Look where that got him.
“You should,” Carson finally said.
“Should what?”
“Go home with Slade tonight.”
It was like a punch to the solar plexus. Atticus’s lungs were robbed of air. So much for that lingering hope. Carson was ready to pawn him off on someone else.
He dragged air into his lungs and admitted defeat.
“Glad to see where I stand with you,” he muttered. “I gotta get outta here.”
Atticus looked up at Slade, waiting for him to move so he could leave. His attention was on Slade, so he wasn’t aware of Carson moving until Carson’s hand curled around his wrist.
“Look at me,” Carson urged, tugging his arm to get him to turn around.
Since he wasn’t getting out of here until they settled this, he forced himself to turn. When he did, he looked up at Carson, noticed those blue-gray eyes weren’t filled with heat as he’d expected. It was something else. Something that looked a lot like pain.
“Last night was perfect,” Carson whispered. “Better than I even imagined.”
Evidently not if he was willing to send Atticus off with Slade.
“But tell me this.”
Atticus held his stare, waiting.
“If Slade walks out that door and I take you to bed, will you be thinkin’ about him?”
He wanted to say no, but before the word formed, he realized it would’ve been a lie.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I don’t want to think about either of you,” Atticus lied.
Carson leaned in, cupping his face in a gesture that was far too intimate. “But you can’t help yourself.”
Atticus shook his head. No, he couldn’t.
“We can’t help it either.”
He wasn’t sure whether Carson was referring to thinking about the three of them together or to what they’d talked about earlier. An exhibitionist and a voyeur … shouldn’t they go hand in hand?
“Go home with him,” Carson repeated. “Spend the night with him. See how you feel in the mornin’.”
Atticus frowned. “I won’t be thinkin’ about you if I do.”
That was also a lie, but it had to be said.
“I want you, Atticus,” he whispered. “More than I’ve wanted anyone in a long time.”
“And Slade?” he countered. “You want him, too?”
He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Atticus could see the truth in his eyes. Carson still had feelings for Slade even if he was trying not to.
Which meant this was even more fucked up than he thought. They both claimed they wanted to fuck him and fine, he wouldn’t deny that he wanted the same thing. And a physical relationship was all he’d had in the past, so it shouldn’t be a problem. But for whatever dumbass reason, Atticus was thinking aboutmore. Themorethat came after one night of mind-blowing sex.
Could there even be anafterwhen three people were involved?
