Hope nodded. Maybe it was. Soul mates, after all, were the best kind of magic.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Stepping out of the bedroom and padding down the hallway, Hope stopped to take in the sight of the two men waiting for her. Grant wore a pair of dark jeans that fit his thick, muscular thighs. A buttery soft, navy-blue V-neck sweater covered his upper body and torso to perfection, the sleeves pushed to his forearms. His dark, silver-streaked hair and beard were trimmed and styled, and those dark, chocolate eyes roved over her with appreciation.
Van had chosen a pair of lighter wash jeans and paired it with a long sleeved, army green henley, the buttons left undone at his throat. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms as well, revealing the tattoos that decorated his arms down to his wrists. His blonde hair still looked damp and fell boyishly over his forehead. They were both so ridiculously handsome. And hers.
Jade had helped her carry several of her boxes to her car after finishing their wine, sending her off with a hug and a promise to come over for a girl’s night later in the week. Grant and Van both helped her carry in her first boxes, officially moving her in, which had made Grant ecstatic. She dug through one box until she found an acceptable going out outfit, her favorite pair of black skinny jeans and a simple black long-sleeved shirt thathugged her ample curves. A soft, burnt orange colored scarf was draped around her neck, and she had styled her hair in loose waves down her back. Cognac brown, low-heeled booties covered her feet.
“Is it bad that I’m nervous?” she asked, crossing the living room toward them. “This is our first date… it sounds so silly, considering everything…”
Van grinned and tugged her into the circle of his arms as soon as she was close enough to reach. “You mean considering you’ve had both of our cocks in this beautiful body more times and in more ways than we can count?”
She laughed out loud, her nervousness abating. “You say the filthiest things…”
“But it made you laugh,” he said softly, ducking his head to kiss her. “Fuck, now all I can think about is how fucking hot it was this morning when you—”
“I swear to god, if you talk about that right now, I’m going to get hard and then we’ll never make it to dinner,” Grant muttered, though he stepped up behind Hope, planting his hands on either side of her hips and gently thrusting his front against her ass. She laughed, wiggling against him. Both men groaned. “I’d like a replay of that tonight.”
Making a quarter turn, she looped one arm around Grant’s neck and pulled him down for a hot, open-mouthed kiss, the reminder of their morning sparking something deep in her belly.
Grant growled low in his throat, nipping her bottom lip sharply with his teeth. She gasped and then Grant circled her throat with his hand, squeezing just tight enough and pushing her away. The heat in his dark gaze turned her into a puddle. “Fucking dammit, butterfly, you naughty thing…”
“Let’s go, before I strip these clothes off you and lay you out on this fucking countertop as my meal,” Van grunted, slapping one ass cheek lightly. She laughed and pulled her arms fromaround both of them. Grant was rock hard in his jeans and she licked her lips with a grin. “Stop it, little one. I know that look, and we don’t have time.”
“Fine…” she whispered sulkily, pouting. Grant’s hand returned to her throat, tipping her head up toward his. His breath misted over her face as he leaned close, and she whimpered softly.
“I want nothing more than to let you put my cock in your mouth and fuck this pretty throat, baby girl,” he growled low, sending electricity zinging through her straight to her middle. “And if you behave, I’ll let you suck me off while Van drives us home tonight.”
“Holy shit,” Hope moaned, nodding as much as his hand at her throat would allow.
“Jesus, now I’m fucking hard,” Van groaned, palming his own dick through his jeans. Hope laughed throatily.
“Let’s go,” Grant growled, though a grin tugged at his lips.
“Yes, sir.”
They managed to leave the condo and make it to their dinner reservation on time, though she was admittedly wet and aching by the time they arrived. Sitting in the backseat with Van while Grant drove, they had petted heavily through their clothes, kissing and teasing mercilessly. Hope had smiled angelically when both men had to adjust the erections they were both sporting.
The restaurant Van had chosen was an old favorite of hers, a family-owned Italian restaurant that had the best chicken parmigiana around. Grant requested a table instead of a booth, and they were led to one near the center of the room. Hope felt like they were on display… but she attributed it to nerves.
Grant held her chair for her, while Van spoke to the waiter that stopped at the table. He ordered a bottle of red wine and a basket of breadsticks, per Hope’s request. As Grant gentlypushed her chair in, she looked up at him and smiled. He bent low and pressed his mouth to hers in a quick, chaste kiss before taking his own seat. She blushed, glancing around, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. She sat between them, the two of them facing each other across the small square table. Van took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly.
“Just breathe,” Van said softly, and she nodded. When the waiter returned with their wine and the basket of fresh, buttery breadsticks, she forgot her nerves because her mouth started watering. Van handed her one on a plate and she bit into it, closing her eyes in rapture, her body swaying in her seat. Van laughed lightly and said to Grant, “You’re right. She does dance when she eats.”
“I do not!” she protested, opening her eyes and staring at him, then Grant.
“You just were,” Grant chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He shook out his napkin and placed it in his lap before taking a breadstick for himself. “It’s adorable, Hope. That’s how we know you like something. You do a little happy dance.”
She blushed again. “You’re not supposed to pay that close attention,” she whispered.
“We’re not supposed to pay attention to what our girl likes?” Grant asked, leaning forward over the corner of the table. He pecked another kiss to her lips. “It’s our job, baby girl. To take care of you.”
Van handed Hope a small, leather-bound menu, and then passed one to Grant over the center of the table. “I haven’t been here in ages.”
“I’m sure you don’t do a lot of eating out,” Hope laughed.
“He’s a terrible dinner guest,” Grant grunted, glaring at Van over the top of his own menu. Van shrugged and didn’t look the bit apologetic.
