And … I think it’d be good for me, you know, to invite some people into my life.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re kind of amazing for making that offer. But why him?”
She set her beer on the coffee table. “Because he seems like a good guy who’s had some bad luck. And I don’t know, when he helped me today, there was just something about him. I feel comfortable around him—which, believe me, in my world, is like finding a unicorn.”
Colby’s mouth curved upward. “I’m sure Keats would be thrilled to know you called him a unicorn. Very badass image. You sure this isn’t just a sinister plan to live out some boss/subordinate fantasy? Because you’ve already admitted he’s not hard to look at, and I have a feeling Keats would have no problem volunteering for that game. I mean, you already got him naked after only knowing him for a few minutes.”
She grinned and tossed the pillow at him, even though the images he painted were oh-so-tempting ones. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He held his beer out of the way and batted down the pillow, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Oh, come on, the thought didn’t cross your mind even once? Yes, Ms. Delaune, should I type this letter with my shirt off or maybe without pants?”
She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re terrible.”
“And right,” he said, pointing the neck of his beer bottle at her.
She shook her head, a little amazed that he’d picked up on her attraction to Keats and that they were openly discussing another man. “You know, you’re not like other guys.”
“Of course I’m not, but what makes you say that?”
“Well, we just kissed and you’re teasing me about another guy like it’s no big deal if I think he’s hot.”
Colby shrugged. “I kissed you. I like you. But I don’t own you. I don’t have any right or desire to control who you find attractive. And I’d rather have your honesty than anything else.”
Georgia tried not to wince. Honesty. Yeah, she was doing a stellar job at that one. Fake last name. Shady background. Not to mention that whole illegal-peeping thing. Just slap a big fat F on her report card for that one. Her conscience wagged its finger at her, bringing the guilt down heavy. Her thumb started rubbing at her palm again. She watched the back-and-forth motion. Maybe she should leave. Kissing Colby had been fantastic, but how could she pursue anything with him? All her issues. The fact that he was dominant. Everything was so complicated in her life right now. “It’s getting late …”
“Come on, baby,” he said softly. “Don’t chicken out on me now.”
She looked up, finding those hazel eyes studying her, flickering gold in the lamplight. “What?”
“Tell me what you really came here to tell me.”
It took a second for the request to register, but when it did, it squeezed around her throat in a death grip. “What do you mean?”
“Georgia …”
The awareness in his eyes was like a guillotine slicing through her last shreds of hope.
Oh. Shit.
“You saw the binoculars.”
Colby’s expression didn’t change, but he set down his beer. “I did.”
She stared at the couch cushion between them, humiliation bleeding through her. This wasn’t happening. “I’m so sorry, I—”
But her words trailed off when he shifted toward her on the couch. He put his fingers beneath her chin. “Hey, look at me.”
That was the last thing she wanted to do, but she forced her focus upward. She’d done the crime, now it was time to pay the price for it. But when she tilted her face to him, she didn’t see any censure or judgment in his.
“You must think—” she started again, but he hushed her with a shake of the head.
“I already knew,” he admitted. “So I’m as much to blame as you are.”
“What?” She blinked, her thoughts scattering like frantic mice. Maybe she was hearing things. “But—”
“I saw your curtains move and a flash one night when I had friends over. The moonlight must’ve glinted off the lens of your binoculars.”
“Oh my God.” She put her hands to her face, officially mortified. “Why didn’t you shut your curtains?”
He chuckled and reached for her wrists, easing her arms down to her lap. “I’m guessing you can probably figure out the answer to that yourself.”
She swallowed hard, the realization staring her in the face. “You liked me watching.”
His dimpled smile was downright devious. “Hello, Ms. Voyeur, meet Mr. Exhibitionist.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “God, that makes me sound like such a pervert.”
He released her wrists and leaned back against the arm of the couch again. “Come on, now. You’ve watched me long enough to know I could beat you on the pervert scale a few thousand times over. No need to feel any shame about it. You wanted to watch. I let you—and enjoyed it.”
She couldn’t process this. All the times she’d watched him flipped through her mind like a dirty movie on fast-forward and repeat. All those nights, he’d known she was there. Then another thought hit her. “So last night …”
“Last night was probably out of line,” he admitted. “All the other times, I knew you were watching, but I didn’t change my behavior because of it. Last night, I did.”
Her heart was moving too fast again, but for a different reason than panic. “Why?”
He considered her for a moment, then released a breath. “Because I was selfish. I needed to know if you watched my window because you just enjoy seeing other people be intimate and do kinky things or if you watched because of me.”
Oh, hell. She bit the inside of her lip.
“Because some people like watching no matter who it is. And that’s cool. I can get into that sometimes, too. But if that’s all it was, I wanted to know so that I didn’t go traipsing where I’m not wanted.”
Her brows met. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve seen what kind of lifestyle I live, how I am with lovers?”
“Yes,” she said, almost too low for her own ears to register the sound.
“And what do you know about me, Georgia?”
She wet her lips. “You’re bisexual.”
“I
