“Cleaning up at blackjack.” He jerked his head toward the table games and I abandoned my act at the news that we were alone.

“Good.” I pushed my left sleeve up over my elbow, then the right. “I need to tell you something but I don’t want you to freak out or get weird about it.”

He eyed me warily. “Okay.”

“Last night, when you and I were in the living room—” I paused. “Aaron…” I took a deep breath. “I think Aaron was on the balcony.”

The millennial groaned, yanked her card out of the machine and stood to leave. I took the excuse to look away from Easton.

“He told me.”

The three words brought me back. “Aaron told you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a wry smile. “I was actually struggling with how to tell you.” He chuckled. “So, look—problem solved.”

No, the problem wasn’t solved. Not at all. I moved closer to him and lowered my voice, conscious of the fact that we were in a very public place. “So he told you that he watched us? Watched you… gag and fuck me?”

“Well, I’m not sure that watched us was the word he used. But that he saw us, yeah.”

“And?” I watched his face for tells. His features were relaxed, his eyes amused, and I didn’t see any of the stress that was pinching my shoulder blades with an iron grip. Even the massage hadn’t helped, though the man had been given an extra ten bucks in his tip for trying really, really hard.

He shrugged. “And what?”

I blew out an irritated breath. “This is a big deal, Easton. He could have moved down the balcony and gone into your room, but he didn’t.” I could have pulled out the gag and told you, but I didn’t. I almost said it, almost put the spotlight on me just to knock that relaxed smirk off his face.

“You’re right.” His face sobered and he moved closer. “I’m sorry. He was drunk and the door to our bedroom was locked. But still, he could have banged on the window. I’ll have him apologize to you.”

“What? No. NO. Don’t have him do that.” I shook my head emphatically and added my hands into the mix, my alarm causing my voice to pitch at an unreasonably high level.

“Okay…” he said slowly. “I’m confused. What do you want me to do?”

“I want….” I faltered, unsure. I wanted to be honest with him. I wanted things to be open and forthright between us. I didn’t really want him to know that I harbored secret fantasies of an Easton and Aaron sandwich, but was suddenly terrified of the idea of him coming to live with us. What if I couldn’t handle it? What if I was gasping against the kitchen counter, my hand deep in my panties, mid-fantasy, and Aaron caught me?

I’m not responsible for the things that happen in my own home. It was supposed to be my safe haven. My erogenous zone. I was an addict, and putting Aaron in our house was paramount to stocking an alcoholic’s cupboards with Grey Goose. I might dust around those bottles for a week or so, but I’d be chugging from the bottle in a vomit-covered T-shirt before long.

I would. And if he was standing there, watching us last night … maybe he would too.

I clutched at Easton’s arm and tried to find the right words. “I don’t know if I want him to stay with us.”

“What?” He stepped back enough to properly focus on my face. “Because of last night? Elle, we were all so drunk last night, I don’t think he even remembers what he saw. You can’t—” he inhaled. “Elle.”

“It’s not just that he saw us. It’s that I liked it.” There. It was there, I said it, and I watched it like a burning fuse, bracing myself for the resulting explosion.

“You liked what?” He understood, he had to understand, yet he played dumb, his handsome features scrunching in thought as if I’d just fed him an algebraic equation.

“Don’t be dense.” I crossed my arms and gave him an annoyed glare. “I knew he was watching us fuck and I liked it.”

“Umm…” The blue-haired girl cleared her throat and I turned to find her right behind me, one black fingernail pointed toward her slot machine. “I left my drink there.”

I moved to one side and watched as she eased by us and picked up her clear cup. “Freaks,” she muttered.

Easton waited as she ambled away at the slowest pace possible, sucking loudly on her straw. He followed her movement, then flicked those baby blue eyes back to me.

He was aroused. He was trying to hide it, but it was telegraphed in the hungry way he moved closer, the strong pinch of his forehead, the way he attempted to compose himself before he spoke. “And that’s why you don’t want to let him live with us? Your voyeuristic tendencies aren’t exactly a surprise, Elle. After all…” he checked the area for more ears. “Remember—”

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