The closet door creaked open, and Aimee’s face appeared in the gap. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun, reading glasses on her nose, and noise-canceling headphones around her neck. “Seriously, guys, I need to get this intro right.”
Relief flooded through me so forcefully I nearly staggered. “What the fuck, Aims? We thought you’d been kidnapped.”
She blinked, finally registering our expressions, and her face softened. “Oh. I didn’t think—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What are you doing in Rhett’s closet?” Troy asked.
“Recording.” She pushed the door open to reveal her makeshift studio. She’d brought a chair and a little table into the closet, and her laptop and mic were balanced on it. “The clothes dampen the sound, and the kittens can’t get in to interrupt.”
“You’re recording?” My brain was still catching up. “Here?”
Aimee’s cheeks flushed as she looked down at her hands. “I didn’t want to be alone at my place. Not yet. Not until they catch that sicko. But I am not going to let some asshole intimidate me out of producing my podcast, so I created a makeshift sound studio.”
Warmth spread through my chest. She was staying because she understood the risk. Because she trusted us to protect her. It was the first time she’d admitted she needed our help.
“Of course you can work here,” Troy said, the tension leaving his shoulders. “We were worried when we couldn’t find you.”
Aimee nodded, her eyes softening as they met mine. “I appreciate you making me feel safe. I know I haven’t been the easiest houseguest.”
“Are you kidding?” Troy’s ease returned. “You’re no trouble at all. Except when you leave all of the kitchen cabinets open and I hit my head.”
She laughed. “Even my ADHD medicine doesn’t stop that one from happening.”
I sat on the bed, my heart rate returning to normal. “We don’t mind at all. Oh! And we were looking for you to share the good news. Troy was promoted to lieutenant! We’ll be at different stations now, eliminating the possibility of HR violations.”
Aimee’s eyes widened, and she squealed, launching herself at Troy in a flying tackle-hug that he caught with a surprised laugh. “Lieutenant Matthews! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”
She kissed his cheek, and her arms looped around his neck for a moment before she turned and extended an arm to me, inviting me into their circle.
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I stepped into their arms, cuddling close. For a moment, we held each other, and I felt something click into place—a sense of rightness and belonging I hadn’t known I was missing.
“We should celebrate,” Aimee said when we finally broke apart.
A slow grin spread across my face as my brain immediately went to the perfect celebration. “I prepped for Troy to fuck me. Perfect for the occasion.” I gestured toward my ass with a flourish.
Aimee snorted. “What?”
“Troy accidentally activated my slut mode earlier today, and it’s not going away on it’s own.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“The longer you remain in slut mode, the greater the risk that it becomes permanent, if we don’t hurry. And it can only be deactivated by precise dick placement inside me.” I pointed to my ass again, in case there was any confusion about where I wanted the dick.
Troy’s exasperated head shake couldn’t hide his fond smile. “How do you know? You’ve never had any dick placements at all.”
I was tugging my shirt over my head, and my voice was muffled by fabric. “It’s a medical condition. Don’t tell me you’re arguing with science.” I tossed the shirt aside and beamed at them.
Aimee rolled her eyes. She was pretending to be annoyed, but I saw her gaze lingering on my bare chest. “Is it fatal?”
“Absolutely,” I said, nodding gravely as I unbuckled my belt. “Terminal horniness. Very serious. Could die any minute.” I let my jeans drop to the floor and kicked them across the room.
“Fuck, you’re impossible to resist in slut mode,” Aimee muttered, shaking her head.
I beamed at her. “That’s a known side effect.”
She burst out laughing.
“Come on… please?” I did my best puppy dog look. “I really want to be fucked.”
