The Consequence of Seduction (Consequence 3)

He pulled out a wand and started moving it slowly over my body. “Spread your arms and legs, please.”

Max held up his phone and snapped a picture. I rolled my eyes and got in position as the stick made its way down the front of my jeans. It beeped.

“It’s probably the button,” I said helpfully.

Bert stood. “Ma’am, let me do my job. You do yours and stand there.”

“O-okay.”

He ran the wand around me again. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine he was my fairy godmother and in a few seconds I’d be two sizes smaller with long, glossy hair and boobs that got me through security based on the fact that they were so awesome the metal detector ceased working in their presence.

“Well . . .” Bert brought the wand back. “I think it’s just the button.”

No crap.

With clenched teeth, I nodded and started walking toward my waiting bag.

“Ma’am?” An attractive twentysomething man with a kind smile pointed to my carry-on. “This yours?”

“Yes.” Seriously? Out of everyone going on this trip, I was the one getting stopped? There was no way Max wasn’t on some sort of watch list, damn it!

“Hmm.” The guy unzipped my bag. “It just seems you have some liquids in here, so let me just—” He froze, his cheeks blushing crimson. “Um.”

“What?” Was my swimsuit that daring? Damn you, Reid! I said black!

“Uh.” The guy swallowed and looked away, then very slowly pulled out a bottle of KY, and note that I said bottle. It wasn’t one of those tiny things you could easily keep hidden in your back jeans pocket. No, no, it was huge, as in bigger than my water bottle. It was like someone went to the Costco of sex stores and decided, hey, just in case we run out . . .

“That’s not mine!” I blurted.

“It was in your bag,” he countered. “Are you saying this isn’t your bag?”

I sighed. “It’s my bag, but—”

“Because if this isn’t your bag, then you need to tell me now. Did someone tell you to carry this bag through security?” He reached for his walkie-talkie.

“It’s mine,” I blurted.

He nodded, then looked down. “All of it?”

“Yup.”

Max waltzed toward us along with the rest of the gang. “Problem?”

“Nope.” I clenched my teeth. “It just seems bringing twenty-four ounces of KY through security is frowned upon.”

“Twenty-four, huh?” Reid chuckled.

I glared.

He stopped laughing.

“Ma’am, this is going to have to go too.” The guy picked up a giant bottle of Her Pleasure massage oil.

I felt myself turn bright red. But I couldn’t say it’s not mine again! He’d confiscate my bag and I really would be walking around Vegas nude like Reid joked!

“And this.” A black whip dangled from his hand. “This is technically a weapon.”

“I’m sure she’s well aware of how hazardous a weighted whip can be.” Max nodded solemnly. “Hell, that handle could be a club.”

The agent sighed.

I groaned.

All in all, two sets of handcuffs were pulled out.

Pink zip ties.

A bottle of flavored nipple cream.

“Well.” The agent stuffed everything back in. “It looks like I’ll only have to confiscate the whip and the liquids.”

“Swell,” I croaked.

“Have fun in . . .” He tilted his head.

“Vegas,” Max said helpfully. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.” He laughed.

The agent joined in.

And I was left wondering just how much of a weapon that whip could really be, especially if I wrapped it around Max’s neck and waited for a popping sound.

I grabbed my bag and walked slowly toward Reid.

He winced with my every stomp.

“Max,” I hissed. “Not funny.”

Milo and Becca crossed their arms with me and took a stance on either side, while Max, Jason, Colt, and Reid stood opposite us. Already we were divided, guys against girls, yet all of us were against Max as he stood helplessly in the middle.

“Don’t start a war you can’t finish, Emory.” I jabbed my finger in his direction. “I know you’re behind the sex toys.”

“Aw.” Max chuckled. “How cute. If you think those are sex toys, no wonder I’ve never heard Reid yell your name.”

“Let me at him!” Becca held me back.

“Not the face.” Max covered up. “It’s my best feature.” He laughed at his own joke, then sobered. “Actually, it’s one of many, feel me?”

“Okay!” Reid stepped between us. “Max, no more practical jokes. All right? This trip is supposed to be relaxing, and we can’t do that if Jordan kills you, then asks us to help bury the body.”

Max held up his hand. “I hereby solemnly swear to stop putting toys in your girl’s bag.”

I tried to keep my heart from fluttering at the words your girl. It felt good to belong to him.

“Good,” Reid huffed, then wrapped an arm around me. “Now, let’s find our damn gate so Jordan can drink those images away.”

“Hear, hear,” I grumbled.

“So.” Max turned around in his seat, whiskey in hand. “What’s the story, Jordan?”

The airplane dipped, almost sending me careening into Reid’s arm, not that it would have been a bad thing. Touching his arm. It had been distracting me since takeoff. All bronzed and muscled sitting innocently within inches of mine.