Until now.
“I’m sure. Just tired.”
The two of them walked to the living room. Erin claimed her usual spot on the couch she shared with Oliver, while Gavin took the recliner. “Since you’re not in a chatty mood, I think we should talk about me. Because as you know, everything about me is fascinating.”
Gavin laughed, perfectly aware of why Oliver was so head over heels in love with her. Erin was genuinely fun to be with. She’d taken to calling him her best gay friend, while Oliver was her best boyfriend, and Layla, her best cousin friend. Erin liked to tease them, saying that she had so many best friends because she was, in her own words, “a goddamned national treasure.”
And because she wasn’t wrong, he, Oliver, and Layla always let the joke stand.
“Okay, so let’s dive in here,” he said. “What part of the Erin saga haven’t we covered tonight, because I can’t imagine there’s much we’ve missed? You barely came up for air at dinner.”
Erin had entertained him and Oliver at dinner with a recounting of her rather exciting workday in the E.R. Apparently three men had all been transported to the hospital, bloodied and bruised after an argument over a football game turned violent. The EMTs who’d responded to the call had erroneously believed the fight to be over, so when it erupted again in the waiting room, it had taken two doctors and three security guards to pull them all apart.
“The hunt for a roommate continues.”
“No luck?”
She shook her head. “I’ve met with three women in the last week, and the fact that every single one of them sounded a different alarm makes me think I’m probably going to have to take Jordan back once she gets sick of her new boyfriend.”
“What sort of alarms?”
“One woman asked about the hot water situation. Said she likes to take two forty-five-minute showers a day. What the hell could she do in a shower for an hour and half every day?”
Gavin wiggled his eyebrows. “I could probably come up with a list for you. How kinky do you want me to make it?”
“Gross. Pervert.” She threw one of the throw pillows from the couch at him. He caught it midair and placed it behind his head.
“Another one wanted to know what size clothes and shoes I wore because she just loves sharing clothes with girlfriends. Given the fact she showed up in mom jeans and an ancient, stained hoodie, I’m pretty sure that sharing means she plans to invade my wardrobe because hers is crap. And the last one asked if I would be annoyed if she practiced her clarinet every night. Not to be rude, but who still plays the clarinet after ninth grade band class?”
Gavin chuckled. “Maybe you could take up the flute and the two of you could march around the pub. Give us a parade. Everyone loves parades,” he said sarcastically.
“Everyone does not love parades,” she retorted.
“Parade?” Oliver asked, clearly missing every part of their conversation, except the last word. “Are you talking about the Christmas one? Because if so, I’m in. I love parades.” He picked up the beer Gavin had carried in for him as he sank down next to her, confused when she and Gavin cracked up laughing.
“I stand corrected,” Gavin said, once he managed to pull himself together. “Ollie loves parades.”
Oliver rolled his eyes, figuring out he was the butt of some joke, but he didn’t care enough to find out what it was. Instead, he reached for the remote and fired up the movie.
They’d decided to watch Christmas movies every Friday night in December, and tonight’s selection had been Gavin’s choice, Die Hard, which he proclaimed was the greatest Christmas movie ever made. In honor of the viewing, he’d changed into the Nakatomi Plaza 1988 Christmas Party T-shirt Erin and Oliver had bought him last year for Christmas.
“Everybody ready?” Oliver asked.
Erin and Gavin nodded, and Oliver turned the lights off as they settled in to watch.
After the first movie, the guys had been so pumped up—there really was so much testosterone in this apartment—they’d opted to go ahead and watch the second. It was after midnight, and Gavin and Oliver were actually debating starting the third when Erin stood up. “I’m out. I was struggling to keep my eyes open during that last one.”
Gavin shook his head. “You just don’t appreciate good movies.”
“Remember you said that when we watch my choice next week. Because contrary to what you think, Love Actually is actually the greatest holiday movie of them all.”
Gavin groaned, but she knew he was full of bluster. She’d made them watch the movie with her last year and both men admitted—albeit reluctantly—that they had liked it.
“Yeah,” Oliver said, yawning as he rose as well. “I’m tired too. Maybe we can keep the Die Hard marathon going tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a great plan,” she said. “I’m working the afternoon shift.”
Gavin snorted but turned the TV off, the three of them drifting down the hall that led to Gavin and Oliver’s bedrooms.
“Good night,” Gavin called out when they walked into Oliver’s room, and he continued on to his room at the end of the hall.
Oliver closed the door behind them, leaning against it, suddenly looking a lot less tired than he had in the living room.
“I thought you were tired,” she teased. They’d been together long enough that she could read all his moods. She knew what sleepy looked like, and she knew what horny looked like.
Oliver was currently horny.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. Just the sound of it had all thoughts of sleep vanishing from her mind.
And she had been sleepy.
Before Oliver, Erin had slept with four men, and she would have said she’d enjoyed sex with all of them. She’d been a fool.
Oliver took alpha to the next level in the bedroom, something she would never have suspected, given his laid-back attitude everywhere else. He’d introduced her to new positions, countless toys, bondage, sexy spankings, and a whole lot of other things that basically meant she was a raving nymphomaniac nowadays.
She reached for the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it off. She had performed her bra-removal magic trick for the guys earlier, so with that one quick tug, she was completely topless. Oliver’s eyes drifted to her breasts, and she could feel her nipples tightening in anticipation.
“I love your tits,” he murmured, something he said to her pretty much every night.
She reached beneath them, cupping and lifting, giving him a little show as she slowly pinched her own nipples. Oliver was a big fan of her stripteases, so she always took care to make sure he got a good show.
Her eyes drifted closed as she pinched just hard enough to cross over the line from pleasure to pain.
“Eyes open,” Oliver demanded.
Her eyelids lifted, and her gaze met his.
“Take off your pants and panties, sweet girl.”
She loved when Oliver called her his sweet girl. She’d never really been a big fan of terms of endearment in dating—names like baby and honey and sweetheart always felt a bit sexist to her. And honestly, sweet girl definitely should have fallen into that same category, but with Oliver, it simply added to the sexual power exchange between them in the bedroom. She would never have pegged herself as a submissive lover before Oliver, but everything they did together turned her on in ways she couldn’t have imagined.