Destiny Calls by Samantha Wayland (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📗

of heat that roared through his body as Patrick looked up and into his eyes.

Patrick grasped Brandon"s face between his palms, stared down into those big green eyes and did what he"d been aching to do since he"d left Brandon sleeping in bed that morning—Patrick kissed the bejeesus out of him. Their tongues met and tangled, their bodies bumped and Patrick felt connected, at last.

He heard Destiny close and lock the front door, sealing them in and protecting them from prying eyes. His tongue racing over Brandon"s, he reached out and tucked Destiny close the moment she returned to their sides, looping his arm around her waist so that she was plastered against them.

For the first time since Destiny"s phone call that afternoon and he"d torn out of the precinct with this heart in his throat, the warm hum of contentment he"d carried with him all day began to return, once more settling around his heart.

His lovers were safe. He thought about what could have happened and the kiss turned ferocious. He broke away only when his brain demanded oxygen. He gasped for air, pressing his forehead to Brandon"s, pulling Destiny in tighter. “I can"t believe we left you home alone today. My god, when I think about—” Patrick stopped when Destiny"s fingers touched his lips.

“Don"t,” she whispered.

He could hear that she was feeling the same aftershocks. He looked at her. “You said you"d wait for me before going into the house,” he accused, feeling the first hint of anger.

Destiny didn"t bother to look contrite. “Would you have waited?”

“I"m a cop.”

“That"s beside the point and well you know it.”

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“It"s exactly the point, damn it,” he argued, fear fueling his anger. He let them both go and took a step back. Holding them was wonderful, but now his mind had moved onto the pressing issue of their safety. He ignored the look they shot each other.

“I have things I want to say to both of you,” he said sternly, pointing at them and working himself up to a full lecture. “The risks, my god, I"ll—” His words were cut off when Destiny leaned in and captured his mouth for a long, hot kiss. Brandon"s fingers worked at his shirt buttons and he knew he was being intentionally distracted. He wasn"t going to let them get away with it.

Stepping back again, he tried to look severe. It wasn"t easy. Destiny undid his belt, then dropped her suit jacket to the floor and kicked her shoes across the room. “Damn it, you two, I won"t be put off.” Turning to Brandon he continued, “How could you let us hurt you last night?”

Brandon stopped pulling Patrick"s shirt from his pants to look up at his face. “What are you talking about?”

If Brandon noticed Destiny pushing his khakis to the floor, he didn"t indicate it.

Patrick refused to let his eyes drop with Brandon"s pants, even if it did make his eyeballs ache with the strain.

Goddamn it, he would be heard.

“Your shoulder! You should have told us to stop.” He pointed at the injured joint in question, his emphasis completely lost when Brandon leaned forward to push Patrick"s shirt from his shoulders and suck Patrick"s finger into his hot mouth.

Christ. He was already hard as a stone. He looked down. Shit. So was Brandon.

Brandon released his finger and laughed. “You"re joking about last night, right?” For the first time since Patrick had arrived home to find Destiny and Brandon clinging to each other on his bedroom floor, Brandon"s eyes were clear of worry. In fact, they were hot with need and way too tempting. Clearly, he wasn"t going to make any inroads there.

Looking at Destiny, he attempted again to make his point. “And you,” he started even as she pushed him backward while forcing his unfastened pants to his hips. “You said you would wait. I need to know you"ll never take another chance like that. Please, Des, promise me.”

For a moment Destiny"s eyes softened and he thought he"d finally gotten through to her. Then his stumbling legs came up against one of Brandon"s kitchen chairs and he wobbled. Righting himself, he waited for Destiny"s agreement.

“Patrick.” Destiny said his name softly.

“Yes, Kitten?”

Damn, when had his voice gotten that husky?

“Shut up and sit down,” she said, shoving him back.

He sat. Hard. His pants and boxers around his thighs, the cool wood of the chair seat shocking against his burning bare skin.

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Before he could regain his focus and return to his lecture, Destiny pressed her hands to her legs and slowly dragged the little skirt of her prim business suit up over her thighs. The satin straps of her garters came into view, robbing him of his good intentions and the ability to think.

Fuck it. He"d lecture them later.

Brandon stood back and watched in slack-jawed wonder as Destiny lifted her skirt, the revelation of black garters and smooth, creamy thighs like a punch to his solar plexus. His lingering worry, the promise of heartbreak, even his aching shoulder was forgotten.

Sweet Jesus, she was amazing.

He"d held himself in check for so long, he"d begun to feel numb. Dead inside. But not now. Now he felt intensely alive.

The fine wool of Destiny"s skirt slid up and over the glorious globes of her ass. He smiled. So damn alive.

Kicking off his shoes and pants, he drew one finger along the bare skin where her thigh met her ass as he stepped in close behind her, his lips to her ear. “No underwear at work, Des? Very naughty.”

She made a sound that was half laugh, half moan. “God, I thought about you two all day. I had to throw my thong away at lunch. It was just making it worse.” The idea of Destiny sitting at her desk at work, soaking her panties just by thinking about them, made Brandon unaccountably hot. The vibrant red stains on Patrick"s cheeks told him Patrick felt the same as he stared at her pussy, bared before him.

Brandon slid a hand