Rushingto find Kricket in leather chaps, fishnets, pleather gloves, and a whip in her hand. Of course, the getup would be nothing without the same man from the other day being pinned up against the wall. “Hey,” Kricket says, casually. “You remember Tristan, right?”
“Yeah, my memory is too sharp to forget,” I say, trying to avoid looking at either of them.
Kricket presses her whip against Tristan’s neck, “Tristan, Tristan, Tristan,” Kricket thrashes her whip in my direction, “You are a very naughty man.”
“Uh, is everything okay in here?” Like, is Tristan in agreement to this hostile-looking situation?
“Everything is fabulous,” Kricket answers on behalf of both of them.
Tristan releases a high-pitched squeal of a laugh. “Yup, great. This isn’t what it looks like,” he adds.
“It isn’t what?” Kricket asks him, holding the popper end of the whip against his lips, then dragging it slowly down his naked chest.
Tristan swallows hard. “Sorry,” he says, his voice cracking.
“What was that?” Kricket responds.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Helga. Please, don’t hit me.”
Kricket gives him a tap with the end of her whip. I’m sure it wasn’t enough to hurt him, but his cheeks burn red. He tosses his head back against the wall, and his knees buckle a bit. “Again?” she asks him.
“No, ma’am,” he responds.
Kricket whips him with the popper again, but this time right on his junk. I clench at the sight because … just no. However, the longer I stand here in shock and horror, I notice a massive bulge rising in Tristan’s pants. “More,” he grunts.
“And, I’m going to leave you two to whatever the hell you’re doing in the living room right now.”
I run up the stairs and close myself in the bedroom, wishing I could erase everything I just saw from my head.
In fact, I climb under my covers and pull my pillow over my head, forcing myself into taking a nap. I might have slept until morning if my phone didn’t ring for the first time since Bradley responded to me last.
I glance at my phone, finding an unknown number, which isn’t at all surprising.
Unknown: Will you come to the door?
I look around the room, wondering if I should even respond. What if it’s Max, or worse? Instinct leads me to glance out the window, and there isn’t a beach fire, so that’s promising, I hope.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: For the fact that you don’t know, I’d love to tease you and ask you why you didn’t save my number in your phone, and why you deleted the text you sent me the other night when you were checking to make sure I was okay, but it’s just Noah.
Me: You’re at my door?
Unknown: I’m a creep. I know. I didn’t want to ring the bell in case your roommates are in bed.
Me: What if I was in bed?
Unknown: My mind can’t go there, Miss Ashley.
Theo’s reminding words echo in my ear. He’s my boss. I should behave.
Me: Right. I’m coming …
Unknown: ::bangs head against wall:: You’re killing me, girl.
With a little excitement rushing through me, I glance in the mirror and wipe away the mascara streaks from beneath my eyes, readjust my t-shirt and pad barefoot down the hallway toward the staircase. Kricket and Krow’s bedroom doors are both closed thankfully.
I can only hope they are, and there isn’t a BDSM party in the living room. I tiptoe down the stairs, finding the living room to be quiet, which I’m grateful for after the surprises I’ve endured this week.
