Page 80 of A Fool's Game

“I’m not sure you’ll fit my shoes, but I think I have some clothes that will work. Come see.” He walks back down the lower hallway to the back room where he got dressed.

“I’ll fill your fucking shoes, asshole,” Taylor mutters to himself, but he follows.

Biting my lip to hold back a squeal of glee, I chase along after them.

Ainsley’s laying out a few outfits on the sofa. I lean against the doorway and watch my guys face off over designer clothes.

“Your suitcase was the same size as mine. How the fuck did you bring all these clothes?”

Ainsley just laughs, tossing a shirt, still on a wooden hanger, over a pair of olive-green slacks on the back of the sofa before shaking his head and replacing it with another. “Theseare just island clothes. They were in my closet at my dad’s house over on Merit. He must have had someone bring them over.”

“That’s some spoiled-ass, wasteful bullshit,” Taylor says, but he says it while lifting a cream-colored button-up and holding it up to himself in front of a long mirror.

Ainsley walks up behind him and tugs on the hem of his black T-shirt.

When Taylor pulls it off and tosses it onto the bed,I nearly whimper and melt onto the floor. Ainsley takes the cream button-up from Taylor’s hands and helps him slide the soft fabric over his bare skin.Taylor adjusts the collar, and the two men stare into the mirror together for a long moment before Taylor clears his throat.

“You said you might have pants that would fit?” he asks.

And I can’t hold back any longer. “Oh, please take his shorts off.” The words come out breathless, almost to the point of begging.

Taylor shoots a narrow-eyed glare my way as Ainsley chooses a pair of slacks from the pile. “We’re getting dressed for dinner with the folks, witch. There’s no time for any funny business.”

He holds my gaze as he says it though, his smoldering eyes telling a different story untilthe moment is cut short by Ainsley tossing him a pair of pants, followed shortly after by a belt that Taylor barely sees coming in time.

“Try those on,” he says, staying on the other side of the room as Taylor works the button on his shorts.

The guys are focused completely on each other again, and it’s so fucking hot, my knees quiver in my too high heels.Taylor drops his shorts, revealing nothing underneath, and bends over to step into the slacks.

“No underwear?” I ask as I watch his fine ass disappear into the dark olive pants.

“Not in the tropics,” Ainsley answers for him, still watching Taylor getting dressed.

“Wait, that means you’re not wearing any underwear either?” I ask.

Ainsley shakes his head, gaze rising from Taylor's pants to his bare chest under the still open shirt before breaking away and meeting mine. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

I fake indignation with a huff, hands on my hips as I take a step into the room. “I guess I didn’t get the memo.”

Taylor turns to where I stand just inside the doorway, giving me the attention I’m clearly begging for. “Take em off.”

I huff again, making a show of wriggling my tight dress up above my hips until the white lace of my panties is in full view. “I’m not sure if I can in these shoes,” I say, batting my eyelashes at Taylor first, and then Ainsley.

Ains responds immediately, starting toward me, but Taylor stops him with an arm across his chest.

“Struggle.”

His one word heats the entirety of my body, and I can hardly suck in a breath with how hot the room gets all of a sudden.

I do struggle a bit. In normal circumstances, I could remove my own underwear in a quick second, but these are not normal circumstances.

It’s easy enough to get the lace thong down to my ankles, which I bend entirely over for unnecessarily, but it’s quite another to lift each heeled foot, one at a time, while bent over, to pull the fabric free.When I finally stand back up, flushed from my time bent over, Taylor’s got Ainsley’s shirt in his fist, the two guys standing poised to help, orfight, or….fuck?

“Maybe we won’t make it to dinner after all,” I whisper, even hotter now that I can see the four blazing eyes burning into my bare pussy where I still haven’t pulled my dress back down.

Taylor releases Ainsley’s shirt with a shove. “We’re going to fucking dinner. Get yourself together.” He looks from me, with my skirt around my waist, to Ainsley, who’s still got bedroom eyes, and huffs. “Both of you.”

I feel like a mafia princess from a romance novel as I step out of the elevator, one handsome, insanely well-dressed man on each arm.

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