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"Naughty!" Marcus gasps with a wicked smirk. "At work of all places, Leo. So dirty." I purse my lips, trying to hold back my own smirk when he tsks at me for checking him out. Nobody can blame me either; he has women and men ogling his toned, tanned body everywhere he goes. Short black hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and a shit-eating grin. The world never stood a chance against my boyfriend.
I narrow my eyes, gearing up to sass him back, yet I'm robbed of my comeback when one of my baristas places my order in front of me. "Here you go, Mr. Lewis." The cheery voice and ponytail of blonde hair that slap me across the face is enough to make me lean away.
The obvious caress on my forearm has Marcus snapping to attention. "Thanks, that will be all." With a huff and an irritated glance at the imposing man opposite me, Candice flaunts her way back behind the espresso bar. "Ugh, she couldn't even be classy about it. You were obviously uncomfortable. I hate how people ignore—"
"Marcus, it's okay. Thank you for shooing her away, though." Soothing him while trying to get my thundering heart under control is tough, but I'm thankful he picked up on how I was feeling.
"Yeah, I don't appreciate how all these sorority and frat boys drool all over you when you come in." Same, but that's what being the owner is good for; I don't have to be here unless absolutely necessary.
I truly cannot hold my snort in, causing my iced coffee to bubble out my nose. Wincing at the sting, I wipe away my mess. "That's rich! I swear, babe, you have hordes of people tripping over themselves whenever you walk by."
"Fine, I'll trip them into the puddle of drool that follows you around. Deal?"
"Deal." I reach for a kiss across the table, my heart fluttering when Marc meets me halfway. Just as my back hits the cushion behind me, the door alerts my staff about the arrival of new customers. It's the twin set of giggles that draws my undivided attention, though.
Both of our heads twist to the woman walking through the coffee shop with a little girl skipping up to the display of pastries at the same time. The little blonde can't stop bouncing around, an aura of happiness radiating from her almost four-foot height.
The woman, though.I have never seen a more beautiful smile in my entire fucking life.Cherry red lips, high cheekbones, and the grin she aims at the little one is so wide I can't help but mimic it with my own. My lips curl, wanting to smile right along with this breathtaking human whose focus never diverts from the bouncing little girl.
"Mommy, look!"
My throat closes, and my chest heats like the weight of a warm blanket is wrapped around me. I can't take my eyes off the little ball of joy pointing at all the treats in the case. I hardly hear the strangled noise Marcus makes when the copper-haired beauty bends to get a better look at all the treats.
"Who's that?" His gravelly voice does not help the liquid fire racing through my veins. "Leo?"
"Wha—" A cough splitters out. "What?"
His eyes are still locked on the matching duo waiting at the pick-up counter. "Have they ever been in here before?"
"No. I’ve never seen them before."
I cannot describe the sense of relief that rushes through my system when they take a seat in the corner to enjoy their goodies. Clearing my throat, I drag my gaze away from the little one munching on her croissant.
Why do I suddenly feel so protective of those two? I would do anything to keep them smiling and happy.Are they alone?
God, I sound like a creep.
"What was that?" I hiss at Marcus once his attention is back on me.
Eyes wide, he shakes his head as if to clear it. "I don't know, babe. Should we introduce ourselves?"
My heart fucking stutters in my chest.Is this really happening?
Years ago, we agreed we would only open our relationship to another who spoke to us on a molecular level. We love each other. Marc is my best friend and every dream I can think of. Yet, we choose to keep communication open. As bisexual men, it's hard to fulfill everything you could ever want. We both desire someone to hold between us that might offer something the other couldn't.
He is mine. I am his.
We just have more love to give and receive, and that's okay.
The first woman we have ever thought about this way comes with the cutest little girl—I’m not mad about it whatsoever.
The sound of a chair scraping on the tiles has me shooting to my feet and scrambling to keep up with Marcus. I don't know whether I want to stop him, censor him, or beat him to the chase.
Marc's long strides make their way to their table of crumbs and laughter, only for it to fall silent when he's within a few feet. The woman's back goes ramrod straight when she spots us. The little girl shifts towards her mom, a small tremor working its way through her tiny arms.
I frown. I've never had kids react like that to us. They are usually so excited to meet new people.
I catch the hesitation in Marc's step, but he continues and rounds the table so he's not crowding the little one who moved between the woman and us.
