Stout (Men of Lovibond 2)

“Well, that changes everything.”

“The service is magnificent. You can lie on the beach, in this new bikini, and have drinks brought to you by a handsome cabana boy. Who wouldn’t enjoy that?”

I imagine the serenity of being on a Jamaican beach. I envision the sun warming my skin. It lightly glistens with sweat, but I’m not hot because the breeze cools me when it blows against my sun-kissed skin. The rush of the waves rolling in and out is steady. It’s my favorite sound in the world. A perfect recipe for relaxation.

My lovely imagery is interrupted by a notion—some old naked coot standing beside me where I’m sunbathing on a lounger. I look over to see who’s blocking the sun, and his spunk spitter is staring me down. “I don’t want some dude’s frank ’n beans in my face.”

Meredith bursts into laughter. “Despite what you think, the men don’t go around shaking their balls like maracas.”

“I won’t be hounded?” That would piss me off. And completely ruin my good time.

“You’re a beautiful woman. I don’t think it’s possible for you to not be propositioned.”

I’ve spent my life being compared to a life-size version of Barbie. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, but petite. At five four, I don’t have those mile-long, lean legs like the doll.

I’ve never had a problem with men finding me attractive. Except my own husband. I must have aged out for him since he likes ’em young.

“There’s a policy in place and everyone adheres to it. All you have to say is ‘I appreciate your interest, but no thank you.’ They won’t bother you after that. Harassment isn’t allowed. Anyone who doesn’t abide by the rules is asked to leave.”

“But what about the one refusing to take no for an answer?” It never fails. There will be one in the bunch.

“There’s always someone at Indulge who will say yes. They don’t waste their time on uninterested people.” Well, that makes sense.

I hear the garage door lifting. “Sounds like G’s home.”

Meredith beams. Three years of marriage and she still lights up like a candle for him. Yet she’ll have sex with another man. Their marriage is an enigma I don’t think I’ll ever understand.

“Grayson’s comfortable with me going to the resort with y’all?”

“It was his idea. He wants to do something nice for you. Let him.”

G’s a good friend. Loyal. Protective. So much so I thought he was going to kill Drake when he found out what he’d done to me. I adore him for that; it was nice to know I had someone in my corner.

Grayson enters from the garage and is nearly tackled by their golden retriever, desperate for his daily dose of petting from his master. “Hey, Howie. Were you a good boy today?”

“No, he damn sure wasn’t,” Meredith calls outs. “He snuck into the laundry room and stole my favorite panties from the laundry basket. He chewed a big-ass hole in the crotch.”

Grayson chuckles loudly before giving Howie one last scratch behind his ears.

“It’s not funny. It’s the third pair this week.”

My best friend’s husband comes to her and kisses the side of her face. It’s so loving. Normal. Someone looking in from the outside couldn’t possibly imagine the things they do behind closed doors. “Howie knows I like you in crotchless panties.”

Meredith gasps and slaps his arm. “Stop. Don’t say things like that in front of Anna James.”

Grayson grins in my direction. He’s so handsome. Dark hair graying at the temples. Bright blue eyes. I wouldn’t dare share him with another woman if I were Meredith. “My dear wife would totally say something like that in front of you.”

He’s almost right. “No. She would say much worse.”

Meredith winks at me. “I absolutely would but only because I can. I’m her best friend.”

Grayson gestures to the gift bag on the counter. “Is AJ still calling you a friend after opening our gift?”

I pick up the card. “I loved this. And the bikini.”

Grayson smirks. “What about our offer?”

I don’t know what to say. To decline feels like a shitty, ungrateful thing. To accept feels wrong. Wicked.

“Don’t think about what kind of resort it is or what goes on there. It’s the change of scenery and escape from life that you need. Think of it as a palate cleansing.”

All valid points.

A palate cleansing. I like that idea. A lot. “Okay. I’m in.”

Meredith squeals and darts to where I’m sitting. She throws her arms around me and squeezes tightly. “You’re going to have the time of your life. This is going to be a getaway you’ll never forget. I guarantee it.”

I’m certain it will be an experience I’ll never forget. Even when I try.

Now, to find someone to keep Little Bastard.

CHAPTER 1

ANNA JAMES BENNETT

It’s night one at Indulge, and I’m hanging out in my room. Meredith and Grayson have gone out on the prowl. Not a problem. This suite is lavish. Spacious living room. Separate bedroom. Bathroom with an enormous double shower and soaker tub. It looks the part of a luxurious boutique hotel until you notice the mirrors. There are many and they’re mounted at all angles. I guess this resort wants you to be certain what’s getting slipped in where and by whom. The thought makes me shudder.

I’m starving. I had an early lunch but that was seven hours ago. That means my backbone is in danger of being eaten by my stomach. I need to get something in my belly soon so that doesn’t happen. I’ll need a strong spine for when I return to school in August.

Yesterday’s news included Drake’s refusal to leave his position as head football coach. That means I’ll have to work side by side with him every day since he didn’t have the decency to move on to another school.

Selfish twittlefuck.

I thumb through the resort binder to check out my dinner options. I was fairly set on staying in and ordering room service until I see the menu at a restaurant called Consume. “Hmm. Witty name.”

Meredith has given me the heads-up on resort policies, so I’m already aware that clothing is required in all restaurants. Thank God. I don’t want to see anyone’s junk while I eat.

Ethnic food is my weakness, and my craving for jerk chicken and a pineapple-coconut martini has convinced me I can’t stay holed up tonight.

Attire is smart casual, so I change out of my traveling clothes into one of my favorite sundresses. If I were home, I’d put on an uncomfortable strapless bra beneath it. But here, I’m going braless, erect nipples and all. Makes me feel like a damn rebel. And I like it.

I’m hardly out of my hotel room when I run into a bare couple at the elevators. Both are attractive. Maybe mid thirties.

“Hello,” they say in unison.

“Hi.” I’m confused about where my eyes should be, therefore I look down at my phone. It’s always a perfect diversion in an uncomfortable situation.

The elevator doors open, and the three of us step inside. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe how it feels to be enclosed in a box with this pair wearing only their smiles. “Lobby?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I still don’t know where to look, so I stare at the elevator floor. Without thinking, I step back and lean against the handrail. I consider all the naked asses that have probably been pressed in this same spot and jolt away. Gross. The germaphobe living inside me isn’t going to fair well these nine days.

I’m thrilled for more than one reason when I walk inside the restaurant. Number one: there’s food. Two: everyone is wearing clothes. “Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

Wow. I didn’t consider the possibility I’d need one. “I don’t. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Let me have a look.” The hostess studies her computer screen. I notice her nametag. Michaela. Same as my mom. Reminds me. I need to call her and Willa to let them know I arrived safely.

I cross my fingers hoping it’ll help Michaela find a table for me.

“You’re looking at a minimum of two hours before I could seat you.”

Shiz. That means I won’t eat for almost three hours. “Good grief. Are the other restaurants packed like this?”

“Likely. It’s the dinner rush but also guest census is at its highest since Wicked Week is beginning soon. Things will be even more crowded next week. I highly recommend making reservations as soon as possible.”

“I don’t really know what I want to do.” Maybe there’s a snack bar or something. I’m not choosy at this point.

“Would you like me to check to see if there’s an opening with a single diner?”

In a normal world, I would assume she’s referring to a seat but I’m not so sure about this place. “I’m sorry. This is my first time at Indulge. Can you expand on what you mean?”

“Some single diners may choose to offer available seating at their table to other lone guests. I can see if there’s an open seat that way.” I’m certain splitting a table during dinner doesn’t hold a candle to all the other things that get shared around here.

I don’t think I can wait two or three hours for food. “What is your opinion on the speed of room service?”

“It’s hard to say. I’m guessing at least ninety minutes.” Then I’m not much better off. And I went to the trouble of getting ready.

“I’ll give this single diner thing a try.” I’m not the least bit excited about sitting with a complete stranger. It’s weird.

“Let’s see what we can find for you.” Michaela studies the computer screen again. “You’re in luck. I have one single diner agreeing to share. Right this way.”

Quiet, sultry jazz tunes tantalize guests. The tables are dressed in white and crystal while little pops of red décor scatter the room. Elegant black and white damask wallpaper covers its walls. Enormous chandeliers provide soft light, and the glossy black marble tiles underfoot beautifully complete Consume’s décor. Mesmerizing.

White. Black. Red. If sin had a color palette, this would be it.

I stare at the sensual black and white art on the walls as I’m led to my table. I’m so engrossed by the nudie photos that I bump into a server carrying a full tray of food. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

This server looks so young. I’m certain he must be at least twenty-one to work in an establishment like this, but I swear he doesn’t look a day over sixteen.

“No. Pardon me, Miss.” Ah. He has a lovely Jamaican accent.

“It was all my fault.”

The hostess gestures toward the empty seat. “Kevin is your server. He’ll be with you shortly. Enjoy your dinner.”