Asher and Brayden both look at me expectantly, Asher’s lip twitching, Brayden’s jaw working. I should tell Asher to go. Everything about Brayden’s and my relationship hinges on that. But I…don’t want to. From the looks Brayden is shooting Asher—gaze drifting before he refocuses on me—I’m not sure he does either.
“Here’s the drink list.” I hand Asher the slim cardboard menu.
Asher glances at it once then eyes Brayden’s drink. “What’re you having?”
“Club soda.”
“Yeah, one of those is fine.”
“You can—” Brayden starts, then catches himself. “Drink whatever you want.”
Asher turns to the waiter. “Club soda with lime.” The waiter nods and takes our dinner orders. I’m sure I ask for food, and I’m sure it’ll be delicious, but the only thing I can think of is the slight nudge under the table—someone’s shoes gently tapping against mine, too softly for me to tell if it’s Asher’s sneaker or Brayden’s dress shoe.Which would you prefer?I don’t have a good answer to that question. It shouldn’t even be a question at all.
Once the waiter leaves, Asher takes a piece of the complimentary bread from the basket and begins to dissect it with his fingers. “What were you reading on the plane?” he asks.
I don’t have time to answer before Brayden cuts me off. “She’s studying bioinformatics.”
“I have no idea what that is,” Asher says.
Brayden takes a triumphant swig of his club soda. “Bioinformatics is a scientific discipline that uses computer tools to analyze large sets of biological data.”
Asher’s mouth gets that tug. “Oh, obviously.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know what it was either,” Brayden admits.
“So we all agree I’m smarter than you both?” I tease.
“Yes,” Brayden says, just as Asher says, “Probably combined.”
They both look at each other, then actually laugh, Brayden like he can’t help it and Asher like his face might crack. For a long moment, everything is…nice—the glow of the low lighting in the restaurant and the talk of other diners. Like I’m on a date with both of them, somehow. Was this how Victoria felt whenshe went from zero boyfriends to three in the course of a few months? But Asher and Brayden would never be interested in that…right?
Across the table, they’ve resumed glaring at each other. That feeling returns, the one like everything is about to blow up in my face.
After a moment—and the delivery of Asher’s club soda—Brayden pushes out his chair, then rises. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He says it to Asher as if telling him to keep his hands to himself.
“You look nice,” Asher says, the second Brayden is no longer in earshot.
I preen for a moment—I know I look good in this dress—then look him up and down. “Whereas you look like you just rolled out of bed. Did you just happen to drop by coincidentally? Or are you stalking me?”
Asher shrugs. “You have your location on.”
I dig my phone out of my purse, pulling out my wallet and keys to find it. Asher plucks my keyring from the table, flipping through the large house key, the portable vial where I keep my emergency migraine meds, to the tiny, framed painting hanging from its own keychain.
“I see you got my package.” He holds up the painting. “Did you get the other thing I sent?”
The other thing.The vibrator I’d taken from the package and washed and charged but couldn’t bring myself to wear…until now. The one I haven’t been able to bring myself to turn on…yet.
My skin flushes impossibly warm. I need to cool off, so I take a gulp of water. Instead, a bead of water drips from the glass, tracing its way down my cleavage, icy cold against my overheated skin. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, what?” Asher whispers. We’re sitting too close. People are probably looking. Brayden said he’d be back in aminute, but maybe he’s watching us from around a corner, unseen.
I swallow around air, trying to come up with any words to deny that this is what I’m doing. Married to one man and wearing a toy given to me by another. A toy that’s firm and unyielding against my clit, just waiting to be turned on. I nod, hair coming loose from its style.
“Are you wearing it now?” Asher is practically growling, hands forming fists on the tabletop like he’s doing everything in his power to keep himself in control.
“Maybe,” I say, but there’s no use denying it. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
Asher eases himself back, smiling in that way I’ve only seen him do once before. He pulls out his phone, tapping a few times before repocketing it. “Do you know why I picked that particular one out for you?” he asks.
