Destiny Calls

by Samantha Wayland

  “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. It was all she could do not to squirm in her chair.

  To his credit, he didn"t lie. To his discredit, he did play dumb. “Did I like what?

  Making Brandon feel like shit? No. No, I didn"t like it.” She rolled her eyes the moment he looked away. It was a good try. “Patrick, did you like kissing Brandon?” she asked in a voice that told him she wasn"t letting it go.

  The expression on his face answered the question a thousand ways without words.

  “You"re insane.”

  “Did you get an erection?”

  He stopped mid-stride, his back to her, his hands clenched at his sides. “Yes. But that"s to be expected.”

  “It is?” she asked, trying hard not to smile. She could hear the ridiculous explanation coming a mile away.

  “Sure. Men are simple. Kissing means an erection.” She couldn"t hold back her laughter. “You don"t honestly believe that, do you?” The look he shot her told her he was going to be stubborn about it. She didn"t care.

  “Patrick McLoughlin Brown, if you"d kissed that big ugly guy, would you have gotten an erection?”

  For a moment, Patrick just stood there, his face reddening as he thought about her question. She could see his struggle. He so badly wanted to tell her yes, to tell himself that it was true. But he couldn"t. Patrick had plenty of bad habits, but lying wasn"t one of them.

  She sat watching him, her heart filled with compassion, her body humming with desire. His face was a mask of confusion and shock.

  “You liked kissing Brandon.” It was a statement. The question had been asked and answered.

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  He closed his eyes again, as if to ward off the truth of her words. Ultimately, though, he couldn"t deny it. “Fuck, yes, I liked it. Wouldn"t you?” Just hearing him admit it was enough to set her heart rate through the roof. If she let her mind form images, she"d be lost again. “Yes. Yes, I would. I"ve often wondered what it would be like.”

  “It"s fucking amazing,” he said, both resigned and perplexed. He opened his eyes and looked at her oddly. “Why the fuck isn"t this freaking you out?”

  “Why should it?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  “Because I"m straight. Hell, I"ve been your lover for years.”

  “So? Being my lover doesn"t mean you"re straight.”

  “It doesn"t mean I"m gay.”

  She laughed again. For a wonderful, brilliant man, he could be as dense as a brick.

  “Are those the only options? Gay or straight? Is it a black or white thing with you?”

  “I thought so.” The confusion in his voice tugged at her.

  “Maybe you ought to think about it, Patrick,” she suggested gently. “You and Brandon go way back. Maybe there"s something there.” He was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I don"t want Brandon. I can"t.”

  “You don"t have to make any decisions tonight. Just think about it.”

  “No, damn it. This is going to screw up everything.” He tugged his hair with frustration.

  “What would it screw up?”

  “You. Me. Us. Damn it. I have spent the better part of the past year actively fighting the urge to throw you down on any available surface and fuck you senseless. I want you so badly it hurts and now you think I"m wandering around with a hard-on for Brandon.”


  She thought about reminding him that he was wandering around with a hard-on for Brandon. Considered telling him that wanting her didn"t mean he couldn"t think about the thing with Brandon. She really wanted to reiterate that he should consider his options and that Brandon was a wonderful man and worth some risks. But her raging hormones won the battle for supremacy over her brain and her good intentions.

  “Well, why the hell have you been doing that?” she asked, exasperated.

  “What? Wanting you?”

  “No, you idiot. Why the hell have you been fighting the urge to fuck me senseless?” Once again, Patrick found himself at a loss for words. It was happening to him a lot tonight. Stepping back, he told himself to breathe and think. Maybe this would be the night that would go down in his personal history as the one where he fucked up all his oldest friendships. It sure seemed like it was heading that way fast.

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  It was a sobering thought.

  Steadied, he attempted to explain himself to Destiny without overplaying his hand.

  “I"ve been trying to give you space. You and Andrew were together for a while and, you know, I didn"t want to leap on you and have you think that I didn"t…I don"t know…respect that.”

  He thought he should be insulted when Destiny burst into laughter, but mostly he was relieved. His lips twitched in response, the barest of smiles—something he hadn"t thought possible at this late stage in the night from hell. The giant knot that had settled in his belly unraveled a little as he looked down at Destiny"s smiling face.

  Even when she was laughing at him, she was so damn lovely. When she rocked back, he watched her thick blonde hair cascade over her shoulder, the ends curling around her arms and the back of the chair. He dreamed about wrapping it around his fist, pulling her head back and sucking on all the sensitive spots on her neck that he knew so well.

  “I"m glad I amuse you, Kitten,” he said, his voice rough with need.

  At the sound of his private nickname for her, the one he only used when they were lovers, Destiny stopped laughing and focused those huge, whiskey-brown eyes on him.

  His heart started knocking against his ribs, the blood barreling south and flooding into his already rigid cock. He could spend hours getting lost in her eyes.

  “You do amuse me, Patrick. You always have. In this case, though, I also find you sweet, which is a far rarer occurrence.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “Patrick, I told you, Andrew and I have been over for almost a year. He"s just my roommate.”

  “I know what you told me, but you"re still living with him, for Christ"s sake. What am I supposed to do?” He hadn"t meant to sound so ticked off, but all the nights he"d lain alone in his bed, wishing Destiny was there with him, weighed heavily.

  Destiny covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled. “I"m such an idiot! I can"t believe I"ve been lying awake at night, taking care of my own needs, when you"ve been holding back.”

  The image of her pleasuring herself distracted him. He pictured the times he"d laid beside her and watched her do just that. God, he loved how her face glowed as her need mounted. He wanted to see that again. Soon. Like now. But before he could do anything about it, and boy did he have some ideas in that department, she dropped her hands and looked up at him.

  “I thought you didn"t want me anymore.” Her voice was soft. Hurt.

  Damn. He was the idiot. “Kitten, how could you possibly think that? You"re the sexiest woman I"ve ever known. I"ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.” For a shocking moment, Brandon"s image flashed through his mind, but he slammed the door on his errant conscience. He"d think about that another time. Right 22

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  now, he wanted to focus on the only other person on earth who knew all his secrets—

  knew everything about him, inside and out.

  “God, Patrick. I want you too. I always do.” He could barely hear her over the pounding of his heart.

  Her eyes, dark with arousal, met his. “I"m glad,” he said. His voice was rough. It was hard to talk when all he wanted was snatch her up out of her chair and press every inch of her body to his.

  And why the fuck am I not doing just that?

  He crossed the kitchen in three strides, her fingers spearing into his hair, their lips meeting before his knees had even hit the cool wood floor in front of her chair. His hands grasped her hips and hauled her against him.

  No one had ever tasted like Destiny. No one kissed with so much abandon. So much passion. Their tongues warred, their noses rubbing as she changed the angle again and again, driving the action with her hands, her lips, her legs where they wrapped around his waist. For the second time that night, he lost himself in the simple pleasure of a kiss. His fingers clenched into her soft flesh, her skirt bunched beneath his hands, begging him to pull it up to her waist and reveal the secrets it hid from his view.

  But he couldn"t. Not yet. All he could do now was kiss her back.

  When she tore her mouth away, he growled, long and low. She pressed her palms to his cheeks to keep him from diving back in.

  “Wait!” She gasped, breathless. He felt a bone-deep satisfaction that she wasn"t any more immune to the explosive chemistry between them than he was. “We can"t do this.

  I can"t do this!”

  His heart plummeted while still pounding out the beat of his arousal. “Why not, Des?”

  She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, clearly trying to stay in control. “I want you more than I can say. God, I want you in me so much, Patrick. But I won"t be a surrogate for whatever is happening between you and Bran. It wouldn"t be fair to any of us.” She opened her eyes and looked directly into his. “And I"m definitely not going to be the means by which you prove to yourself you"re straight. You need to think about what happened tonight. About Brandon.”

  He wanted to protest. To rail and beg and do whatever it took to convince Destiny that she was never going to be anyone"s surrogate in this mind or his heart. But then, he couldn"t deny how thinking about the thing with Brandon was making his need greater, his cock harder. He knew he wasn"t misplacing his passion. He knew that without question. And he needed her to know that, too.

  Sighing, he leaned back, pulling his aching body away from hers. “You"re right, Kitten, that wouldn"t be fair. I won"t lie, I"ve been riding this fucking erection for hours and Brandon started it, but I swear to you I"m not trying to prove anything. I just want to be with you. You. If tonight had never happened, I would have wanted to be with you.”

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  “I want to believe you. Hell, I do believe you,” she said, unwinding her legs from around his ribs and rising to her feet, the chair scraping back over the old plank floor.

  He saw how her knees shook and knew she was hurting as much as he was. “But I think it"s better if I go home.”

  Damn.

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her legs and plead with her to stay. Wanted to bury his face in her soft belly and hide from what he"d done. Wanted to thrust his cock in her warm, welcoming heat and forget the night had ever happened.

  Which meant she was right. She had to go home.

  Tilting his face up, he attempted a smile as she bent to kiss his cheek.

  He was still kneeling on the kitchen floor, his hands clenched in fists of frustrated need, when he heard the front door quietly close behind her.

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  Chapter Three

  Patrick knew he was a complete jerk. He couldn"t even pretend otherwise, but goddamn it, he couldn"t seem to stop.

  He and Brandon worked in the same building, for Christ"s sake, and Patrick had now managed to successfully avoid his best friend for three days. And the worst part of it was, there was no way Brandon didn"t know it, since in all the years of being in the same precinct, they"d never gone three days without at least bumping into each other.

  Th
eir world at work just wasn"t that large. And since they normally made a point of checking in, maybe grabbing lunch on days they were both in-house midday, it wasn"t like the lack of contact was anything short of glaring.

  Guilt ate at him. He felt like a heel. But he couldn"t seem to get up the guts to go see Bran. And all because of that stupid fucking kiss.

  Destiny had been trying for the better part of the last three days to get him to talk about it. Destiny, who he could barely keep his hands off, who he lay in bed dreaming about, fucking his own fist with so much abandon he was sure the neighbors heard him shout her name.

  But then he couldn"t stop thinking about Bran, either. And why the hell was that?

  Just knowing Destiny was available was usually enough to delete everyone else from his mind. In the past it had always been that when he was with Destiny, he was with Destiny. He wasn"t thinking about anyone but her.

  That he couldn"t stop thinking about Bran was definitely unsettling. To say the least. And it wasn"t as through Destiny wasn"t in his thoughts, too, and often at the same time. In fact, more often than not, they were both there. Their friendship, their laughter, their bodies, their mouths meeting and fusing and hands reaching out to touch one another while he watched… shit.

  He slammed the door on his wandering thoughts. He couldn"t go ten minutes without thinking about one or both of them. Hell, he was used to having endless fantasies about Destiny. After all these years, it was second nature for him to conjure her image and the memory of countless sexy moments, some wild, some sweet—all wonderful. That Brandon was getting equal air time, coupled with the fact that he couldn"t begin to fathom how this was happening—how at age thirty-three he could suddenly find himself fiercely sexually attracted to his own best friend—was freaking him out.

  Equally horrifying was that he was almost certain Destiny knew what was happening to him. She sure as hell kept bringing it up right when it was foremost in his mind, like she could tell he was thinking about Brandon and that damn kiss again. He"d managed to dodge her questions, but he wasn"t kidding himself. He was going to have 25