Even if he uses it for different purposes, he has a dick. He knows what’s happening beneath these jeans. “Umm . . .” How the hell do I answer that? Any reply is going to confirm I have a hard-on.
Come on. Go down. Go down. Go down.
Fuck. The more I think about it the harder it gets.
“Behave, Maury. Oliver got violated on the way back. We had to use my ass as a shield to keep hands off him.”
He uses the eyeliner pencil in his hand to point at my crotch. “And your honey looks like he hated the fuck out of that.”
“Maury. You’re being wildly inappropriate. You’re embarrassing me. And Oliver too, I’m sure.”
“Come on. You want him. He wants you. No reason to get embarrassed over a stiffy.” She wants me? Did she tell him that?
“Your ass is fired, Maury.”
“Wut-ev-ah.” He waves his hand as if to dismiss his termination. “This is the third time she’s fired me this week alone. Always an empty threat.”
“Stop talking shit to Oliver, or it’s going to be for real. You’ll have to be Wet Me every night to make a living.”
“Okay. Okay. No more shit talk.” Maurice turns his back to Adelyn, and without saying a word she unzips the back of his dress.
This feels weird.
“How many more songs tonight?”
“Two.”
“We’re gonna take off but I wanted you to meet before we go.”
Maurice drops his dress to the floor and beneath it he’s clad in all kinds of lingerie. Bra-corselet thing. Panties. Garter belt. Thigh highs. Everything I love seeing on a woman. On. A. Woman.
Damn. This dude could fool a guy.
Temporarily.
“I hate y’all are leaving but I understand.” Maurice steps into a strapless, red formal gown and spins. Without a word, Adelyn zips him. I get the feeling she’s done this more than once. “What’s the plan?”
“Night swim.”
“Mmm . . . you’ll be freshly fucked for work in the morning. Do her good, Oliver. She’s always cranky as hell on Mondays. A real pain in my ass.”
Adelyn sighs and holds up her hands. “I’m so done here. Let’s go.”
“If she’s not wearing a smile in the morning, I’ll know you didn’t do your job right, Oliver Thorn.” I have so many responses for that comment but I choose to keep all of them to myself.
She grabs my hand. “We’re going out the back door.”
“Fine by me.” I don’t have a desire to get groped again.
Maurice calls out to Adelyn. “Love you, darling.”
She growls. “Love you, Flamer.”
The back hall is far less crowded so we’re able to make a fast exit. “You call him Flamer?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that not offensive?”
“I can call him Flamer. You can’t. Unless you become good friends. Which I highly doubt you want to do after that display of foolishness. I’m sorry about that, but he’s flamboyant. The thought of holding back never occurs to him.”
“He reminds me of one of the guys because that’s completely how we talk to each other about women. But we don’t do it in front of them. There doesn’t seem to be a filter there.”
“No filter. That’s the perfect way to put it. And you never have to be around him again if you don’t want to.”
Maurice is a big part of her life, so avoiding him would be difficult. There is something I’ve realized in the last few weeks. I like being around Adelyn Maxwell. It doesn’t matter what we are doing, I like spending time with her. And I plan on being around a lot. In fact, the thought of not being around her feels wrong. “It’s okay. I don’t think we’ll be riding motorcycles or boxing together, but I can swing seeing him from time to time.”
“You make it super easy to like you.”
“I don’t have to work too hard at liking you either.”
I use the cab ride home to think about the things Maurice said.
You want him. He wants you.
Mmm . . . you’ll be freshly fucked for work in the morning.
Do her good, Oliver.
If she’s not wearing a smile in the morning, I’ll know you didn’t do your job right, Oliver Thorn.
I have no idea what’s going to happen tonight. But if I’m a lucky motherfucker, Adelyn will give me the chance to make her smile.
Adelyn Maxwell
I’m going to kill Maurice. But first I’m going to grab his balls and yank them over his ears. He can wear them like dangling earrings. That would damn sure be flamboyant.
I can’t believe he said what he said. If anyone knows me well, it is Maurice. He found me when I was on the edge of hell. He was beside me every moment of recovery. My rock. He hasn’t ever pushed me toward a man, knowing how fearful I’ve been to offer myself to one. How uncomfortable I have felt. Yet, he likes Oliver. Yes, I have probably said more than I should have about Oliver, but still. He’s wrong for embarrassing me like that. Even if everything he said was right.
I do want Oliver.
I’d love to be freshly fucked for work in the morning. But only after being fucked tonight. All night.
I’d love for him to do me good. It’s been so long.
I’d love to be wearing an Oliver-issued smile in the morning.
Three years ago, if a man like Oliver waltzed into my life, I wouldn’t have been this confident. This . . . determined. But Oliver has awakened something within me that had been dormant. It’s as if only he can bring that part of me alive again. I need it. I want him.
Time to work on that.
“You grab the beer. I’ll get the towels, and we’ll meet at the pool.” I don’t mention anything about him going home to get his trunks; they’re unnecessary. It’s dark. We’re skinny-dipping tonight.
“On it.” I certainly hope so.
I turn on one exterior light in addition to the one in the pool so we’re not in complete darkness. Skinned-up knees from tripping isn’t sexy. And a fall might prevent me from kneeling later. Where has this vixen come from? “We need music.”
“No Whitney Houston, please. It could cause some seriously unwelcome flashbacks.”
I laugh. “Okay. No Whitney. What about a shuffle of my slow and groovy playlist?” Lie.
Martin berated me in the year we were together. Dislodged something vital inside me. Comment after comment about not being enough to satisfy him sexually. Telling me I was a tramp because I flirted with every man who came near me. Which of course I hadn’t. My therapist worked exceptionally hard to get me to see myself as attractive. Sexy. And this playlist is one of the results. Not slow and groovy.
Sexy.
“Sounds good.”
“As Much As I Ever Could” by City and Colour is the first song up. A slow, seductive sound. Couldn’t have worked out better if I’d chosen it myself.
Oliver’s sitting on the edge of a lounger. Unmoving. I think he’s waiting for some kind of confirmation this is actually happening. That we’re really getting naked.
Someone has to get this going. I guess it’ll be me.
I walk over to the steps leading into the shallow end and kick out of my shoes. “It’s been so hot lately the pool has still been feeling like bath water even at night.”
Casual conversation. Maybe it’ll loosen him up.
I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the stone pool decking. I unclasp the back of my bra and unite it and my shirt. “Night swimming is actually better for me anyway. I can’t stay out long during the day because I burn so easily, even with sunscreen.”
He’s watching me strip. No shame. Not even a hint of pretending he’s not.
He finally gets up when I wiggle out of my shorts and panties. I was beginning to wonder if he’d changed his mind about coming in.
I descend the steps into the water until I’m submerged to my shoulders, the bottom of my hair floating around me like the painting Ophelia. “Yup. Feels like bath water tonight.”
; I watch Oliver take off his clothes. It’s only fair to return the favor. I’m sort of kicking myself for not turning on more lights. I would love to get a better look at his body. But I guess there’s time for that later. Hope.
I dip my head backward and wet the top of my hair as he walks into the pool. When I lift, I slick my hair back, pushing the water away from my face.
Oliver submerges and then pops up, wiping the water from his face. “Feels good, right?”
“Feels real fucking good.”
I move backward until I reach the wall. The water ejecting from the spout hits my back, massaging the muscle. “You were a good sport tonight. I realize a lot of straight men would not have gone along with that at all.”
“If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have had I known prior I would become part of the show.”
“You didn’t seem flustered at all. I thought you looked like you were handling it well.”
“That was for you.” He tolerated something he didn’t like for me.
The more I get to know this man, the more I’m convinced his ex was an absolute idiot.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”