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"Yeah. That's what she said." He shrugs as if he's not bothered by discussing my sex life. "He's a good Dom. A soft Dom, apparently. Whatever that is."
"You didn't look it up?"
A guilty look spreads over his face. "I looked it up."
And I know what it is. Not that it needs a lot of explaining. It is what it sounds like. A Dom who's more interested in praise than punishment.
I know everything about sex. All this intellectual knowledge. Not so much practice.
Thisishow I need to have fun.
Maybe Damon is right.
If I keep it casual…
Maybe it can work out.
My brother's gaze shifts to the aisle as Cassie and Jackson approach. They're trying to keep casual expressions, but they're both wearing the weight of their conversation.
Did she tell him to back off?
She tells me that sometimes.
Or did he tell her something about me? Maybe he's said hey, can you let your friend down easy.
Or hey, is your friend single?
It doesn't matter.
We're having fun. That's all.
It's just… fun sometimes includes sex.
Maybe I don't have to keep denying.
Maybe I can go for it.
Maybe I can fuck my best friend's brother and keep my friendship too.
The restof the party arrives just in time for seating. They pre-gamed at a theme bar in the MGM Grand, and they're feeling appropriately groovy.
I move over so the grooms can sit between me and Damon, but somehow, I end up next to Jackson.
Which means he's in prime view of my blush as the curtains rise, the lights flash, a dozen Australian hunks in jeans and tank tops strut their stuff.
I try to keep my eyes on the stage.
I try to think about anything except my blush.
I try to stop picturing Jackson gyrating with the dancers.
Again and again, I fail.
The dancers run through half a dozen scenarios and outfits. They're businessmen, they're cowboys, they're firemen with hoses.
They're all handsome, well-built men. Huge biceps, perfect pecs, defined abs. A few even have soccer player thighs.
But none of them move me the way Jackson does.
