Page 54 of Villainous Summer

“Next week, the weather is supposed to be good. I was going to take my buddy and his family out on the boat. Why don’t you come with us?”

I narrowed my eyes. “A boat? What about your foot?”

He shrugged. “It’s a few stitches. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Is this some girlfriend thing? What do you want me to wait on you? Wear a little outfit?”

“This isn’t about being my girlfriend. This is just fun. You wear whatever you want. Though”—he tilted his head as his gaze traveled down my body—“I can’t say I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a bikini.”

As much as I wanted to falter under his piercing stare, I couldn’t show a moment of wavering.

I smiled widely, winking. “I don’t know if you could handle it.”

He placed a hand over his heart and pretended to stumble back. “Oh, stop. You can’t do that to an injured man.”

“You’ll be fine, Hot Rod.” Shoving the keys back in my purse, I held onto the doorframe. “I don’t think being alone is a good idea.”

“We won’t be alone. It’s going to be me, Xander, Ana—you met her already—and their baby, Max. No funny business. Just water and sunshine.”

Wrapping an arm around my chest, I considered him.

On one hand, it was a terrible idea to be alone with Van. On the other, I loved being on the water. Wren had gotten terrible seasickness, so as a group, we rarely made trips that involved water.

He bent down, and I thought he was going to try to kiss me again. But his mouth found my ear. His words hot and low. “I’m getting better at reading when your body language says yes.”

He tugged my lobe with his teeth, scraping gently.

My knees felt weak, and my breath came out shaky. I had to will myself not to steady my hands on his wide shoulders.

When he pulled away, he wore a satisfied smirk I wanted to smack off his face but also kiss senseless.

To his back, I called out, “I didn’t say yes.”

He waved, already a flight down the stairwell. “Sure you did, Sunshine.”

An hour later, I was resolute that my desire for Van was nothing more than a distraction.

I had a plan, which was solidified when my phone chimed again.

Sure enough, it was Cory.

As I changed into an all-black outfit, I responded.

Cory: Hey baeutiful

Candy: Heyyyy!1!

Cory: I love that picture of the mountains. Do you ski?

The picture in question had Candy on a mountain with a lake beneath. I had hesitated posting it, since the AI had screwed up the lettering on the jacket, but hoped it was too small for Cory to tell that it looked like a mixture between Russian, Greek, and hieroglyphics.

Candy: I board, but I’m not very good. I end up on my butt or knees half the time. But I still like to stay active.

I was smearing the double entendre a bit thick. Hopefully, he would think with his dick and not get suspicious.

His response was quick, and it was easy to get him interested—after all, I knew his likes and dislikes to a T. As the conversation got more flirty, I screenshot every exchange, every wink, every you’re so hot comment, and when he mentioned he was single and lied about where he worked.

He made it all too easy. His hubris would bring him down.

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