Can't Fix Cupid

“It’s Wednesday. And sure,” he answers.

I whirl around. “Wednesday?” I ask, my face lighting up.

He eyes me warily. “Yes…”

I clap my hands. “Awesome! I have somewhere I need to be, actually. Can I have a shower? And a ride?”

“Of course. You can shower in my bathroom, and I’ll have my driver take you wherever you need to go. I can drive myself to work today,” he says, picking up his phone from the nightstand as he starts to type out a message, probably to his driver. “Where do you need to be taken?”

“Back to the commune first. Then the college.”

Warren’s eyes flash over to me, and a frown appears between his brows. “You go to college?”

I shake my head, looking around for my dress that Warren carried up from last night, but the white fabric is all dirty and rumpled from lying on the damp beach sand last night.

“Yeah. No. Kinda. Not really,” I say.

Warren pauses. “Okay then.”

He finishes typing his message and then points to his closet. “I had your denim dress washed from the night of the club. You can wear that. And don’t forget to grab your money that you won at the casino. It’s in my pants pocket.”

“Thanks!” I rush into the closet, finding the dress immediately. It easily stands out between all the black suits. I grab it and drape it on my arm as I head to the bathroom. “I’ll just take a quick shower and be out of your way.”

“Take your time,” he says, eyeing the dress curiously.

“What?”

His eyes move from my dress to my eyes. “No bra or panties?”

I shrug. “I don’t have any clean underwear, and my bra is still at the beach somewhere,” I explain. “Don’t worry, I won’t flash anyone but you,” I say with a wink.

He groans, and I swear, his still half-hard cock groans with him. “I need to take a cold shower, alone, or I’ll follow you in there and do wicked things to you.”

“Rain check?”

He comes forward and places a lingering kiss on my lips. “It’s a date,” he promises. “My driver is downstairs. He’ll take you wherever you need to go. Preferably to a clothing store first.”

With a chuckle, I push him lightly on the chest. “Go on,” I say as I back away into the bathroom, dropping my dress onto the counter.

His dark eyes sweep up my naked body again. “Hmm. On second thought, maybe we can be a little late?” he offers. “Sharing a shower also conserves water.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t pretend that’s your true motivation.”

He steps forward to grab me, but I quickly shut the door in his face and lock it. I hear the doorknob jiggle. “No seducing me!” I holler through the door. “We have places to be. You can give me shower orgasms next time.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then I hear, “Fine. But just know that I’ll be fisting my dick in the guest bathroom thinking about you wet and naked.”

I gulp. “Noted, and very colorfully visualized,” I croak out.

I hear him walk away, and I quickly walk over to his shower and turn it on. I hop in as soon as the water is warm and quickly wash my hair and body, which is still tinged with saltwater.

I finish in five minutes flat because I really am in a rush. I wrap one of his fluffy black towels around me and swipe the water from my limbs and hair. But just as I pull the towel away from my back, I feel a sharp pain near my spine.

A little yelp escapes me. “Ouch!”

I look over my shoulder, and then study the towel, trying to see if there’s a splinter or something stuck in the fabric, but there’s nothing. Just as I’m hanging the towel on the rack, something on the floor catches my eye, and I freeze.

With a gulp, I reach down and pick up the single red feather at my feet. I lift it up as if to check that it’s real, before dropping it again in shock.