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  After the experience was over, both men withdrew, then Declan dressed quickly. I knew it was so he could leave and give August and me some alone time. Declan gave me a sweet kiss on my cheek and told me I was amazing before disappearing.

  His words didn’t mean anything to me. I’m sure he says that to every woman he’s with.

  August and I took our time getting dressed, but the only words he spoke were to ask, “Are you okay?”

  I managed a smile. “Never better.”

  Now, I watch the bright lights of the city recede as we make our way into the suburbs where August lives. We pull into his driveway, right into the garage. As the garage door starts rumbling down, I make a move to open my door, but I’m stopped when August reaches out and puts a hand on my thigh.

  I shift in the seat toward him with my eyebrows raised.

  “I’m going to ask you once again—how are you feeling?”

  I shrug. “The pleasure was incredible, but I’m still processing. That was something I never in a million years I thought I would do. Never thought the father of my child would ask me to do it, either.”

  “Feeling guilty?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

  Moving his hand from my leg to the nape of my neck, he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay to act on your fantasies, Leighton. I’m sure you’ve had moments in your sexual experiences where you’ve wondered what that would be like… taking it to the next level. That’s what’s so great about The Wicked Horse… everyone in there wants the same thing, and there is never any judgement. It’s all about savoring the experiences, and I’m glad you got a chance to finally act on those things.”

  That makes me pause. Mulling over his words, I move my gaze to his. “You know, I’ve never actually had fantasies like that before. At least not until that first night you took me to the club. I guess that was enough to open me up, though.”

  August’s chin pulls inward, surprise clear in his expression. “You’ve never had sexual fantasies before? Not even with other partners?”

  I nibble on my lower lip, wondering how lame this is going to make me sound. “I’ve never been with anyone other than you,” I say bluntly. “Well, unless you count Declan. He’s technically only the second sexual partner I’ve ever had.”

  August’s hand falls from my neck, and he reels backward in his seat. “What? Never?”

  It’s clear I’ve thrown him for a loop. My voice is dry, my tone flat. “Well, being in hiding isn’t exactly conducive to relationships. Besides, I was pregnant, then I was a single mom running for my life. I’ve spent years looking over my shoulder at anyone who seemed to study me a little too long or with too much interest. Makes it hard for someone to approach me since I’m always running in the opposite direction because I’m scared. Naturally, I haven’t been with anyone else. How could I?”

  August’s mouth falls open. “Ten years without sex?”

  I don’t like the judgment in his tone. As if there is something wrong with me for not dating. For not having sex.

  “I guess I’m making up for it, right?” I snap. “Thanks for the lessons. And thank your buddy for me, too.”

  I pull hard at the door to open it up. Before I can step out, August is pulling me back in. His hands go to my face and he forces my eyes to his, leaning in toward me so our mouths are close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so censuring. I just assumed—”

  “What? That I got over you and moved on the way you did? Sorry, but that didn’t happen for me.”

  When I pull away, he doesn’t resist, letting me go.

  Which is for the best.

  CHAPTER 17

  August

  It’s been five days since the threesome with Leighton and Declan and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Or rather, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Leighton.

  The whole experience was amazing. It wasn’t my first threesome, but it could potentially be my last. I’m not sure I could ever top that. Watching Leighton completely unravel and give over to the pleasure while having four seismic orgasms because she let herself be free.

  But moreover, I’m not sure I can return to that situation again because of the massive amount of guilt pressing down on me.

  Leighton wasn’t ready. I pushed her to take a step that was far beyond her abilities.

  Honest to fuck, had I known she’d had no sexual experience beyond what we had together when we were teenagers, I never would have brought her into The Wicked Horse at all.

  While the sex we’d had when we were young was good—because we were young and everything about sex was good—we weren’t overly experimental. I don’t think anyone at that age is. Our sex was sweet and vanilla because we were in love. There were a few times Leighton would tentatively stroke my cock with her hand or I would finger her not knowing what I was doing, but, for the most part, neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing.

  And then I just pushed her right into another man’s arms. She sucked a man’s cock for the first time—and it wasn’t mine. Declan has had something from Leighton that I’ve never had.

  It burns. Bad.

  Knowing the only other sexual partner she’s had was Declan twists my gut. Had I not pushed her into it, I would have remained her sole sexual experience. I fucked up the purity of what we had… and fuck if that doesn’t grate. I had just assumed she had been sexually active all these years. Now that I know different, there’s no single reason why I should be feeling so proprietary over the sanctity of our memories.

  It’s not like we are together. Hell, it’s not like we’re even monogamous. Technically, I can go to the club and fuck whoever I want whenever I want, and there wouldn’t be a thing wrong with it since Leighton and I have made no commitments to each other.

  And yet, I think there’s something to be said for the fact I’m not at The Wicked Horse right now. Instead, I’m sitting in my driveway pondering how the fuck I can get up the courage to go inside my house and talk to her.

  We’ve not seen each other much since our last night together. She spent the next two evenings at the hospital with Sam, then I had the two evenings after that. Our meetings when we changed shifts and our run-ins at the house were brief and awkward.

  We’ve had no opportunity to discuss anything further, so I have no idea whether she’s content with the decisions she made or if she’s swimming in a pool of self-flagellation for participating in something she didn’t feel comfortable with.

  That compounds the guilt pressing down on me.

  But even if what I’m feeling right now doesn’t have a shred of fucking rationality, there’s one thing I can’t seem to move past.

  Her last words to me in the car after we’d returned from the club. “What? That I got over you and moved on the way you did? Sorry, but that didn’t happen for me.”

  How do I even begin to accept Leighton never got over me? While I spent the early years mired down in hell, wondering what happened to her, I eventually had to move on for my sanity’s sake. What does it say about me that Leighton never did?

  “Fuck it,” I mutter as I get out of my car, hurrying through the garage into the mudroom.

  The house is silent, the lights off in the kitchen and living room with only a single lamp in the foyer providing enough glow so I can see where I’m walking.

  I make my way down the hall to Leighton’s room on light feet in case she’s sleeping. Mike’s on night duty with Sam, so we’re alone.

  Light spills out from underneath her door, so I don’t hesitate in knocking softly on it.

  “Come in,” she calls. When I push the door open, my heart gives a tiny lurch.

  Leighton is in bed, reclining against the headboard with lots of pillows propped behind her shoulders and the tableside lamp glowing softly. She has a book in her hand, glasses I didn’t know she needed perched on the end of her nose. Her hair is pulled back in a barrette, away from
her face, which is scrubbed clean. She looks young and fresh.

  She also looks nerdy in a sexy way, which is a complete turn-on for some reason.

  Tilting her head, Leighton asks, “What’s up?”

  I try to analyze her tone. She seems genuinely curious about why I’m there, and it makes me wonder where she thinks I’ve been. Did she think I would be at The Wicked Horse without her? Does she even care?

  I shake my head, dispelling those thoughts. Whether I go to the club at some point in the future without Leighton is my business and mine alone.

  Granted, I have absolutely no desire to go there without her, which is only part of the complex conflicting emotions I need to reconcile within my brain.

  I find myself at a loss for words, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Did you eat dinner?”

  Leighton shoots me a look, clearly asking if I’m crazy. “Yes, I ate. It is almost ten PM.”

  “Oh,” I say as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  “Where have you been?” she asks.

  I don’t have to analyze that tone. It’s clearly laced with a bit of jealousy and censure. She thinks I was at the club.

  “I stayed late at the hospital to have dinner with Sam,” I reply, moving to the edge of the bed. “Then I went to the office for a few hours.”

  “Oh,” she murmurs, and her gaze returns to her book.

  The silence stretches, becoming slightly awkward. When I go to sit on the edge of the mattress, Leighton moves her legs to make room for me.

  “Look,” I start, not sure if this is going to come out right. “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

  Leighton’s brows furrow. “Apologize?”

  “For pushing you into that threesome,” I say with true regret. “I don’t think you were ready for it. Don’t think you’re ready for The Wicked Horse at all. It was my own selfish desires that brought you there. I feel like I ruined you or something.”

  There are a couple of reactions I expect from her. First, for her to give me a grave nod of understanding as well as an admission I’m absolutely right. It was too much, too fast. Or maybe even a swift denial, Leighton wanting to portray she’s brave and fearless and can handle anything I throw her way.

  What I don’t expect is for her to tip her head back, clutch her stomach, and start laughing hysterically.

  Quite dumbly, I gape at her. When she doesn’t stop laughing, I scowl.

  Ultimately, I have to ask, “What the fuck are you laughing about?”

  Lifting her glasses from her face, she wipes her eyes. She was actually laughing so hard that tears came out.

  What the fuck?

  Leighton shakes her head, snickering again before giving me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed when you were obviously feeling bad. But you shouldn’t. I’m okay with what happened.”

  My eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t just be saying that to alleviate my guilt, would you?”

  Adamantly, she shakes her head. “I swear. Yes, I was quite innocent and naïve when you walked me through the doors of The Wicked Horse. Never in my life had I imagined such things. But just because I hadn’t doesn’t mean I wasn’t insanely curious when the opportunities were presented. Doesn’t mean I’m not an adventurous person, August. Doesn’t mean I don’t have the emotional maturity to handle it. I’m a woman who has feared for her life, had a child alone at the age of nineteen, and who later found out said child could die from cancer. You’d be surprised at what I can handle.”

  I can do nothing but stare in amazement. She’s exactly the type of woman I always knew she would turn out to be. Courageous, fearless, genuine, and humble.

  “You’re pretty fucking amazing.”

  Leighton grins, her face flushing with pleasure before her gaze averts back to her book. She toys with the edges as she says, “I was wondering something, though…”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Her eyes drag up. Lock with mine. Her jaw sets in a determined way. “Will you ever take me back to The Wicked Horse?”

  My groin tightens at those words and everything they imply. Those weren’t one-time experiences for Leighton. She loves the hedonism as much as I do.

  And that opens up a whole new fucking world for me, because, in my heart of hearts, I still want her very much. But if we keep this at the club, I can continue to work through my insecurities and anger at Leighton for what she did to me. There’s something about keeping this relationship inside the club that allows a bit of distance to remain between us, which is reassuring.

  “We can certainly visit again,” I assure her. “And you’re okay with that type of relationship?”

  Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that a relationship.”

  This shocks me. Everything in that statement implies this would only be a mutual coming together of two people, sexually, and nothing else. I have a tough time believing she means that.

  Hell, I’m not sure if that’s what I want in the long run, but it seems safest right now.

  The one thing I do know… I cannot imagine going to the club with Leighton on my arm and letting another man touch her. Not knowing how inexperienced she is. Not knowing I could be the one to teach her everything she needs to know.

  My gut burns again when I think about the pleasure Declan handed out to her, and I vow to erase those memories from her mind and replace them with visions of me and only me.

  I stand from the bed. “Get dressed. We’re going to the club right now.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Leighton

  By some miracle, there’s a parking spot in the first row closest to the patient entrance of the Children’s Hospital. I’m grateful since I have a ton of stuff to carry up.

  I slip into the spot, jump out of the car, and head to the trunk, which I pop open with the key fob. Inside are an array of bags from my visit to the mall.

  It’s nice to have my car here in Vegas. August surprised me with it a few days ago. The man had a work buddy at Jameson who had a few days off, so he paid him to go to Denver and get my car so I could turn my rental in. He did this by secretly stealing my keys from my purse, then surprising me with my car in the driveway a day and a half later.

  I can’t figure out if this is just an overly nice and generous gesture from one friend to another, or perhaps a statement that he expects me to relocate here permanently. Maybe he’s rewarding me for the awesome sex we’ve been having—a man’s version of romantic roses, except it’s my late-model Honda. Regardless, it was nice to return the rental car and save some money.

  I rummage through packages and bags, putting one to the side that belongs to me personally. When I went shopping today, I did a very uncharacteristic thing and dipped into my precious savings to buy something nice for myself.

  Or, rather, something nice for August.

  I nudge open the bag to peek in at the sexy red lingerie I’d bought from a fairly upscale store. Never in my life have I paid that kind of money for something so small. While I admittedly like soft and lacy fabric on my body, I’ve only ever purchased my clothing at discount stores, which is all I could afford. In my past experiences, lingerie was purchased without any intention of anyone seeing it but me and only for my own enjoyment.

  Not so with what’s in this bag. It was bought with every intention of August seeing it. Hopefully driving him wild, too. In my opinion, it was worth the expenditure.

  August and I have settled into a routine this past week. We’ve managed to hit The Wicked Horse every day but one. Two of those evenings happened when my father was at the hospital with Sam. We spent several decadent hours each night trying out the various rooms. Two other occasions were during the day when my dad was covering Sam, both August and I were alternating night duties and only had days available. We took those quick opportunities when my father was at the hospital with Sam to sneak off to the club midafternoon. It was almost deserted and had a completely d
ifferent vibe. We were in The Silo for one. There was maybe a handful of people inside, mostly at the bar sipping drinks. We were in one of the glass rooms, and we kept the curtains open so people could watch us. I felt more intensely scrutinized with just those handful of people than when it had been packed—because we were the only entertainment going on worth watching.

  Heat creeps up my neck as I think about one of the sex machines August put me on. Just sat me on it like I was riding a motorcycle, except there was an opening over which my crotch was positioned and a huge dildo under it that operated on electricity. August put me on it, set it to medium intensity, and watched it work its magic on me. That all he did was sit in a chair in the corner of the room and watch me get fucked by a dildo while other people in the club watched was so damn sexy. I must be getting more confident because I didn’t even blush while screaming out my orgasm while on complete display for everyone.

  Blinking, I reorient myself, staring at the bags in my trunk. I feel a little guilty because now is not the time to be thinking about it.

  I should be thinking about the fact that today is Sam’s tenth birthday. While we were fairly confident he would be celebrating his birthday within the confines of the hospital, we weren’t quite sure how well he would be feeling, which would dictate the type of celebration we would be bringing to him. But every day that passes, Sam continues to improve. He’s had no infections or setbacks. He’s getting stronger every day.

  Which means, I’m going to be faced with a little boy who is probably bouncing off the walls. To say he’s ready to be released would be an understatement, and I’m hoping that day comes soon. My fear is that the longer he’s here, the more he’ll start to revert the other way and slide into depression.

  I grab the bags that contain his presents and decorations. August is bringing the cake, which he was having specially made by a baker who had been recommended to him. My dad also asked me to pick up a few things for Sam from him, shopping not being one of his strong suits. He’s up in the room keeping Sam company while August and I run our birthday errands.