“I think this is a dream,” I whispered to Patrick.
“Or is it the whiskey?” he asked.
“If you’re too shy—”
Before I could finish the sentence, his coat was on the ground and his buttons were flying, his doing, not mine, though I would have, if given the chance. “Like I’m ever going to pass up the chance to love f**k with you, especially in your dreams.”
“Ditto.”
“You’re okay, though.” Patrick took my hand. “I want to make sure you feel safe.”
“With you, always. With Jefferson and Daniel, Calvin, whatever his name is? Yes.”
The four of us soon stood before one another naked and hard. Dappled light from an array of taper candles and lanterns that had me thinking of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow hit the sweat on Daniel’s smooth torso in a way that gave him a beautiful, ethereal glow and had drople
