She let out a long breath. Could she do this without the formal walls and lines marking the boundaries? The formality and control were what she’d hoped would get her through the anxiety of having someone in her space.
“Okay,” she said finally and met his eyes. “No faking. This doesn’t have to be formal. But if at any time, you feel like this isn’t working or you feel awkward or uncomfortable, you tell me. No hard feelings.”
His lips curved. “Deal. And if I suck as an assistant, you fire my ass. Also, for the record, I’m exceptionally hard to make uncomfortable. Just so you know.”
She cocked her eyebrow at him. “Colby makes you uncomfortable.”
“Colby makes me crazy. There’s a difference.” He stood and went back to his spot on the couch. “And it’s only because we have history.”
“Beyond being teacher/student?”
A little color came to his face. “Nothing like . . . inappropriate or whatever. I just—I was a fucked-up kid, and Colby was the only person I could turn to back then. The only one who gave a shit about me. When I ran away from home, I left Colby with a lot of rumors and crap to deal with. It was a dick move on my part. But somehow, Colby thinks it was all his fault. I can’t seem to get that dumb idea out of his head. I think all of this right now is some self-imposed penance or something.”
“Or maybe he just cares.”
He sniffed. “He’d be stupid to waste that concern on me. But if me sticking around for a while makes him feel better about it, then I’ll do it. I owe him more than I could ever pay back already. I let him think I was dead, and he blamed himself. I didn’t realize he’d do that, but looking back, it was a fucking cruel thing to do to the one person who’d tried to help me.”
Her throat tightened at the thought. She was still getting to know Colby, but even through casual, neighborly conversations, she could tell that his students were everything to him. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must’ve been on him back then—the young teacher losing a favorite student, one he’d tried to help.
“You do owe him,” she agreed. “And I have a feeling it’s going to take more than hanging out at his house for a few weeks to pay off that debt.” She stood and grabbed a blank notebook off the coffee table. She tossed it to Keats. “Start writing down any job experiences you’ve had and any relevant skills so we can get started on that résumé. The best apology you can give to Colby is to show him that you’re going to accept his help and take this opportunity to get on a path that doesn’t involve getting jumped in a hotel room. You know he’s not going to let you move out until he thinks you’re safe.”
Keats’s expression turned sour. “The dude has a major caretaker complex.”
She laughed. “He does. But that’s part of his charm.”
He tilted his head. “You gonna let him take care of you?”
She grimaced and walked toward her office, which was actually the small dining area that was open to the living room. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Keats. What Colby and I are doing is just for fun.”
Keats turned around on the couch, bracing his forearms on the back of it to face her. His smile turned challenging. “You gonna let me take care of you?”
She frowned.
“Because I’m going to earn my keep, George. Tomorrow, we’re going on our first errand together. Just think how badass you’ll look—a bodyguard with a black eye. No one would dare fuck with you.”
She rolled her eyes even as nerves knotted her stomach. But she didn’t say no.
She had a feeling she wouldn’t tell Keats no for much.
SIXTEEN
Georgia’s muscles ached from all the writing she’d done this afternoon. Keats had stuck around for a while, helping her get organized and learning her filing system on the laptop she’d given him. She’d been worried that having him there would be a complete distraction, but he was surprisingly good at being quiet and soon they’d both zoned into their work.
But she could tell after a while that all the sitting was getting to him. Whatever injuries he had from the fight were bothering him. He’d waved her off when she’d asked him about it, but she’d seen him pop open a bottle of ibuprofen a few hours in and had sent him home to rest. He’d agreed to leave only if she promised that tomorrow she’d at least attempt to go out on an errand with him.
She wandered into the kitchen, planning to figure out what she wanted to throw together for dinner when her phone rang. She strode back into the living room and grabbed her phone off her desk, smiling when she saw the name flash across the screen: For a Good Time Call.
“Hello?”
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you today. But I’ve been trying to be good and not interrupt your workday. Still busy?”
She ran her teeth over her bottom lip. For some reason, the sound of his voice made her feel like a schoolgirl. “I was just wrapping up and deciding what to do for dinner.”
“I’ve got dinner covered. Take-out from Barcelona awaits.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“Of course I didn’t, but I did. You’re coming over tonight, and I refuse to subject you to my cooking.”
“Who said I was coming over?”
“I wasn’t asking, gorgeous. I have plans for you, so you’ll be here. But first, I need you to go upstairs to your guest room.”
She glanced at the stairs. “Why?”
“Upstairs, Georgia. Go to the window.”
“Right.” She was already forgetting that this was the game she’d agreed to. Her heartbeat picked up speed as she headed up the stairs. When she pulled back the curtain at the window, she found Colby looking right back at her from his room. “Well, hello.”
He lifted a hand in greeting. She couldn’t tell if he was smiling without her binoculars to zoom in, but she got the sense that he was. It was a bizarre feeling to be at this window and not hiding in the dark but standing there proudly.
“Now, I know you’ve watched me for a long time and have seen a lot. And I know you’ve done your research. So I’m sure you have some idea of what you’d like to try out and experience.”
“Maybe.” The list was long. But she wasn’t sure she had the guts to announce that list.
“Good. Now, have you ever seen that show Let’s Make a Deal?”
“The one where people dress up in weird costumes?”
“Yep. That’s what we’re going to play right now. Let’s see how much you’ve paid attention. Behind door number one”—he pointed at a closed closet door—“we have things that will help your mind shut down but require a brave soul.”
She squinted at the door, trying to remember what she’d seen him get from there. That was where bigger items would probably be stored. The floggers and riding crops most likely. “Okay.”
“Door number two, which is technically not a door, but a chest of drawers, holds things that will bring intense focus but require the most trust.”
She rubbed her lips together. Focus. Maybe bondage equipment, maybe items for pain, too. Because she guessed pain could make your mind shut down or focus only on that. “I have a feeling these are trick options.”
He gave a soft laugh. “The good news is, unlike the TV show, none of them are going to have a year’s supply of hot dogs.”
“How about an evening’s supply of orgasms?”
“That could definitely be a possibility.”
She grinned, more than a little relieved that even though they were going to try out this power-play thing, Colby was approaching it in a lighthearted way with her. She knew he didn’t always, so she appreciated that he was attuned to what wouldn’t scare her off. “Is there a door number three?”
“Door number three is a linen closet in the bathroom. That holds only things for pleasure, but those require the most patience.”
Huh. Now that had to be the
trick one because who wouldn’t pick that? She pictured what could be in there. Vibrators, dildos, massage oils—all things that were great in their own right. But the more she thought about it, the more she found herself not all that excited by just that. She’d used those things, been down that road already. The reason she was so drawn to Colby was that it wasn’t all about the sweet side of pleasure.
“So, gorgeous, this is the one decision you get to make tonight. I want you to write down the number somewhere on your body. When I take you to my room after dinner, I’ll know your decision. Do you understand?”
“I do.” So did her body. Already she felt warmer, flushed, and wound up.
“Good. Now come over for dinner. Wear a dress and nothing beneath it.”
She licked her dry lips. “What about Keats?”
“He’s already eaten and is in his room, said he wanted to work on his résumé. He knows you’re coming over, so I think he’s making an effort to give us privacy.”
“Won’t he still hear things?”
“Maybe. I don’t think he minds. But if you’re worried, I can always gag you.”
“No, nothing that makes me feel like I can’t breathe. It’s too close to how I feel when I panic.”
“Understood. And while we’re talking about it. Your safe word is red. If you need to stop for any reason, you say that word, and I stop no matter what. And like I said last night, the word stop will get my attention, too. You always have the power to shut things down.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding even though he probably couldn’t see that from all the way on the other side of the fence. The safe word really did make her feel better. She’d learned what they meant from her research and knew that it was respected above all else. She had no doubt Colby would honor it if she called her word.
“You have fifteen minutes to get dressed and over here. Then we eat. After that, you’re all mine.”
She shivered. “I can’t wait. I’ve heard Barcelona has excellent food.”
He laughed. “Smartass. You just earned an extra swat for that one.”
“Look forward to it.”
With that, she hung up, shut her curtains, and collapsed onto the guest bed with a smile so big it hurt her face.
All these months she’d been sitting in the dark, watching the erotic tableaus of Colby Wilkes through that window, wondering what it must feel like to be so free, how heady it must feel to be the center of that man’s attention. Tonight, she’d finally find out.
Tonight she’d be his.
—
Keats should put in his earbuds. The voices and laughter from the kitchen drifted through his door like a siren call. He knew Colby and Georgia were on a date. Colby hadn’t told him to make himself scarce—telling him this was his place right now, too—but Keats knew it’d be a dick move to hang around and insert himself into their evening. But part of him was dying to go in there.
Something about those two drew him like a mosquito in the summer, dazed by the buzzing electric light that would zap it dead. He knew it was bad for him to even pay attention to what was going on between Georgia and Colby. He had a good thing going at the moment. Georgia had given him a job to help him get on his feet while he looked for something more permanent. Colby was giving him a place to stay where he didn’t have to sleep with a damn gun under his pillow. He’d be stupid to fuck it up with dumb things like his lust for Georgia and his mixed-up feelings for Colby.
But his good sense was fighting a battle with all the things the last few days had kicked up. And before long, he found himself climbing off the bed and heading out of his room. He was thirsty. That was all. Yeah, and if he could convince himself of that, he really was as stupid as one of those mosquitoes.
He was lost in his whirling thoughts, walking with his head down, when he nearly careened right into Georgia.
“Whoa.” She put her hands up to block him.
Keats tried to stop, but his momentum carried him forward, and he had to grab her arms to keep from knocking her over. “Shit.”
Her hands landed against his chest, and he held her there. For a second, there was silence, both of them looking at each other, her brown eyes searching his. The overwhelming urge to kiss her hit Keats like a fist to the gut. He managed to force out a “Sorry.”
She backed up a step and lowered her hands, smoothing them over her dress. “No problem. Everything all right? You look like you’re in a hurry.”
“I—” He shrugged, feeling all kinds of awkward now. “I was thirsty.”
Her eyebrow quirked.
“Really thirsty.”
Lame. So lame.
“Okay.”
He couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming downward. Georgia looked so different than she had a few hours ago when he was working at her house. The casual jeans and sweater had been traded in for a wine-red dress with a deep V neckline. His gaze lingered and as if on cue, her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric. He nearly groaned aloud. No way she was wearing a bra.
He imagined crowding her against the wall and sliding his hand inside that neckline, feeling the weight and warmth of her in his palm, running his tongue along her nipple until it was ripe and wet, pressing his teeth into her flesh.
She cleared her throat, snapping him out of his own personal porn reel. “Well, come on, I was heading back to the kitchen, too. We have food left if you want anything.”
Oh, there was something he wanted. But it definitely wasn’t dinner.
He adjusted the front of his jeans and followed her into the kitchen, where the other object of his tormented thoughts was clearing the table. Colby looked up from his task and seemed surprised to find Georgia and Keats walking in together. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Keats said, wishing he’d just stayed the hell in his room. After the encounter in the hallway, his whole body felt flushed, his senses edgy. He had to be wearing his frustration like a fucking billboard. He walked over to the fridge.
“Keats was thirsty,” Georgia explained.
“Ah,” Colby said, reaching out a hand and tugging Georgia to him. “I thought you’d gotten lost on your way to the bathroom.”
“No, she just picked up a stray.” Keats grabbed a soda from the fridge.
“You’re not a stray.” Colby frowned at him over Georgia’s head. He’d pulled her against him, back to front, and had his arms wrapped around her waist. Keats couldn’t decide who he was more jealous of.
Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Maybe not. But I’m definitely a third wheel.” He bumped the fridge shut. “So now that I’ve got supplies, you won’t see me for the rest of the night.”
“You don’t have to go,” Georgia offered. “We could all hang out for a while, watch a movie or something.”
“No,” Colby and Keats said simultaneously.
No way Keats was going to be some pitied hanger-on.
Georgia looked up at Colby, and he smiled down at her in a way that made Keats’s body surge with want. What he wouldn’t give to be the one taking Georgia to bed tonight, the one peeling her out of that dress.
Or the one getting those looks from Colby, his mind whispered. He shoved the errant thought aside.
“I’ve got plans for you, gorgeous. You don’t get to decide what happens next. And I assure you, what happens next doesn’t involve a movie.” He sent Keats a pointed stare. “Plus, no more free shows for Keats.”
Keats laughed, but it sounded forced to his own ears. “What? You’re selling tickets now?”
Colby smirked, challenge in his eyes. “I think the price of admission is way too high for your taste, Keats. Better get to bed.”
His throat went dry at that, but he did his best to appear unaffected by the comment. He gave a quick nod and headed straight back to his room, his heart pounding and his cock stiffening. Until this w
eek, he’d thought himself pretty hard to knock off balance. He’d lived a life on the fringe and had been exposed to more than most. But around Colby, he felt like a goddamned blushing virgin sometimes. The guy could be as laid-back and good ol’ boy as anyone he’d ever met. But when he flipped that dominant switch? Fuck. In those moments, Keats’s body didn’t seem to give a shit that Colby was a dude or that Keats was a third wheel in this scenario. It just knew that it wanted a piece of whatever Colby and Georgia had.
Fuck my life.
Keats leaned against the door, pressing his forehead against it, and tried to cool down. Long minutes passed. But before he could get his heartbeat or erection under control, he heard the first smack against skin and Georgia’s answering gasp.
He slid down the door, unzipped his jeans, and wrapped his hand around himself.
Maybe sleeping with a gun under his pillow hadn’t been so bad. Trying to sleep here was going to be an absolute fucking nightmare.
SEVENTEEN
Georgia watched Keats go with mixed feelings. Part of her had invited him to hang out for a while because she hated the thought of leaving anyone out, especially when she’d learned today how much of an outsider Keats had been growing up. But she knew that had only been a small part of her motivation. The other, bigger part had been purely selfish and seriously ill-advised.
Something had passed between her and Keats in the hallway. It’d been brief—a blink and she would’ve missed it—but there’d been a shift. He’d checked her out, which really wasn’t anything new. Keats was a natural flirt. But this time the look hadn’t been playful. It’d been all man—alpha and hungry. He’d wanted her.