Although he was questioning his sanity, Atticus gave in. They would talk, and he would get the answers he sought. After that, he would get in his truck and drive to Dallas.
At least, that was what he told himself as he drove to Carson’s house, ignoring the way his blood pumped hot and thick in his veins.
***
Slade followed Atticus’s truck to his neighborhood.
When Atticus pulled into Carson’s driveway, Slade turned in the opposite direction and parked in front of his house. Thankfully, it was a short drive. Otherwise, he would’ve been able to talk himself out of going inside Carson’s house. Yeah, he wanted an explanation. Hell, he deserved at least that much. But he had a feeling there was more to this than Carson was letting on.
Knowing Carson, the man was already scheming, already manipulating the situation to his benefit. He was good at that. He was also good at making Slade want things he’d never wanted before. Like fucking another guy while Carson watched. Granted, it was always consensual. He’d never had sex with anyone who wasn’t fully aware that Carson was there.
For fuck’s sake, most of the men he’d been with found it incredibly hot that Carson was there. A few of them even asked Carson to join in. He didn’t, but they asked. And it hadn’t surprised him that they did. Carson was one of those men who caused heads to turn, and not because he looked like a deranged pervert. Not unless a deranged pervert was disguised as six feet of lean muscle that came with a movie-star-worthy face and a smirk that made even the most hetero man consider his options.
Not that Slade had been straight before he met the guy. He’d already ventured down that path and learned he was definitely bisexual. But after being with Carson, Slade found he preferred men. What he didn’t have a preference for was screwing strangers because it turned Carson on.
Although it was easy to blame Carson for what went down with them, Slade knew he’d been a willing participant. Sometimes even eager because, yeah, it was fucking hot.
He hadn’t thought that the first time, though. No, that night when Carson had set him up to seduce Phillip, the blond guy who’d been hitting on Slade at Moonshiners, Slade should’ve followed his gut instinct and walked away. If he had, he could’ve walked away from Carson before he ever let himself get too close. But that night, Slade learned Carson could too easily seduce him into doing his bidding.
“It makes me so fuckin’ hard to see you with this guy,” Carson whispered in his ear. “I wanna watch you pick him up in this bar.”
“Everything okay?” Phillip asked when Carson walked away.
Slade took a pull on his beer. “No, but I’m sure it will be.”
“Does your friend want to join us?” Phillip asked.
Slade frowned at the man. Was he in on this?
“I mean, I don’t want to be rude or anything,” Phillip clarified.
“Naw. He’s good.”
Phillip grinned. “That drawl is sexy.”
Slade cocked an eyebrow.
“I’ve got a thing for cowboys.”
Slade laughed as he reached for his beer. “I’m not a cowboy.”
“Boots, jeans, hat, and sexy drawl.” He chuckled. “What more do you need?”
Well, horses or cattle, for starters, Slade thought. A ranch, a farm. It certainly wasn’t the clothes that made a cowboy.
Luckily, he kept that mental rambling to himself. No sense in disappointing Phillip when Slade could feel Carson’s eyes on him from across the room.
Phillip leaned in. “Plus, I don’t mind if you ride me. Just make sure it’s longer than eight seconds.”
Oh, boy.
Slade narrowed his eyes on Phillip. “Is that what you want? To get fucked?”
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?”
Slade looked at Carson. It sure seemed to be what Carson wanted.
“Do you live around here?” Phillip asked.
