Santa’s Pucking Hat Trick (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

22. Rachel

22

RACHEL

I t was the day of Roman’s hastily concocted PR plan, and I was scrambling a little to pull myself together. I grabbed a bagel from the counter as I balanced my phone between my ear and shoulder. I could hear my mom humming somewhere behind me, probably getting the tea ready for her own age-old morning routine. The kitchen was bright and cozy, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in small-town peace for hours—but I didn’t have hours. Roman was supposed to be here any minute.

“Is that all you’re having for breakfast, honey? Let me make you something,” Mom said, coming up behind me and sneaking a quick kiss on the side of my head.

“Sorry, Mom, but I can’t stay long,” I called over my shoulder, already moving toward the toaster. “Roman and I are heading to the children’s hospital this morning. PR stuff, you know.”

Mom peeked out from the pantry, a small smile on her lips. “Oh, that’s nice, Rach. You two are volunteering together? How sweet.”

I groaned inwardly. The way she said “you two” made it sound like this was some sort of date, not a professional obligation to save Roman’s job. “It’s not like that,” I said quickly, fumbling with the bagel as I shoved it in the toaster. “It’s just for the team. You know, rehab his image and all that.”

Just as I was about to take a bite of my hastily assembled breakfast, the kitchen door swung open and Michael strolled in, phone in hand and looking far too smug for someone who had just woken up.

“Roman? At a children’s hospital?” he snorted, grabbing a mug from the counter—coffee with plenty of cream and sugar that Mom had already prepared for him. “That guy’s idea of charity is letting someone else buy him drinks.”

“He’s really trying, Mike. He knows he messed up, and he’s serious about fixing things.”

Michael arched an eyebrow at me. “Since when did you become Roman’s personal hype-woman?”

I shot him a look. “Since he asked for help, and since it’s literally my job now to make him look good. To make all of you look good.”

Mom, never one to let an awkward moment pass, stepped back into the kitchen, holding a tea towel. “Well, I thought Roman was so sweet when we had lunch with him in town the other day.”

I nearly choked on my bagel.

Michael’s head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You had lunch with Roman?”

I held up my hands, trying to keep my cool. “It wasn’t like we planned it. He was in town, and we just ran into each other. Mom insisted we all sit down for a quick bite. A classic Paula Henning move in which I had no part.”

Michael crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “Right. And now you’re spending the morning with him, volunteering at a hospital. What’s next, Rachel? You gonna start bringing him to family dinners?”

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “It’s just PR, Michael. Besides, aren’t you two supposed to be friends? Shouldn’t you of all people know he’s not that bad?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just studied me with that annoyingly perceptive twin look, like he could see right through me. In this case, it’d be extra disastrous if he could see the truth. That I’d slept with Roman and his other two best friends, and I had no plans of giving up the pleasure of that now.

He’d probably have a heart attack if he knew of my hopes to have all three of the guys at once.

“Rachel, are you sure this is all about PR?” he asked quietly, dropping the teasing tone. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Roman lately. And some of the other guys…”

My heart skipped a beat, hearing the implied Wes and Sawyer too that he was afraid to say. Was he catching on? Did he know?

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could, the doorbell rang. Roman. Saved by the bell, literally.

“Gotta go,” I muttered, practically running out of the kitchen before Michael could ask any more questions.

I needed to swing back by the guest house to grab my purse, which I’d forgotten to carry with me to my mom’s kitchen. Roman went with me, of course, and the second we walked into the space where I’d so recently been ravished by his two best friends, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Earlier this week, I’d felt emboldened by this new sexy renaissance era I’d entered and I’d spilled the beans about my tryst with Sawyer and Wes. I could see in Roman’s face, serious and hungry as his eyes searched every inch of the space that was currently my home, that he was picturing it now. His eyes landed on the slowly wilting bouquet of flowers Wes had brought me, then trailed over to see what was clearly one of Sawyer’s shirts hanging from the post of my bed.

“Holy fuck, Rach,” Roman let out on a half sigh, half growl. “You…you weren’t kidding. You really fucked Wes and Sawyer. Together. ”

Heat flooded through me as I remembered it. A perfect erotic feast—well, perfect but for one thing. If Roman had been there too, bringing his particular flavor of dirty talk and his perfect cock and his sexy-ass tongue ring, I might have actually melted into a horny puddle on the floor.

There was no shame, though. I met Roman’s eyes as I grabbed my purse at last, pulling it firmly onto my shoulder. “Yeah, I did. Well, separately, first. But together too. And it was good.”

More like fan-fucking-tastic.

“Fuck,” Roman let out. He adjusted his stance as if to keep a potential erection at bay, which made me want to drop to my knees and blow him until he was fully hard and ready to come inside me again. He ran a hand over his hair, disturbing it a little before he fixed it back to the perfect fake-tousled look he clearly spent so much time honing in the mirror. “So…that was a real invite to join, huh? Back at the ice center?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, recalling that sexually tense moment after our come-to-Jesus meeting. “If you want in, that is. Clearly, the other guys don’t have a problem sharing. I’m not sure how you feel about the concept.”

“I’m from a big family, Rachel,” Roman told me, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. “Sharing is second nature to me.”

“Oh,” I let out. All of my sexy overconfidence seemed to whoosh out with that breath. Did he really mean it? Was my pulse racing out of anticipation for something real, or in hope of something that was still out of reach?

“We both know regular monogamy has never been my thing,” Roman explained further with a shrug that was far too casual for this conversation. “I’ll be honest—I’ve been scratching at the walls hoping for another chance to fuck you. I want to bury myself in that sweet pussy every single way you want it, baby. If that means sharing with my teammates, two of my best friends, and watching you come again and again and again…yeah, I could have a lot of fun with that.”

Oh, Jesus. I was far too wet, my clit pulsing with need. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it right now, no matter how tempting it was to call off our plans for the day and drag Roman only a few feet over to my bed.

“I…I’d like that,” I struggled to answer with a normal tone of voice. It still came out breathier than I intended, and it was almost hilarious how much of an understatement that was, but it was a fair effort. “But…not right now. We, uh, have plans.”

“Right. Rehab,” Roman joked. He adjusted the front of his pants, and I stifled my need to groan. Then, casual as ever, he waved toward the door. “After you, boss.”

Roman and I rode in my car to the hospital. He complimented Rhiannon, as he should, and then we drove together mostly in silence, though he did take the opportunity to throw a couple of compliments my way as well—he liked the way I’d worn my hair up, and the green sweater I’d picked this morning suited my skin tone.

It was kind of him, and it would have been surprising if he hadn’t been equally as pleasant that day we’d had an impromptu lunch with my mother. If I was honest, he’d been kind to me since we first slept together. Like I’d unlocked his personality after we’d scratched that itch. I found it hard for a while after that day at the photo studio to parse if he was putting on an act to try and get in my pants again, or if he’d just…warmed up to me in a genuine way. But now, it felt like I had my answer. Honestly, the latter scenario made more sense even before he’d agreed to share, no matter how badly I still wished I could see him in a negative light; he hadn’t needed to be especially kind to get me to fuck him the first time, after all. He especially had no reason to fake niceness now that I’d already confirmed my plans to get his cock inside me again.

The hospital was quiet when we arrived, peaceful rather than solemn, with plenty of children’s artwork adding color to the walls and the nurses dressed in fun patterned scrubs. We checked in with a volunteer coordinator, who led us back to a large playroom area filled with kids. A couple were in wheelchairs. A few were bald, clearly surviving through the hell of chemotherapy. One child wore a cannula in his nose, but otherwise had no visible signs of being sick.

They were all different sizes, ages, backgrounds, and they were equal in two ways: one, they were unlucky enough to be sick at a tender stage of life, and two, they absolutely adored Roman Jett.

The second we walked into the playroom and Roman let out a charming, booming hello, every kid’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was clear as Roman started to introduce himself to each of the kids, putting on a show even before the news crew showed up, that he wasn’t pretending to care. Some of the kids were hockey fans and some weren’t, but that didn’t matter. Roman made it a point to connect with each one, crouching down to their level and talking to them like they were the most important person in the room. It was like watching a whole new side of him, one I never would have guessed was there beneath the bravado and swagger.

“Hey, buddy,” Roman greeted a little boy who couldn’t have been older than six, bald and skinny from chemo but smiling brightly. He held a Halloween pencil with an eraser that was shaped like a ghost, touting it as his reward from treatment today. Roman used it as a seamless in with the kid. “Cool ghost, dude. What are you dressing up as for Halloween this year? You’ve gotta have a plan, since trick-or-treat is only a couple of weeks away.”

The boy’s eyes sparkled. “A dragon! Mom says she’s gonna paint scales on my face and everything!”

Roman grinned, giving the kid a playful fist bump. “That sounds awesome. I bet you’re gonna be the coolest dragon on the block.”

“Duh,” the kid beamed.

Roman moved on to a girl with bright red pigtails and big glasses, her thin legs propped up on a cushion. “What about you?” Roman asked. “You got your costume all picked out yet, or are you already thinking about what you’re going to ask Santa for?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Both! I’m gonna be a pirate princess. And for Christmas, I’m asking Santa for a new dollhouse. My little brother smashed the last one.”

Roman’s eyes softened as he chuckled. “A pirate princess, huh? That’s pretty badass—er, I mean, that’s so cool.”

This correction came when I hissed at him, reminding him not to swear. The whole room of kids giggled at his slipup, though, and even the nurses who were supervising the scene thought it was funny. The news team talked about cutting that part into their B-roll.

“Sorry about your brother smashing your dollhouse,” Roman expressed with genuine sympathy. “My brother Ryder did that once or twice, but I helped my sister Ava get it all fixed up.”

“Mine is too smashed to fix,” the girl lamented.

“Well, I’ll bet Santa’s gonna come through for you, no problem.”

I hadn’t expected to learn more about Roman’s own family as I watched this adorableness play out. Somehow, just hearing that he had younger siblings, the clear fondness in his voice as he recalled the story, had my heart squeezing. I watched as he continued to talk to each child, his voice gentle, his demeanor patient. It wasn’t just a show for the cameras—there was something deeply genuine in the way he interacted with them, and he even seemed annoyed when he got pulled away for an interview with a reporter from the Mistletoe Tribune. The second he was done, he was back with the kids, rallying them into a game with rules he was making up on the spot.

I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised he was a natural, since the hospital had been his idea. Besides, in a lot of ways, Roman acted like a big kid himself. But it still caught me off guard how easily he shifted from too-cool-for-school Roman Jett to a sexy Mr. Rogers.

Well, the sexy part was just my own editorializing. But there was one tween girl in the playroom who looked at him with stars in her eyes, so at least I wasn’t alone in my swooning for once.

“You’re really great with them,” I found myself saying close to Roman’s ear when we had a quiet moment. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Roman shrugged, giving me a half smile. “Big family. I’ve got five younger siblings, so I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Five?” I repeated, astonished. “Jeez, that is a lot. Must have been chaotic.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed.

Something in the way he said it—casual, but with an undercurrent of something more, his face more serious all of a sudden—made me pause. I wanted more information, and it was blatant fishing that had me going on, “You must’ve been a pretty busy older brother.”

He laughed, but there was something dry and tired in the sound. “Yeah, you could say that. My parents weren’t exactly around a lot, so…I kind of stepped in when they couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.” He looked away, watching the kids through the window since we’d found our way out into the hallway. His jaw tightened, and I could tell he was trying to keep his cool. “It happens when there’s a big age gap. I’m about a decade older than the oldest of the kids. Different dad, y’know. So other than hockey practice, I spent a lot of time babysitting when I was a teenager.”

It hit me like a punch in the gut. Roman hadn’t just been a big brother—he’d been a stand-in parent to his younger siblings when he was just a kid himself. And while I’d had the luxury of growing up in a stable, loving family where I got to just be a kid, Roman hadn’t. He’d had to grow up too fast, take on responsibilities that weren’t supposed to be his. No wonder he acted out sometimes. The way he lived now, the recklessness, the impulsivity—it was probably the first real freedom he’d ever had.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “That must’ve been really hard.”

He shrugged again, but this time, it felt more like a defense mechanism. “It is what it is. I love my siblings, you know? Wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

I could see that he meant it. Beneath all of Roman’s rough edges, there was this deep well of loyalty, of love, even if he didn’t always show it in the ways you’d expect. It made me admire him even more, and if I was honest with myself, there was a little sensation of falling in the pit of my stomach. Sweeter than the lust he’d inspired before. I didn’t want to think about what it meant.

We finished up at the hospital, taking a few obligatory pictures with the kids and some of the staff and wrapping up details with the news crew, before heading back to the car. Roman was quiet for a while, his usual playful energy dimmed slightly. Tired, I guessed. Maybe thinking back on his childhood the way I’d been all afternoon.

As we drove back toward town, he suddenly broke the silence. “Hey, tomorrow night you should come hang out. With all of us—all the guys,” he clarified. I couldn’t look at him as I drove, but I could feel the nervousness he was emitting into Rhiannon’s cab anyway. “Me, Sawyer, Wes, Mike…we all usually grab drinks at the Rowdy Reindeer after a game. But Michael’s got plans with his girl tomorrow, so…it’ll just be us.”

The way he said it, so casual yet laced with suggestion, sent a shiver down my spine. I could hear the invitation in his voice—this wasn’t just about drinks. Not with the way he looked at me, not with the way he emphasized that Michael wouldn’t be there. This was a fulfillment of the prospect we’d hinted at earlier in the guest house.

My pulse quickened at the thought of spending the evening with all three of them, a wave of anticipation and desire flooding through me. I could already picture it—Roman, Sawyer, and Wes, all together, all mine. The idea made my heart race, and before I could overthink it, I nodded.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d love that.”

We were stopped at a light now, so I could finally look at him. Roman grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Good. It’s a date.”