Maybe we should only get takeout from this place. As much as the idea of sharing Hannah on stage at the Scarlet Lounge has become one of my biggest fantasies, I don’t think we’ll get away with fucking her over this table.
I force myself to take another bite of my steak. It’s cooked to perfection, and any other day the plate would already be empty, but I can barely tear my eyes off Hannah for a moment to think about my food. It doesn’t help that I’m already fighting for my life not to stare at the way her dress hugs her perfect tits.
Being in your mid-forties and having a woman who monopolizes all your thoughts for the first time is weird as fuck.
I should have more control over myself and my emotions, but when it comes to Hannah, all reason goes out the window.
“Is your food not good?” she asks, her brows dipping in concern as she looks over our barely touched plates.
“The food is beautiful, sweetheart.”
“But you’ve barely touched it.”
Asher chuckles. “That’s because it’s really fucking hard to eat when you have a hard-on from the sex noises your girl makes while eating her favorite pasta.”
“Oh.” Her lips part slightly as a hint of pink spreads across her cheeks. “I’m sorry I’m distracting you from eating.”
“You never need to be sorry for enjoying your food, baby girl.” I reach across the table and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Hannah’s eyes dart to the table across from us before falling back to the plate in front of her.
Asher turns to see what she was looking at a moment before I do, and when I catch the glare of an older couple, I realize what has that look of shame on my girl’s face.
They’re judging us.
Maybe they realize we’re both with her, or perhaps the fact that I’m twice her age is what has them looking down their nose at my girl.
Regardless, I won’t have her taking on their feelings.
As long as the three people at this table are happy with our relationship, the rest of the world can fuck off.
Asher turns his attention back to Hannah. He moves his chair closer to hers and reaches up, pressing his palm to her cheek and bringing her to face him.
“Ignore them.”
She presses her eyes closed and drags in an unsteady breath. “It’s not that easy. I’ve spent my whole life thinking about how every move I make is perceived, how it will reflect on my family. I don’t know how to turn it off.”
“We don’t expect you to turn anything off, Hannah, but we also don’t want the opinions of others resting on your shoulders,” Asher says gently.
“Are we hurting anyone by being together?” I ask.
“No.”
“And does our relationship affect anyone else’s life apart from our own?”
“No.”
“And you’re happy with how things are between us?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” I squeeze her hand. “We know it’s going to take some time for you to get used to being in a relationship with two men, but we don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything.”
She nods slowly, leaning into Asher’s hand for comfort.
The sight makes my chest tighten. After everything we’ve done to make her ours, all the things we’ve given up, the parts of our lives we’ve moved around just so we can share this moment, it finally feels worth it, and I realize, not for the first time, there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do to protect my family.
CHAPTER FORTY
