A Sinful Trap (Three Sinful Wishes 2)

The blond she’d named Thor caught her looking and offered a genial wave. She lifted her hand politely in return, her smile fading when she remembered that she’d put out drinks but hadn’t offered them anything to eat. Maybe she could get Ava to make them sandwiches. Bodies like that needed fuel. They also needed to be treasured and protected at all costs.

“If you keeping staring like that, Aaron might get the wrong idea.”

The smooth, subtly-accented voice nearly turned her knees to butter, but she managed to turn his way without tripping over her feet and embarrassing herself. There he was. Tall and lean with light brown skin, pouty lips and the kind of curls she would kill for. Hello, Buffly.

“I was wondering if either of you were hungry.”

“I’m always hungry,” he assured her with a small smile that begged her to take that the wrong way. “At the moment, however, I’m more interested in quenching my thirst. This water is for us, yes?”

Though his words were polite, his eyes were anything but. They scanned her boldly, taking in her gardening gear. She was wearing a pair of bedazzled jean shorts and her favorite tie dye tankini that suddenly felt too tight to contain her breasts. He licked his lips and the temperature instantly jumped a degree or ten.

“For you,” she said dumbly, her brain melting from the sudden heatwave.

What was wrong with her? Other than years of drought where she wasn’t interested in sex, and nobody worth her time showed any inclination of wanting to change her mind. In the last two days she’d had two of the hottest men she’d ever seen giving her serious fuck-me vibes. Vibes she desperately wanted to give in to.

Was there something in the water?

They weren’t that much alike. Cameron Locke was a gorgeous, grumpy mountain wrapped in finery and fancy boots. Buffly was younger and leaner, more approachable but somehow a little more dangerous. Definitely more shirtless. That last bit was what had her tripping over her tongue.

All they had in common was the look in their eyes. Focused and intense. On her.

It’s called lust, Bailey. They’re men. They aren’t that complicated.

It was more than that, though lust was enough since it wasn’t one-sided. For most of last night, she’d barely felt anything else. After Cameron’s visit, she’d almost broken her most reliable vibrator. And then there was that dream that had come out of nowhere. She would have sworn she hadn’t had time to fall asleep yet, but that was the only way she could explain the most vivid fantasy of her life, with Locke in a starring role.

Even in your dream you were only watching. How sad is that?

“For me?” Buffly repeated. From his smug smile she had a feeling it wasn’t the first time he’d said it.

“And Aaron,” she added awkwardly. “Water for anyone who needs it, really.”

Shut up.

“Grazie.”

“Sure. No problem.” Where had Celeste found this beautiful demigod and how did she know Italian accents were Bailey’s weakness?

He bent to open the cooler and she bit back an appreciative whimper. Ms. Littleton would probably call what she was feeling now “the vapors.”

He twisted the cap off his bottle and took several deep gulps of water, allowing some to escape and splash along his chin and chest. That cleared the haze of arousal enough to make her smile. She could tell it was a practiced move, mostly because she wasn’t an idiot and she watched a healthy amount of porn, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate it. She liked people who worked for what they wanted, and it was effective.

“That’s enough of that, Buffly,” she admonished, a little more breathlessly than she’d intended. “We don’t like wasting water here in the desert, and Celeste isn’t paying you to do an R-rated Evian commercial.”

He choked at her words, almost fumbling the bottle in surprise. So cute.

Please don’t let him be younger than I am.

“Since you’re here, have you been able to find out where that noise was coming from?”

He stared as if he were no longer sure what to make of her. Why? Were most women down for the count after that water move?

“Your roof was a crime scene,” he told her, still looking confused, “and it hasn’t been touched since the seventies, which I’m told is the limit for this type of material. We’ll find out since we’re in the process of replacing it, but based on what you described, I believe there might be another reason.”

Fifty years. Her first thought was that her budget couldn’t afford it, but then she remembered Pikeson no longer had the final say on those decisions. “You think it’s something inside the attic, don’t you?”

Because that was her luck.

“You tell me,” Buffly replied. “I heard you went up there last night.”

Had Locke told Celeste? He must have skipped the part where she didn’t quite get all the way into the attic.