“Okay, so we find you an apartment and a Jewish girl. A kinky one.” Easton winked at him. “The girl, not the apartment.”
“Let me survive tonight first. With everything you did in college, you’re used to this shit. I’ll probably fill up my sexual quota after thirty minutes inside your bedroom and be set for a year.” He tilted back his head, stretching his neck. “The apartment, on the other hand—I wanted to see what you thought of me moving in with Chelsea.”
Easton coughed in the middle of his sip, and set down the bottle to pound at his chest. “Chelsea?” He swallowed, his eyes tearing, then let out another throat-clearing bark. Grabbing a tiny square napkin, he swiped at his mouth. “In her house?”
“She’s got the room. And it’d just be for a few months, until I find something to buy.”
“I don’t know…” Easton mused. “It’s just… Chelsea.”
“I know. It’s why I’m still sleeping with a small horse every night.”
“Hey, you’re the one who let Wayland in the bed. We make him sleep on the floor.”
“I’m just thinking—after tonight—it might be weird, me still living there.” Aaron glanced at him.
“It might be.” Easton shrugged. “But I told you what she said. This is a one-time thing. Just to see if she likes it.”
“Or if you do,” he pointed out. “You might deck me the minute I touch her.”
“Good point. With your glass jaw, we could fuck over your body and just wake you up at the end.”
Aaron rubbed his palm over his jaw with a wince. “Maybe I don’t have the balls to do this.”
The phone beeped again. Easton glanced at the display, read the text, then stood. “Well, find them and let’s go. It’s time to get home.”
I was in our bedroom, flat on my back on the bed, when I heard the front door open. Sitting up, I reached for the glass of champagne and took a quick, nervous sip.
Floorboards creaked and shoes sounded against the wood as they came closer. I slid to the edge of the bed and held my breath, staring at the dark corner where the door was.
This was crazy. Stupid. Really really awkward. I took another sip and gripped the black sash tighter.
There was a knock at the two. Three quick raps. Our signal. I sat up straighter and watched the door swing open, and the strong silhouette of my husband pass through. He closed the door behind him.
I smiled despite my nerves. “Hey.” He came to a stop before me and surveyed me. I fidgeted, smoothing down the lines of my dress.
“You look beautiful.” He stepped closer, cradled my face in his hands and looked down at me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nodded, my skin humming in anticipation. My fears mixing with thoughts of what was about to actually happen. Aaron was standing just outside the door. Waiting to come in. “Yes. Are you sure he’s okay with it?”
He laughed. “He’s very okay with it. Trust me. Do you want to use the blindfold?”
“Yeah.” I passed him the black satin piece and waited as he placed it over my eyes, tying it into a tight knot at the back of my head.
“Move to your knees. Spread them open.”
It was odd, the loss of my bearings. I moved to the floor and found the king-sized pillow I’d put there, my knees widening as I sat back on my heels. My dress, a midnight blue cocktail number, pooled around my knees and I ran my hands over the deep cowl neck, making sure I was fully covered. The deep sound of his chuckle came from above me. “Suddenly shy?”
I stuck my tongue out and started when his hand closed on my chin, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing across my tongue. I bit gently down and his hand tightened on my jaw.
“Naughty thing,” he chided. “I’ll punish you for that.” He pulled away his hand and I felt a chill at the exit, my body craving more of a connection. “Ready?”
I nodded, my hands fisting in the thin fabric of my dress, my nerves sharpened to an almost painful point. This was it. I was suddenly grateful for the blindfold, for the protection it seemed to give me. No uncomfortable eye contact. No interaction. I’d please and be pleased by Easton, and he would watch. Technically, I’d have plausible deniability that Aaron was ever in our room.
The click of his shoes sounded across the floor and there was the squeak of the heavy brass handle, the subtle change in the air as the door opened and a second set of footsteps sounded.
I stayed frozen in place, tracking Aaron’s journey as he moved to stand to my left, closer than I had expected. If I reached out, would I touch him? It was hard to judge the distance. Easton brushed against me and I reached out, feeling my way up his jeans. He undid his belt and our hands touched as he dragged the zipper down. “Take it out.”