Filthy Vows - Alessandra Torre Page 0,41

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—”

I held up my palm. “I don’t need a recap of every time I’ve assaulted you in public. I blame most of those on tequila.” And how incredibly hot Easton was. My fantasy partners always paled in comparison to what he could do with just one cocky tilt of his mouth.

“Most.” His hand closed tenderly around mine. “But not all.”

I didn’t respond, not when he softly kissed my cheek, then just beside my mouth, then the tip of my nose. His chest brushed against mine and I inhaled the subtle scent of his blackberries and beach cologne. “You’re trying to distract me,” I said, in the moment before his soft lips landed on mine.

“Is it working?”

“No.” I pulled away and sat on the closest padded stool. “This is serious, E.”

He sighed. “It’s not a big deal. He saw us together. You like public sex. We move on.”

“I’ve never had public sex where someone actually saw us. Not that close, and certainly not…” I pointed to my mouth and made a face as if I still had the gag in it. Our rare moments of public indecency had been the sort of quickies in public that might have been suspected but not confirmed—a blow job in the back stacks of the library, sex in the backyard in the middle of the day, a finger session on a transatlantic flight where I bit into a neck pillow to stifle my groans.

“I already told him he could stay. It’s going to be fucking awkward if I tell him he can’t now. Plus,