“Is that how you describe us?” Slade asked, glaring up at Carson.
“Yep. You two boys have fun.”
“Wh—”
Carson cut Slade off, leaning in and pressing his lips close to Slade’s ear. “It makes me so fuckin’ hard to see you with this guy.”
He felt Slade’s sharp inhale.
“I wanna watch you pick him up in this bar.”
Carson pulled back so he could look into Slade’s eyes, eager to see his reaction. His confusion was evident, but if Carson wasn’t mistaken, there was also a hint of intrigue there.
He leaned in again. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Promise.” Carson stood tall and leaned forward to look at Phillip. “It was nice to meet you, Phillip. You two have fun.”
Slade frowned, staring after him as he moved farther down the bar.
That night, after watching Phillip cozy up to Slade, Carson realized his voyeurism fetish had taken on a whole new appearance. He didn’t merely want to watch others. He wanted to watch Slade with other men.
Honestly, he wasn’t sure why Slade was so surprised. After all, he was the one who’d given Carson the idea when Slade told him the sordid tales of his ex-wife doing the same thing to him. Evidently, Jennifer had some kinks of her own, and she’d gone far enough to expose Slade’s bisexuality by setting him up in various situations. Slade had even admitted he enjoyed it.
Carson wasn’t above admitting he had exploited it. For several months, they’d engaged in some rather interesting encounters, all of which involved Slade fucking some random stranger while Carson watched. It was all on the up and up, of course. The few men who had declined Carson’s presence hadn’t had the pleasure of Slade’s body.
As he was prone to do, Carson had expected too much. The next thing he knew, he’d pushed Slade to his breaking point, and Carson hadn’t seen another way to make things work, so he’d pretended he didn’t give a shit about Slade. Not for anything more than a good time.
The truth was, he’d developed feelings for Slade, but he’d allowed that gut-crippling jealousy to take root and fuel him. He’d thrived on it, like the fucking cuckold that he was. He never considered that Slade wouldn’t understand. And since he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, things had gone to shit around him.
And here he was.
Carson did not want the same thing to happen with Atticus. Yeah, he had taunted Slade that morning, but it was habit. He got off on pushing Slade’s buttons, watching his reaction. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself. He knew Slade was still attracted to him. What he hadn’t realized until today was that Slade was interested in Atticus. But he saw the way Slade watched Atticus earlier when they’d been outside that place where JJ had been held. The kicker was Carson was pretty sure Atticus had eyes for Slade, too.
His gut twisted at the thought, and his cock hardened. For whatever reason, his jealousy was somehow tied directly to his arousal. Always had been. And he’d never felt anything quite as powerful as the thought of Slade and Atticus together. He wanted to watch them. He wanted it so bad he could practically taste it.
The door opened, and Carson held his breath.
***
Slade did not want to go toMoonshiners.
That was what was on repeat in his head as he showered, dressed, got in his truck, drove into town, parked in the bar’s half-full parking lot.
He did not want to go inside.
Did not want to see Atticus and Carson together.
Did not want to cause a fight because he had this overwhelming urge to convince Atticus to go home with him instead.
How had this happened?
Slade got out of his truck and pocketed his keys and cell phone, his feet moving without permission from his brain. Although he didn’t want to be here, the thought of Atticus going home with Carson without Slade at least making some sort of argument against it was worse. Not that he would say anything. He wanted to. God, he fucking wanted to, but it wasn’t his place to interfere. No matter how much he wished he could protect Atticus from Carson’s taboo desires.
Sure, that was what it was. He was looking out for Atticus, wanting to ensure the man didn’t get caught up in the game like Slade had.
Right.
Because Slade was altruistic like that.
Shaking his head, he started toward the door. That was when he noticed Atticus leaning against his truck, staring out at … well, it looked like he was lost in his own head, so he probably didn’t see anything at all.
