TWENTY-SEVEN What Have I Freaking Done?
N OAH
I awaken halfway rolled out of my bed with the covers twisted around me like a straitjacket. Suffering the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life isn’t helpful when the sun is pouring in through my window like a police spotlight.
And I’d cuss real profanity at that inconsiderate orb if I didn’t think it’d make my skull hurt even worse. The pain crescendos all at once, and I’m forced to bolt to my bathroom to ralph my brains out.
Yeah, that was all sorts of fun.
I’m never drinking again. Never. Ever.
At first, drinking is all I can recall, but then other remnants of last night return to me in miniature snippets. Elle down on her knees. Jackson burying his finger in her bottom as he feeds his erection to the warm center of her. Tristan dancing as he strips nearby.
Worse, they all did that because I requested it. It was my birthday wish, and they each complied with it. This makes me gag and toss my cookies all over again.
I’ll never be able to show my face to my housemates again. Not anymore. I’m too mortified. Too humiliated. Thank goodness I’m off work today because I spend it under my blankets and sheets without deigning to show my face to anyone. At least until Jackson appears at my threshold. Apparently, I left my door standing wide open.
Great.
“Hey, big guy, how you feeling?” This might sound kind if he wasn’t chuckling under his breath at me the whole time. Instead, it’s purely condescending. “Still nauseous?”
“Go away,” I order into my pillow. I don’t even say please despite that courtesy being drilled into my conscience ever since I can remember.
“Ah, you sure you don’t want this glass of water and over-the-counter pain reliever?” He dangles it out there like a carrot. “How about this ice pack? I can take it all away if you’re not interested.”
“Leave it then.”
Jackson sounds way too buoyant. So much so that I’m tempted to sock him right in the kisser despite the fact that what he’s bringing me might alleviate my current level of misery. At long last, Jackson goes off to pester someone else.
I honestly would’ve remained holed up in my room if Elle hadn’t insisted I come down to dinner. It’s something she ordered in for delivery because Tristan is as laid up as I am. He must’ve drunk too much, too.
Elle even says that she attempted to coax him downstairs, and he blatantly refused. This sticks out to me. None of us refuse Elle anything. Ever. Yet Tristan evidently is.
That’s... unexpected.
After our meal, Elle invites me to her bed that night, and afterward, we cuddle and talk before we grow sleepy.
“How is work going for you? Save any lives lately?”
I brighten a bit when I realize the answer to her question is yes. “A family of kittens. They were trapped in a drainage pipe and their mom was up a nearby tree. We got her down first, then retrieved each kitten one by one. There were six total, and they all seemed relieved to be reunited.”
“Awww,” she intones, her head resting on my chest. Elliana does this to me a lot. The listening to my heartbeat thing. I like to listen to hears, as well. Especially since that means lying with my cheek against her beautiful round breasts.
I can sometimes even do it without blushing around her.
Despite it being ten o’clock in the evening, my phone beeps with a text. I always respond to all of my messages from my family, and this time it’s from my mother.
Mom : What time will you be here on Thanksgiving? Please note: No is not an option. You might as well let your firehouse know now.
I groan, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with sexual fulfillment.
“Get some bad news?” Elle asks me.
“I can’t call it bad, but it’s not good.” I explain about my mother’s insistence that I come there for Thanksgiving.
“You sound like you’re dreading it.”
“I am.”
“How come? I would’ve thought you’d look forward to spending some time with them.”
“Part of me does, but most of me... They don’t know what I’m doing here, Elle. They certainly wouldn’t understand about me getting paid for sex. They think I’m staying at the firehouse so often that I haven’t had time to visit.”
“Is that what you told them?”
“Not per se. Let’s just say when they arrived at that conclusion, I didn’t correct them.”
“You don’t think they’ll approve of you with us,” Elle surmises, and I nod.
“I know they won’t.” And that isn’t even skimming the surface of whether I’m actually straight or not, something I’m still unsure about. Not that I think they’ll refuse to speak to me ever again. They’re loving people, and I had a wonderful childhood. But they wouldn’t condone the lifestyle I’m leading, and there’s no dodging that.
“That is a toughie. I’m not sure what my mom and dad might’ve thought of how I brought you all here to be with me.”
“What did bring you to Elegance?” I ask her, even though I probably shouldn’t. “I mean, look at everything you have going for you.”
I scrutinize that rich glow she has to her cheeks and the brightness of her amber eyes. Elliana is extraordinarily gorgeous, smart, and successful. She could have any man she might ever want without paying him one red cent.
“Well, for one thing, most men aren’t too keen on sharing one woman, not in bed and certainly not for anything more. I’ve dated and had boyfriends, but I needed what I have with you three. Elegance was the only way I imagined I could ever achieve it.”
My mind flashes to a visual of her sucking on my erection as Jackson plows into her from behind and Tristan performs a striptease. Not only does thinking about it make my manhood plump up, but like usual, my complexion gets all hot. I swear I could toast bread with it sometimes.
But what might some average guy think if she asked him for something similar? I don’t think he’d like having to wait his turn for her, especially not if he was her boyfriend or husband.
Not that she seems interested in having either of those, not the traditional kind, anyway.
Yet this has never felt like a mere physical act to me. Not that I’m the best judge of such things.
But it also doesn’t feel like I’m just here fulfilling the duties Elegance charged me with. I care about Elle. I even care about Jackson and Tristan. And I’m sure she cares for us, too.
As difficult as I found that first evening here—and even a couple since—I don’t regret signing up for this. Elliana, Jackson, Tristan, and I have become a family. An oddball family, but a family to be sure. I just need to keep my blood-related family from discovering this one.
Yet what if Elle renews my contract and this continues for longer? It’s something I’m secretly hoping for. Yearning for, even.
But what then? How long could I logically keep such a thing quiet?
“What are you going to do?” Elle asks me, but I’m lost. What are we talking about again? “About your family?”
“Skirt the subject.” Speaking of the subject, I’m eager to address another one. “Do you know what’s up with Tristan?”
She blows out a long breath. “I don’t. It’s not like him to stay cooped up in his room all day without cooking. When I went by to ask him if he was ill, he said yes. But when I offered to bring him anything that might help, he flatly declined. His grump meter is redlining it, and I have no idea why.”
“Is he hungover?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. One, because he didn’t drink as much as you did. And two, he drinks wine almost nightly. He has more of a basic resistance built up. As far as I can tell, he wasn’t even tipsy.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to strip,” I think out loud.
“I had him strip, too,” Elle says. “He didn’t have any problem with it back then.”
I can’t imagine why asking a former stripper to strip would be an issue. But then again, as a chef, maybe he hasn’t stripped in a long time. I have some vague memories of Tristan despite being well... otherwise engaged. What I remember is him seeming fine one minute and fleeing the next. Was he mad because he was the only guy not having Elliana?
Or am I off base?