Page 15 of Reckless Hearts

Uh-oh. Busted. “Um... yeah.”

“Last night was fun. I had a really good time,” he says.

“Me too.” As the silence stretches awkwardly, I scramble for something to say. “So, where did Trick go?”

“You know that’s not his real name, right?” His smirk has no right to affect me the way it does.

“You know that didn’t answer my question, right?” I counter, raising an eyebrow.

Wes smirks. “Must have had the same idea as you and bailed.”

Tou-fucking-ché.“Maybe,” I reply, shrugging slightly.

What am I waiting for? Goodbyes aren’t usually this awkward. Then again, I usually take what I want and leave before they wake up.

I find my boots and perch on the edge of the bed to pull them on. “I guess I’ll see you around, then,” I say, attempting to sound casual.

“That’s it?” Wes asks, his tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

I finish tying my laces and stand up, turning back to face him. “Let’s not pretend this is more than what it is. I’ve spent most of my twenties naive to the realities of hooking up. I know how this works.” And I’d be doing myself a disservice if I thought this was anything more. “We all got what we wanted.”

“Whatever you say, Tatum.” He sits against the headboard and runs a hand through his hair. “Man, Wes is going to be pissed.”

“Wes?”

“Trick or treat,” he says, flashing a smile that could melt my panties off—if I were wearing any.

A flood of thoughts crashes through my mind. The words of the man I thought was Wes from last night swirl in my head:"He knows your safeword. He knows everything I know about you."

The realisation hits me like a blow to the head.

“Wait. Trick is the one I’ve been talking to this entire time?”

Not-Wes nods, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Surprise, Tatum.”

Fuck. I feel like I’ve just had a rug pulled beneath me. It explains the reason why Not-Wes seemed bigger in real life compared to his photos, and why the photos were always taken in the dark, and why we never spoke on the phone. “He didn’t know how you’d feel about him if you knew the truth.”

“Because he doesn’t speak? Why would that bother me?”

“He said that dirty talk seems to be your thing, given your entire chat history revolves around it. He was worried you might lose interest if he couldn’t give you that.”

Wow. He orchestrated this entire plan just for me. It’s sad to admit, but no one has ever gone above and beyond like this before. Despite feeling a bit duped, I have to admit that—in a world that often feels transactional—I’m genuinely impressed.

“And that’s where you come in? Are you... together?"

“He’s my best friend. And I suppose I’m kind of a mediator.”

“So that’s why there was two of you. It all makes sense now.” I pause, an uneasy feeling settling in my gut. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“If that’s your way of asking if this is a regular thing for us, it isn’t. I mean it when I say that last night was special. We both feel that way.” He slides off the bed, moving closer to me as he speaks.

“What happened last night? When I was out?” I ask, bracing myself for his answer.

“We didn’t fuck you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Relief washes over me, tinged with a strange sense of disappointment. I can’t help thinking that if there was ever a next time, I would want them to. He steps closer, standing next to me. I instinctively take a step back, finding myself near the door.

“We gave you a sedative. And we filmed the rest. Everything you need to know is on your phone.”

“Thanks.”

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