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“Looks like you had a great swim,” I mention.
“The best.”
Something in Rhys’s tone makes me blush again. My head’s in the gutter about random, innocent comments today. I blame my choice of movies.
“You seem a little stressed,” Rhys points out, leaning on the breakfast bar. “Anything we can help with?”
They’re so incrediblynice.
“It’s nothing, really. Just…” I shrug. “You know, insomnia.”
“I recommend orgasms as a remedy,” Violet teases wickedly.
She’s always been a free spirit, but there’s been a shift in the way she talks about sex since Sunday. Now, I know more about her lifestyle.
She’s very casual about sex, and she’s figured out I’m not easily shocked by it. “Yeah, well, I’m not getting any of those,” I mutter with a sigh.
I hesitate; I’ve never had friends to be open about that sort of things, but Violet and Rhys would never judge me—I understand that clearly, knowing everything I know about them. They’re messed up in their own way, wholesome as they look from the outside.
So I spill.
“Since that dick tied me up and did all those things to me, I’ve been out of sorts. I mean, I don’t wantMarius,” I’m quick to backpedal. “And what he did was very wrong—kidnapping me and doing all those sexual things to me to torture the truth out of me like he’s some freaky James Bond or whatever.”
I haven’t told her—or anyone—about the restroom incident. Even Bex, who’s been wise enough not to ask about it.
“But still,” I conclude lamely, unsure how to explain my point without making it sound I’m into Marius.
Which I amnot.
“He made you horny for theD,” Violet sums up. “And he wasn’t man enough to deliver.”
“Well…” I try to find an objection, and fail. “Yeah.”
Violet grins impishly, and I know, right there, that something positively scandalous has occurred to her. “You should fuck Rhys. He’s very good at it.”
My jaw drops. She can’t possibly have just offered me her husband, a man not five feet away, calmly sipping his chamomile tea. I must have misheard her.
“What?”
“Rhys will be only too happy to help provide you with a night-time orgasm, won’t you, darling?”
The tall, dark and very British man stops sipping long enough to say, “I’d love to.”
Holy fucking shit.
My cheeks heat. They can’t possibly mean—how could Violet be okay with that, for one?
And would I be okay with that?
I am horny; I have been for days, and I can’t take the edge off. But I’m not the kind of girl who just goes to a club and picks some guy for a one-night stand; besides, orgasms aren’t guaranteed that way. I don’t have a boyfriend, or a friend with benefits, or anyone attached to a dick I can appeal to for help with my situation.
But Violet just volunteered her husband, and he accepted, too.
I clear my throat. “Wouldn’t that be…weird?”
“Violet fucks my cousin—make that plural, both of them. And most of our friends.” Rhys shrugs, laidback as ever. “I fuck Riley, I fuck Kayla, and I fuck some girls whose names I don’t recall. If anything’s weird, it’ll be on your end.”
Oh.Wouldthat be weird for me? I don’t know. There’s no denying that Rhys is crazy hot. I never would have even considered flirting with him, given that he’s married, but he’s being offered to me on a platter, no strings attached…
