“No. But once he’d admitted it was a fantasy, I thought that would be the end of it. I thought it was just something he wanted to talk about to get turned on. It didn’t mean we were going to act on it. There’s a difference between talking about a fantasy and actually wanting it to happen. Heath would whisper in my ear when we were . . . intimate. Describing it turned him on. He’d tell me he wanted to watch someone else go down on me, told me I was so beautiful to him that he just . . . He wanted to watch.

“I don’t think there’s anything shameful about fantasies, or even this particular fantasy. But this fantasy was his. His descriptions only turned me on because I knew how much they turned him on. And it was safe—just his imagination, just talking.”

I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees and swallowing back my nausea. My stomach clenches as I realize where this is going.

“Do you have any idea how hot it is to have a woman want you so much she lets you take her in her boyfriend’s bed while he watches?”

Holy shit. She didn’t sleep with Rich because she wanted to. She did it because Heath wanted her to. “Did Heath . . . make you?”

She looks me in the eye for the first time since she walked in the door. “I like to think he’d have backed off if I’d said no that night, but . . .” She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, as if she’s trying to brace herself for what comes next. “He and Rich were such good friends, but Rich and I had a history. It never occurred to me that Heath might be thinking of him—planning something with him. One night, Rich was over. The three of us were drinking bottle after bottle of my favorite wine, and they were killing me in poker. I was too naïve to realize what was happening. I went to use the restroom, and Heath caught me in the hallway on my way back.”

“Shit.” God, I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry I only took one swing at Rich. He deserved much worse.

She wanders toward the chair opposite me and traces the seams. “Heath was so turned on. I don’t think he’d ever kissed me as deeply or passionately as he did that night. Rich was right around the corner, and Heath put his hand between my legs. He touched me until I was nearly undone. Then he started whispering his fantasies again, but now instead of this nameless, faceless third party, he used a name. He talked about the way Rich was looking at me. About how hot it made him to think about watching me with his best friend.

“He knew I was nervous. Even drunk, I was scared. But I loved Heath, and I thought if you loved someone, you tried to make them happy. He stroked me through my panties and kissed my neck until I was too turned on to care about anything but my own release. When he led me out of the hallway, I thought maybe that was it. Maybe he thought it was hot to talk about it with his friend so close. But we walked back into the living room, and he looked Rich right in the eye, smiled, and told him I was . . . wet. Ready.”