, this is weird to just blurt out over dinner, but until the other day, I haven’t been with anyone in over a year. I’m clean too.”
That gets their attention. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that it’s been that long or the insinuation that by telling them, I’m letting them know that I’m interested too, but suddenly, three pairs of very different eyes are intently fixed on me.
The air in the room shifts into something dense and electric, almost like that feeling you get the moment before a storm breaks. Chance sets his glass down slowly. “Over a year?”
I nod, unable to suppress a burst of shaky, nervous, high-pitched laughter. “What can I say? I’ve been busy.”
Boone’s mouth curves just slightly. “Well, I guess we’ve got some catching up to do, then.”
The words hit like a bolt of lust right between my legs. I should deflect or change the topic, but instead, I sit there with my heart hammering, caught in the gravity of three men who are looking at me like I’m the answer to a question they haven’t dared to ask aloud.
Dillon leans forward, sliding his elbows onto the table and tilting his head. “So, if we said we’d like to explore whatever this is between us, would you be open to that?”
My mouth goes dry. My pulse roars in my ears.
And then, the strangest thing happens. It feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience when I nod.
“Yes,” I hear myself say, breathless and a little dazed. “I think I would.”
For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Dillon pushes back his chair and stands, that easy grin spreading across his face as he reaches for me. “Well, what are we all waiting for then?”
I laugh again, incredulous as I lift my gaze to his. “You’re joking, right?”
Boone groans and gets to his feet, muttering something about Dillon never knowing when to take his time. Chance’s jaw flexes, his eyes dark and unreadable as he exhales through his nose. “He’s not joking, but maybe he should be.”
Except the way he says it isn’t disapproval.
