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“How do you know that? Wait, do you know them?”

He nods. “Eric is a client of mine. They enjoy giving people a show, usually at this club . . .”

“As in, a sex club?”

“Yeah, sex, lifestyle club, whatever you want to call it. The environment is very structured and controlled. Everyone consents, there are rules.”

I have questions but let him continue talking to see where this is going.

“If you wanted,” he says, glimpsing back down at me. “We could go. They have guest passes. You wouldn’t have to do anything. It’s just to observe, like we did in the cornfield.”

My breath catches slightly. “Just watch?”

“Just watch,” he confirms. “Unless you decide otherwise.”

I roll the idea around in my head a few times. “I think . . . I think I’d like that. You would be with me, just like before?”

“I wouldn’t leave your side.”

I slide my hand up his bare chest.

After a moment of hesitation, I clear my throat. “Before we go, I want to share part of my past,” I begin. “It’s just some background you should know about me. Remember how I said I had done things for money?”

He curls me into him, like he knows I’m about to delve into a heavy subject and need the extra support. “Years ago, I liked this kind of thing. When Steve and I first got together, he introduced me to something similar. At first it was . . . exciting. He was about ten years older than me; I thought I’d caught the interest of someone who was more mature and knew more about life. Anyway, we hooked up and started dating. Sometimes his friends would watch us have sex. I enjoyed being wanted like that, being watched—desired.

“Rhys’s career was taking off, and at times I kind of felt . . . forgotten. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly proud of my brother and his accomplishments. But the attention I received from Steve and his friends, it became almost addicting.”

I keep my eyes fixed on this smudge of paint near the ceiling while I delve back into those memories.

“But then it changed.” I sigh. “Drugs got involved and soon it stopped being about the sex, stopped being about what I chose.”

His hand tightens at my waist.

“I had tried pills back in Maine before Rhys moved me out here to get a fresh start, but it was simply experimenting at parties. I moved to Minnesota . . . and at first Steve hid his habit from me, but after a while they slowly made an appearance. I kept thinking things would eventually get back to how they were early in the relationship, but it never did. Drugs became the priority and I became a form of currency to get them.

“At first it was the watching, but then it was sharing me with his friends. I didn’t get to choose the men, or when it happened, or where or how, or even if I wanted to. It wasn’t about what I liked or didn’t like, it was just about getting something.

“Eventually, the drugs became my priority too. I stopped caring—about anything. Then it became all about surviving the next day, getting the next high, life seemed so . . . short-term. I didn’t have any goal because I couldn’t see past my next high. Detoxing was hell, and when you don’t have much going on, it’s a lot easier to stay high and repeat the same patterns than try to get sober.”

Casper doesn’t say anything right away. He presses his lips to my hair. “I’m so sorry, Anna. It means a lot that you shared that with me.”

“Me too . . . I’ve seen a sex therapist and dealt with a lot of the trauma, but I think it’s important you know.”

“If you think this isn’t⁠—”

“No. I’d like to explore that. That’s why this is different—I feel safe with you. I trust you.”

“If you ever start to feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave right away. You don’t have to explain yourself, just say the word. We go at your pace. All of it.”

I chuckle, loving the way he’s already preparing for an exit route should I need one. “I’m okay, truly. I’ve worked through a lot of it and have made a lot of progress . . . Did you know that outside of my brother, you’re the first man who I allowed to touch me since the night I got those scars?”

“Christ . . .” He fills his lungs, glancing down at me. His jaw flexes and he tilts his body toward mine, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me close. “Then I’m gonna be real careful with you, yeah? You’re safe with me. Always.”

I wrap my arm over him, letting my nails draw on his back.

“I love you,” I say, allowing my eyes to drift closed. Casper has me, and I’ve never felt safer.

The place is tucked behind an unmarked entrance, giving full discretion from the outside. Inside is a different story. We’re met with sultry beats thrumming through the floor and walls, rather than blasting from speakers when we enter. The low-profile forest-green sofas are arranged in semiprivate clusters throughout the floor, allowing for intimate conversations and introductions. A few curved chaise lounges are scattered throughout, and I imagine they make for an excellent stage during solo shows. Brass wall sconces provide flattering lighting, and dimmed LED strips are hidden beneath furniture and along the bar area.