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“I’ll just find Pink—”
Bardot popped his hand on my ass and grinned bigger. “You don’t have time. Have a great practice, sweetheart.”
“Fucker,” I muttered.
He was right. Jogging through the arena and getting dressed as fast as I could gave me an extra five minutes before practice. If I had stopped to find Emily, I would have been late.
I followed the rest of the guys to the ice and cursed Bardot every step of the way.
I had to get out of my head.
If I messed up practice, or did the unthinkable and messed up a game because my thoughts were on the two people I was dating, the public’s opinion of my throuple status wouldn’t be well received when they inevitably found out.
Pink was standing off to the side, filming us as we knocked pucks onto the ice. “There it is, Roman. Another big smile?”
Roman looked at me, and I scowled, tipping my head to Pink. “Smile, man.”
He muttered something under his breath and plastered a smile on his face like a little kid who’d rather be doing anything else. Too much teeth and zero enthusiasm.
It was my turn past her camera next. I winked and blew a kiss, loving the way her cheeks turned red as she watched me and not the screen.
I needed to nail down a time with her and Bardot. My life was lonely. I was tired of going home to a dark house when I knew the two of them were living it up together.
So many times, it had been on the tip of my tongue to ask them to move in with me. But if they rejected me, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. So, instead of asking, I just went to sleep every night in a place that didn’t feel like a home.
I glanced at Pink, and my pulse roared in my ears.
I hated missing her when she was so damn close.
We needed to figure out something.
But first, practice.
We finally found time. Three days later, I was tangled up in Bardot’s sheets as sunlight poured in through his bedroom window.
He had slipped out of bed to make breakfast, despite my insistence we could order delivery and spend the day lounging.
Emily wasn’t awake yet. Her face glowed in the morning sun and I wanted to wake her up with a toe-curling orgasm, but we had stayed up way too late doing exactly that. She needed sleep.
And she looked so damn peaceful.
How could I disturb that?
I was torn between waking her up to spend more time with her, or enjoying how she looked in that moment. Our time together was so limited and I hated there was even a decision to be made.
While I deliberated, she blinked her eyes open and smiled at me. “Morning, Mac.”
She sat up and I wrapped my arms around her. The room smelled like Bardot—all manly and spices I couldn’t name. But Pink was a mix of all three of us that morning. She was soft and sweet and warm.
It took all my self-control to grab her hands and drag us out of bed, toward the smells of breakfast.
“Sebastian’s cooking for us.”
“Of course he is,” Emily murmured, an indulgent smile on her face.
“Get cozy on the couch,” he called from the kitchen as we walked past. “I’ll be out in just a minute.”
“I wish this could be every morning,” Emily sighed, snuggling up to me.
