My Boyfriend and His Friend (The Forbidden Fun)

“I’m calling the police,” my buddy mutters while looking at his phone again. It’s the fifth or sixth time he’s said that.

“No,” I grunt, also for the fifth or sixth time. “It won’t do any good. They won’t consider her missing until it’s been at least twenty-four hours—”

Chris cuts me off with another violent utterance. The man’s like a caged tiger, and I really can’t blame him because both of us are already envisioning worst-case scenarios. Anything could’ve happened to our woman. She might be hurt or lost somewhere or even worse. She could be lying in a gutter, murdered by an escaped felon. Who knows? I grip the arms of the chair with white knuckles. FML.

But I force myself to stay calm.

“Breathe,” I instruct my friend in a growl. “She’s going to walk through that door any second now, and when she does, I’m sure there will be an explanation for all this.” Of course, my words ring somewhat hollow because I’m about ready to turn this entire city upside down to find Patty as well.

But then, there’s the snick of a key in the lock, and the door opens. Sure enough, it’s our beautiful girl but she’s dressed in a trench coat she bought for her Sherlock Holmes costume last Halloween. It’s not even made of cotton canvas. Instead, it’s a fake polyester material that goes almost all the way to her feet. What the fuck?

“Patty?” we gape, our brows furrowing in confusion. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

She comes in, not meeting our eyes before putting her keys down on the tray by the door.

“Everything’s fine,” she says quickly while toeing off her shoes. There’s a scarlet tinge to her cheeks and her chin is trembling a bit. “I thought I mentioned I was going to be home late tonight.”

“Not this late,” Chris growls. He kisses her forehead before seizing her shoulders to look into those chocolate eyes. “I thought the worst had happened to you.”

She blinks rapidly, like she’s fending off tears. “No, I’m fine, and I’m sorry I’m late. I thought you two would be asleep by now. There was no need to wait up,” she murmurs. It’s a huge relief to hear her voice, and to see her in one piece, but still. What’s with the mystery? What has Patty been doing all this time?

“As if we could sleep when we’re half-crazy with worry for you,” I growl, my expression intense. “Where have you been, Patty?”

She hesitates instead of answering, and my heart sinks in my chest. Oh shit. The trench coat, the avoidance, the shadiness of this all, not to mention the smell of perfume and sweat only point to one thing, and my buddy can feel it too. Chris voices the darkest thought on my mind right now.

“Were you with another man?” he asks in a choked voice. “Is there someone else? Have you not been happy, baby?”

“What?” Patty’s eyes go wide with shock. “No. I would never ever do something like that because I love you both too much.”

Relief pushes my heart back to its original position. “But you’re dressed like a hooker meeting a client,” I point out, not mincing my words. “What’s going on?”

“I… I…” Her lip wobbles, and then the tears come in earnest. She breaks down and begins to sob, those narrow shoulders heaving.

Chris and I look at each other over her head, alarmed by the sudden deluge. He jerks his head toward the living room, and I nod. Without hesitation, I lift Patty’s curvy form into my arms and carry her to the couch before sitting down on the cushions to cradle her in my lap.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” I murmur against her hair. “It’s fine, baby. Just let us know what you’ve been doing. No judgment, Patty, because we love you too much for that.”

Our woman hiccups a bit, and then her trench coat loosens somewhat to reveal only a tiny bra and thong underneath. Of course, she’s lush and gorgeous but the tiny get-up means that this is even worse than I thought. But I make myself stay patient.

“Here, doll,” says Chris, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water. “Drink this.”

She takes the water and downs it in a couple of large gulps, and then leans against my chest before meeting our eyes.

“Thanks, Chris and Chase,” she sniffles. “I really—I don’t deserve how well you treat me.”

“Don’t say that, sweetheart,” I rumble. “You deserve this and more.” I take her hand and smile. “Now please, tell us what’s going on. Where were you? Why are you dressed like a hooker, if you’re not meeting a man?”

She nods and takes a deep breath before letting out a shuddering exhale. The sadness I see in her expression breaks my heart, and I pull her closer to me on instinct.