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

the facts first. Patrick was never mean, always well intentioned and absolutely famous for letting his big mouth get him into trouble. “Tell me what happened. I"ll help you if I can.” Patrick"s laugh made it clear he didn"t think it was funny at all. He turned, his arms tightly crossed on his chest, his eyes not quite meeting hers. She wanted to reach for him, to offer him comfort, but she stayed where she was.

“I kissed Brandon.”

For a moment, she simply couldn"t process the information. “I"m sorry, what?”

“I kissed him,” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “I fucking kissed him, Des.”

Oh boy. She held back from saying what was foremost in her mind, which was, roughly, Oh shit. And Hallelujah.

Instead she drew a deep breath and struggled to find the right words to help Patrick. He was already upset and she hated to poke at him, but she needed to know what the hell was going on in that head of his. She tested the ground a little before wading into the bog. “Is that a bad thing?”

Patrick shot her a look that said he thought she was a complete simpleton, then launched himself forward to pace the kitchen. Farley wisely retreated to his bed in the corner.

“Of course it"s a bad thing,” he said, running his hand through his hair while pivoting and making the return trip across the room. “He"s my oldest friend. This is totally fucked up. It should never have happened.”

“How did it happen?”

Patrick quickly recounted the evening"s events, giving a great deal of emphasis to the importance of scaring off this would-be admirer of Brandon"s and very little detail about the actual kiss, except to say, “It wasn"t the kind of kiss I"d give my sister, if you know what I mean.”

And she suspected she did.

When he told her about his smart remark regarding their “performance”, she cringed. She could only imagine what Bandon had felt when Patrick had dismissed the kiss out of hand. She wanted to cry for Brandon. But then, it pretty much looked like Patrick wanted to cry for Brandon, too.

“And then he just left!” Patrick continued. “Goddamn it, Des, I saw the look on his face when he got in that cab. He looked so… hurt.” Still pacing, Patrick dragged his fingers through his hair again, setting the dark strands on end once more. Then, with 18

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the wide eyes of one who has just connected the dots, he turned to her. “Did you know?”

Of course she"d known. She was a woman, after all, and only human men and a few species of really stupid badgers didn"t have the ability to see what had been so glaringly obvious for years. Brandon was in love with Patrick.

The whole unrequited love thing had to suck on a good day. And today had clearly not been a good day for Brandon. She wasn"t going to make it worse by confirming his feelings to Patrick.

“Did you try to talk to him?” she asked, avoiding the question all together.

“Talk to him?” Patrick rounded on her. “What the hell about? The Red Sox? Or how about work? Or perhaps you think I should have calmly sat with him, you know, like old pals do, and discussed his kissing technique? Because I"m here to tell you, he"s got some pretty serious skills.”

By the end his outburst, Patrick was yelling loudly enough that all his neighbors now knew Brandon was a good kisser too.

She probably ought to let Patrick cool his head for a while, since he obviously wasn"t ready to talk about it. For a moment she entertained the notion of going over to Bran"s house to make sure he was okay. They could commiserate. Up until now, she"d always been careful not to talk too much about her sex life with Patrick to Brandon, since it had seemed cruel to do so. But now that they both weren"t getting any from the big, dumb lug, maybe some company and a bottle of scotch would make them both feel better.

The idea had merit. And maybe she would have done it, but her brain kept drifting back to what Patrick had said. He"d not only kissed Brandon, he"d managed to accumulate enough data to know Brandon was a good kisser.

Narrowing her eyes, Destiny stared at Patrick as he stormed past her again, still pacing. “How long did this kiss last?”

Patrick swung around to face her. “Are you insane?” A non-answer. Interesting.

“Tell me,” she demanded.

Exasperated, Patrick returned to his next furious lap around the kitchen. “I don"t know. Three, four minutes?”

Three or four minutes? Holy crap. That was a long freaking time to kiss.

Destiny studied Patrick"s face, taking in the bright flush riding high on his cheekbones and his wide eyes, the dilated pupils.

She"d assumed his agitation was because he was horrified. But she"d been wrong.

He wasn"t horrified. He was aroused.

Brandon had left him burning.

There was no stopping her imagination once the idea took hold. The image of Patrick and Brandon naked, their bodies entwined, flashed through her mind and her 19

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legs wobbled. Holy Mary, Mother of God. What could possibly be hotter than the two most beautiful men she knew loving each other?

Wait! She knew exactly what would be even hotter.

Being there with them. Both of them. Watching. Joining.

With an undignified thud, her butt landed in the kitchen chair behind her. Her skin prickled, seared by the heat of a sudden, powerful longing. God, she could see them together. Broad shoulders, deep chests, slim hips, strong legs. So beautiful. So hot. Her breasts tightened, the peaks chafing against her soft cotton bra. The aching need, the emptiness, forced her to cross her legs stiffly, her panties soaked with her gathering arousal. It took a desperate amount of willpower to rein in her body"s screaming demands.

“So, did you like it?” she asked, her voice far huskier than intended.

Patrick"s head snapped up so quickly, she knew the answer without being told.