Hot As Sin

18

The guy says solemnly, “But we stayed until the bitter end.”

The blonde takes a swig of tequila straight from the bottle, then smirks. “Well, you did ’cause you were hoping the d***s would make a reappearance.”

“Shut up, Bethany!”

“You shut up, Todd!”

I say drily, “Great story. Could I get some milk and Oreos sent upstairs when you get a chance? To the room at the top of the landing with the skull painting outside the door. If you don’t have Oreos, chocolate chip with hazelnuts will do.”

I leave, listening to a bright chorus of Sures and Right aways before they go back to arguing about Todd’s interest in d***s.

I have to go back into the pool to get Kenji’s shoes, so I’m wet all over again, this time up to my armpits. I leave the shoes outside his closed bedroom door, then head back downstairs and see Nico conferring with the head firefighter on the patio.

He’s trying to tip him, but the firefighter is refusing.

“What’s the word, gentlemen?”

“Good news is, nobody’s hurt,” says the firefighter. “Bad news is, you might get a bill from the city for our services, seeing as how the tent wasn’t permitted. Also, looks like you got a major clusterfuck out front with the valet. Logistical nightmare for them, everyone trying to leave at the same time. Lots of inebriated people getting antsy. I’d get security out there if I were you.”

I say, “Maybe some live music would calm the situation.”

Nico looks at me, then breaks into a grin. “Brother, you’re a genius.”

“That I am. I’m also soaking wet. You got a pair of sweats I could throw on?”

“Anything you need. You know where my closet is.” He turns back to the firefighter. “You think your boys could help me move some amps outside?”

I leave them to discuss the particulars and head back upstairs, this time to the master bedroom. It’s enormous, like every other room in the house. The walk-in closet is bigger than my entire apartment. The lights blink on automatically when I come in, and I head for the big rectangular island with all the drawers in the center of the room.

I quickly discover that Kat has an extensive selection of lingerie, and Nico wears nothing but black boxer briefs.

I proceed with more caution, opening drawers slowly and peeking inside to get a view of their contents before I dive in, hoping I’m not about to stumble across a dildo collection.

Thankfully, the next drawer I open holds T-shirts.

I choose a black one, then take off the silk vest, which seems to have shrunk from being submerged in water. Thank God it has buttons or I might’ve had to cut myself out of it. I strip off my wet T-shirt and toss it on top of the island with the vest, which is when I notice that someone is standing in the doorway watching me.

“Hi,” says Celine, sounding tentative. “Um. I saw you come up and…” Her laugh is soft and nervous. “I thought you might like some company.”

When I don’t respond, but only stand and stare at her, she turns red.

“Did Nico send you?”

She looks confused by my question. “No. Did you tell him you wanted another drink?”

That’s not what I meant, but it gives me an answer: Nico didn’t pay this girl to come up and show me a good time.

I’m briefly ashamed for thinking he would, because it’s not his style, but then I’m arrested by the thought that it must’ve taken a lot of balls for this young woman to follow me here and present herself like this.

I admire a woman with balls. Figuratively speaking.

“I’m sorry, it looks like I thought wrong,” says Celine, embarrassed by my continued silence. She turns to go.

“Wait.”

She stops and looks at me, biting her lip.

My voice low, I say, “Come here.”

The pulse in her throat jumps. She swallows. Cheeks burning, she walks toward me until she’s standing an arm’s length away.

She has a charming smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, fine as a dusting of cinnamon. One of her eyes is a lighter shade of blue than the other.

“How old are you?”

She glances at my mouth. “Nineteen.”

Nineteen. Jesus. I’ve got shoes older than that. “How old do you think I am?”

A little furrow appears between her brows. “Age doesn’t really matter to me.”

Her gaze drifts down to my bare chest. She bites her lip again. That pulse in her throat is going gangbusters.

She whispers, “Besides, you’re crazy sexy.” Then she reaches out and touches a fingertip to my biceps. She traces it lightly down the vein in my arm, following the letters inked on my skin. “And so are your tattoos.”

When I gently grasp her wrist and drag her closer, she gasps, her eyes widening. Then we’re chest to chest and I’m looking down at her and her pretty freckles and those mismatched blue eyes, idly wondering if she’d let me f**k her on top of Nico’s wardrobe.