Page 5 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

She rolls her eyes. “I wish. I just suspect a ton of kinkiness goes on there.”

“You have to be a billionaire to even step foot on the property.” I shrug. It’s a great idea, but not one I could ever afford.

“Doesn’t Paxton sell beer to them?”

She’s right. Paxton is a beer representative for Club Greed.

I think about what Paxton offered the other night. Could I really have him help me with BDSM?

I rush to my desk and open my computer. I start out with a simple search and read about safe words, which is an important aspect of BDSM play. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about being in a position where I have to use a pre-agreed upon word or signal to communicate discomfort or the need to stop during a scene. But I’ll have to trust the process.

There are a billionty articles about negotiation and consent which emphasize mutual respect and boundaries. It occurs to me as I take notes on different fetishes and kinks that not only will I never be into dungeon play or foot worship, but I can’t do this alone.

It’s not like I can tie myself up and spank myself. Nor will I be able to explore any of this with a stranger. Trust is of the utmost importance and there is no one I would trust to paddle me or respect my boundaries other than Paxton.

I pull my phone out of my bag, and bring up Pax’s info and press to call.

He answers on the first ring. “Atta Boy Hunks-R-Us, this is Paxton. How can I help you with your hunky needs?”

I crack up, loving the way Pax always answers the phone when I call. “I’d like to place an order for a tall, dark, and handsome hunk.”

“I can help you with that. We have a few in stock. What would you like to do with your hunk today?”

I giggle. “I need my hunk to help me with my BDSM article.”

“Seriously?” His tone has lost its playful luster and grown serious.

“Yes, I’m saying I need your help with this, Pax.”

“Of course. You know I’d forever help you, Hart.”

A sense of warmth spreads throughout my chest at his words. “I hope we’re not ruining our friendship. We’re going to need ground rules before we get started.”

“Great. I love rules.”

I roll my eyes, knowing full well Paxton is not a rule follower. In high school, he was constantly getting into fights and breaking rules. “I’m serious here. If I feel our friendship is going to be affected, I’ll stop this assignment cold turkey.”

“You have my word, Hart. I don’t want this affecting our friendship either.”

“Can I meet you at Atta Boy’s tonight for a beer and contract signing?”

“I’ll be there.”

As I make my way downtown, the rules that Paxton and I must follow to keep our friendship intact swirl in my head. Tonight, the main thing I want to stress with Pax is: if anything feels weird or uncomfortable between us, we stop immediately.

Paxton is the one constant in my life and I can’t lose him. Sure, I have family, but with my aunt’s relocation to Florida, and my parents visiting her for a few months while they renovate their home, there is a noticeable void. I sometimes call Clara. She’s dating one of my triplet cousins who owns a male revue bar out in Las Vegas. The Trifecta are gaining fame with all their hard work.

As I make my way downtown, my palms sweat on the steering wheel. I’m second-guessing my location choice to meet with Paxton. I get along with the entire Atwood clan, but they can never find out what Paxton and I are doing. Most likely, they will all be at the brewery, which means we will need to be super careful. It’s hard to do that with Paxton’s brothers though. They’re a boisterous, close-knit family. If I had to write an article about them, I’d title it ‘All About Those Atwoods’, or maybe I’d call it ‘Sibling Squad Goals’ and describe them something like…

Callum: the oldest and most serious. Workaholic (at least that’s what Paxton always says) and has no time for a social life because he runs Atta Boy.

Shepherd: He’s more of a mystery. Always gruff in his remarks, but once you get to know him he’s got a heart of gold.

Paxton: middle child, best bestie in the world. Best beer salesman in the world too. Could sell a popsicle to an Eskimo.

Anya: middle, middle child, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy growing up with so many brothers. She’s always been one to hold her own, and the chocolates she makes are amazing.

Brock: second youngest, cellarman, and all around nice guy. Would give you the shirt off his back.

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