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Kingston silently flattened his palm on the leather. “Kind of. I dated this woman, years ago, who thought it would be hot to see two guys together. That was the first time we...”
“Shared.” Owen picked up the thread without pause. “There was kissing, more, between Kingston and me. It was good.”
“Good isn’t exactly a screaming endorsement. And doesn’t quite line up with that kiss I saw.” It had been incredible for me, and I’d only watched.
“He’s understating things,” Kingston said. “Tell me you’re surprised. She and I didn’t last long—she was jealous of my relationship with Owen—”
“Seriously?” I shouldn’t be any more surprised about that than Owen being minimalist in his description. But it had been her idea.
Kingston playfully tapped Owen on the arm. “I was glad it showed early. My friendship with Owen is one of those things I’m not sacrificing. We’ve got an occasional with-benefits thing going on. We lean into the passion when it feels right for the situation.”
“You were reading yaoi, you’re an X fan, the kiss added to the moment.” Owen made it sound like a reasonable step in a business plan, rather than an intense, shared moment.
Right. “But it was totally spontaneous.” I kept my sarcasm light.
“We didn’t discuss it first, if that’s what you’re implying.” Kingston almost sounded wounded. He didn’t have the right.
But I liked the idea that they were in-tune enough with each other that a kiss could be spontaneous, and my imagination was running rampant with fantasies of them together. Especially given how easily they talked about being friends-with-sometimes-benefits.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” The faintest hint of concern ran through Kingston’s voice.
I’d wonder if I’d imagined it, but his tone wasn’t hard to read.
“We’re not dating.” I had to remind myself as much as him. “But no.” Kind of turned on. Okay, a lot turned on. Letting that truth slip out was a gaping chasm of a line that I wasn’t crossing with them.
Chapter Ten
The cabin was rusticallybeautiful, as I expected from a group of twenty to thirty something trust fundies. In the middle of a forest clearing, set back far enough from the lake to be private, but close enough to have its own dock, and make swimming and boating convenient.
The interior defied the log-cabin look, with tile floors, stainless appliances, and high-end electronics. I wasn’t judging—it looked comfortable, and it was hard to complain about that.
Kingston and Owen introduced me to the six other people there. Half had just come back from an unsuccessful morning of fishing, and the other three were arguing over how many ingredients could change in a drink and still have it be a mimosa.
The morning passed in a blur of fruit plates and idle chatter. The more time that ticked away, the further I drifted toward the living room walls.
I should mingle. This wasn’t a large group, and Iwashere to make connections. The way everyone had split off into packs of two or three made it difficult to know where to gravitate, so the edge of the room got my company.
