Page 22 of Seven Year Itch
“You have a lethal spike,” I offer, and I swear my nose aches at the mention of it.
Her brows lift. “Is that a compliment from you?”
“Whatever,” I shrug noncommittally and cross my ankles. “Did you play a lot of sports growing up or something?”
“Just volleyball all four years of high school.” She shoots me a cocky wink, and it hits me right in the gut. “And track.”
“Lucky me,” I grumble, looking away because her skin is glowing in this light, and it’s highly distracting.
After a moment she says, “Iamsorry, Calder.”
I shake my head and shoot her a look from the corner of my eye. “I’m not.”
She frowns, clearly not understanding my response.
I turn to look at her, and my eyes drop shamelessly to her chest.
“What?” She covers herself protectively.
I shrug. “Oh nothing... I just saw your tit.”
“You did?” She covers herself up like her breasts are still hanging out. “When? During the volleyball game?”
I laugh and nod. “Oh yeah... before it was lights-out, it was high beams on... orbeambecause only the one tit popped out. What’s the other one look like? Now I’m curious. Are they identical twins? Or fraternal?”
“Shut up,” she grumbles and yanks her dress up over her chest. “Did anyone else see? I thought it just popped out when I landed in the water.”
“I don’t know who saw, but that image is locked in the vault forever now, along with some other images of you.”
Her face drops in horror. “What other images?”
I turn so my legs straddle hers, taking in the view of her fully now. Her blond hair is in a high messy bun on top of her head, and the pieces that have fallen out around her face are tight little coils.
I tap my temple as my eyes flare in blatant challenge. “You on your knees at the club.”
“Stop,” she snaps, jerking her head back.
“What?”
“Don’t bring that up.” She yanks her legs away from me and sits back in the lounge chair to face the pool, her jaw taut with irritation. “We are not discussing that.”
“Now is the perfect time.” I shift down in my seat to recapture her attention. “I’m probably concussed, which means the swelling in my brain will make me forget whatever you tell me.”
“Why do you care so much?”
She frowns and folds her arms over her chest, and I watch her for a beat, trying to figure her out. What I’ve learned about Dakota the past several years as the best friend of my sister-in-law is that she dives headfirst into whatever she puts her mind to. First it was her T-shirt shop, then her house renovation, then as far as I could tell, it was her marriage—though, admittedly, she hated me during most of that, so I didn’t see as much of her once we were done with the house business.
But Sex Club Dakota? That seems like a big dive, even for her.
“A sex club doesn’t seem like something you’d enjoy. You like control too much,” I reply honestly. “I just want to know why you had the desire to try it out so bad.”
“You don’t know me that well, Calder.”
“I helped you with your house renovation,” I offer. “You get to know a person a lot when you have to pick out paint and flooring together.”
“We’re not discussing the house or my sex life, so just stop.” She shakes her head and loses all good humor on her face.
“Bossy as always.” I narrow my eyes on her. “No wonder you couldn’t be a Sub.”
