Page 23 of Room Seventeen

Bastion flashes a shit-eating grin. “Nobody fucking knows us here,” and then he motions to us, “or at least, we didn’t think anybody knew us here. Why not get a little crazy?”

Carlisle reaches out and touches Evelyn’s arm. “You look beautiful.”

The two women share a secret smile.

“Back to my initial question.” Xander’s voice is gruff. “What are you doing in New York?”

“Yeah, I thought you guys were down south,” Garrett adds.

Romeo shrugs. “We are. We’re just outside of Nashville running a chain of nightclubs and cowboy bars, but we got invited to the big city by an events promoter, so we thought we’d make a long weekend of it.”

Stiles’ gaze never stops traveling between us, as he’s putting together years of questions in his head. I’m doing the same thing, but with a lot more subtlety. “Do you remember Ken?”

“Ken Skipson? Looked like a cross between a GI Joe and a Ken doll?” Garrett laughs.

Stiles nods. “That’s the one. He was always with Paddy and LeRoux.”

“They came in about the time we were heading out, but yeah, we remember him. Why?” I ask.

“Well, THEY bought a ranch outside of Asheville…” Stiles glances at his partners and smiles, “and got themselves a lady named Barbie.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Garrett snorts.

“Swear to Christ,” Stiles holds up two fingers like the scout he once was.

“When are you guys heading back down south?” Xander asks about the same time the submissive walks on stage.

“Monday afternoon.”

“Maybe we should get dinner tomorrow night?”

“We’d like that,” Stiles glances at his partners and pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Give me a number, and I’ll text you.”

Garrett gives him his number as the submissive’s Dom takes the stage. Understanding the etiquette surrounding a scene, we nod our goodbyes and take our seats.

I exchange glances with Garrett and Xander, both of whom are as freaked out as I am. What are the chances of knowing other families like ours, much less sharing the same MOS in the military? Was there something about PsyOps that attracted men with our tastes and desires?

Carlisle reaches over Xander’s lap and squeezes my thigh. “Are you okay?” she whispers, glancing between the two of us. “Do you want to go home?”

I put my finger under her chin and tilt her face up, slanting my mouth over hers. She tastes like cinnamon, her favorite flavor, and now mine too. “No, pretty girl. We have all kinds of wicked things planned for you in our room.”

She grins. “Good, because I’ve been a very bad girl.”

* * *

Darian unlocks our door and precedes us into the room, his head swinging in every direction, his eyes hitting every corner—as I have become accustom to them doing.

My ever vigilant men.

Garrett is on my right side, his fingers interlaced with mine. Xander is on my left, his large hand splayed across my lower back.

Each of my men loves me in their own way. And wholly, their love is more than one woman deserves.

Garrett is all about the physical touch. If we’re in a room together, he’s touching me in some way. He’s the one who holds my hand, throws his arm around me, or wraps me up in his embrace. To the casual observer, most people would think we are in a monogamous relationship, but that’s only if they aren’t really watching.

Xander is also about the physical touch, but his is more possessive and protective. He’s usually the one guiding me with his hand on my back, or grasping my hips to move me, or fisting my hair and pulling my head back so I’m at his mercy. He’s not much for public display, and reserves these touches for home or the office when no clients are around. Or in a place like this, where nobody bats an eye at our arrangement.

Darian is not physical at all, except for when it’s time to be physical. His loving touch comes in a more drive-by fashion when I least expected it. Like when I’m sitting at the breakfast table, he’ll walk by and skim his hand over my shoulders, brush my hair out of my face, and give me a gentle kiss on my temple. He rarely claims me in public, unless it’s just the two of us, and then he almost morphs into a rougher version of Garrett, taking my hand and claiming me publicly for all to see.

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