It wasn’t uncommon for us to share a woman. We’d done it since we first met in college. But the thought of touching someone else other than Olivia had my stomach churning and a resounding no pulsing through me. Trying to be casual, I gave a shrug. “No, I’m good.”
“You’re good?” he asked slowly, his brows rising into his hairline.
“Yeah, I’m just not up for it.”
“What?”
Daniel stared at me like I’d lost my mind. And why wouldn’t he? When did Alexander Kent ever turn down a good time? Damn near never, and we both knew it. I stared down at the amber liquid I swirled in the glass. Anything to avoid Daniel’s assessing stare.
“Holy. Shit.”
“What?” I asked, still not looking up.
“You’re seeing someone.” That had my gaze snapping up to his. His blue eyes sparked with victory. “The great Kent—biggest womanizer of them all—plays the field so he can have all the pussy—is seeing someone and only wants her.”
Each description he used of me grated on my nerves. “I’m not seeing anyone,” I grumbled.
“Oh, bullshit,” he called me out with ease. “Her pussy must be golden.”
“Jesus.” I downed the contents of my glass, trying not to think too hard about how Daniel was calling his niece’s pussy golden.
“Hey, maybe if she likes me too, I could join you one night to find out how golden her pussy is. I know you like them kinky.”
I slammed the empty glass down on the table. “I said I’m not seeing anyone,” I shouted.
Any teasing left Daniel’s face, and he wasn’t assessing anymore; he was back-tracking because rarely had I ever lost my temper on my best friend. “Okay, dude. Calm down.”
I turned away and ran a hand through my hair. I needed to get it together, but it was hard because he was too close to the truth. And just the mention of sharing Olivia with anyone caused a fire to roar through me. It should have been the loudest warning. I loved sharing women with Daniel. I loved sharing women. Period.
But there was no way in hell, I ever wanted anyone to touch what was mine.
Blaring alarm bells rang through my head, and I fought to swallow down the panic.
I was beginning to care about her, and the realization had a rock sinking in my stomach because it was Daniel’s fucking niece—his family. But my body rejected the mere thought of staying away. It also rejected the thought of explaining to Daniel that I had feelings for his niece. We’d come to blows only once over a woman before, and it had ended in a pact of bros before hoes. But we’d been young and determined to not let anything get between us again.
We were almost forty now. Surely, he’d understand if I was serious enough—if he knew that this no longer felt like a fling.
He would understand. I knew my friend enough to know that eventually, he’d understand. I just needed to be sure that it was more than a fling. Olivia was spending the night with another guy, and here I was having an internal panic over feelings, lashing out at my friend.
“We’ll just grab some dinner and some drinks. Talk shop,” Daniel said softly behind me. It was enough for me to portray a calm, I didn’t quite feel, and face him.
“Yeah, that sounds good. I guess I’m just stressed from the hotels and possibly opening another Voyeur.”
“It’s a lot, man. But I’m here for whatever you need.”
He always had been, and I couldn’t imagine losing that. Maybe a couple drinks were just what I needed to calm down and take my mind off Olivia.
Daniel was collecting his keys and heading to the door when I shot off one last text message. I needed to remind her whose dick made her come harder than any little boy.
Kent: Thursday night at 7pm. Room 1469.
Kent: Follow direction.
16 Olivia
My phone vibrated on the table, halting Oaklyn’s pen across the paper. My heart thumped hard like it had any time Kent’s name displayed on my screen in the last month. It’d been two weeks since he’d punished me for the whole Aaron debacle. He punished me so well, I almost wanted to try and make him mad again.
“Are you going?” she asked.
She knew I would. She just liked making me admit it. She liked making me face that I jumped whenever he called. I tried to be aloof, but her condescending smile called me out. Oaklyn spent the last couple weeks looking like she was a second away from patting me on the head and telling me my denial was cute.
“You know I am.”
“And why is that?” she asked, playing dumb.
“Probably something to do with the five orgasms a night he gives me.”
“Uh-huh. And nothing to do with the way you giggle when he calls or how happy you look the next day.”