Page 7 of Seven Year Itch
“Come on, now... put him in his fucking place,” I murmur and wipe the fog off the glass that my voice caused. “Where’s the woman who turned a Dom into a sub just five minutes ago?”
When the man leans in to whisper in her ear again and she recoils for a second time, I see red. Heart hammering in my chest, I rush around the corner for the door and push my way through a swarm of sweaty, naked bodies, getting a handful of gropes with every step I take.
“Back the fuck off her,” I growl at the dude as soon as I’m within spitting distance of him. The old geezer clearly failed to acceptnothe first time from a newbie, so he deserves no pleasantries from me. Using my shoulder, I insert myself between them and turn to face Dakota, who stares back at me with wide, horrified eyes.
“We are not here to play.” I grab Dakota’s hand in a claiming sort of way and add, “We’re just watching.”
“I didn’t realize she was part of a couple.” The man coos as he moves around me to take a full look at the two of us. I level him with a glare, and his brows quirk. “Maybe you both—”
“The answer isno,” I bark and note that Dakota’s breathing has picked up. I don’t know if it’s me or the guy freaking her out, but I expect I was breathing the same way when I spotted her kneeling at some asshole’s feet five minutes ago.
Thankfully, her shock keeps her compliant for a rare moment, and she allows me to tuck her under my arm and move her through the crowd toward the exit. We have to step over a woman going down on another woman directly in front of the door, but when we’re greeted with the quietness of the hallway, I sigh with relief.
Glancing around, irritation pricks the hairs on my neck as I spot all the voyeurs’ eyes on us. I grab Dakota’s wrist again and pull her away from the theater while fighting the strange urge toyell at all of them to look the fuck away. I don’t even like this girl, but right now she’s a newbie and she seems uncomfortable, so I’m trying not to read too much into my overprotective reaction.
I find a closet-size private room at the end of a hallway. It’s poorly lit, but at least it has a door with no windows for gawkers.
“What in the fucking hell are you doing here?” I hiss, trying not to draw the attention of the security cameras as I close the door as calmly as possible.
“What the hell areyoudoing here?” she repeats my question and struggles to cover her body, clearly mortified to be so naked in front of me. Her curves glow in the dim yellow light overhead, and I feel my body reacting carnally to her. It’s hard not to be turned on in a place like this, even by someone I can’t stand.
Jaw clenched, I begin unbuttoning my flannel—and feel all the air escape my lungs when Dakota’s small but mighty palms shove me across the room until my back hits the wall.
“I am not fucking you, Calder Fletcher,” she exclaims, her voice shrill as her fingers gouge into my pecs.
“I am not fuckingyou,Dakota Schaefer,” I roar back as I rip the last few buttons on my shirt in haste. I stand before her in nothing but my faded jeans and black boots as I hold my flannel out. “Would you cover yourself up, for fuck’s sake?”
She looks at my shirt like it’s covered in fleas. “Why? Am I that disgusting to you? Well, get the hell over it because I can wear what I want here. I don’t give a fuck if my body disgusts you or not.”
“You think your body is disgusting?” My jaw drops at her insane response.
Her head yanks back. “No, but you obviously do, or you wouldn’t be trying to cover me up right now.”
I bite my lip, holding back the irritation billowing up inside of me. In all the years I’ve known this woman, she never fuckinghearsme. It’s like we speak two different languages. Every damn decision she had to make on her house with me felt like we were trying to solve the square root of pi. It was excruciating.
“I’m offering you my shirt because I can’t talk to you when you’re half-naked.”
My eyes have a mind of their own and move down her body a little more slowly this time. This isn’t the same body she had when I met her seven years ago as the best friend of my niece’s nanny. Back then she was a slip of a thing but still just as spunky. In the years that have passed, she’s been married and had some changes in her form. None of which are disgusting.
Noticeable, yes. Disgusting... hell no.
Her body is just as annoyingly delectable as it always has been. I’d be half-attracted to her if she didn’t speak. Maybe that’s my kink: a silent partner.
“Well, that’s good you can’t talk to me when I’m half-naked because I don’t want you to talk to me at all.” She flips her hair as she moves to open the door.
“Just tell me what you’re doing here,” I command as my hand flattens on the wood to press it closed again.
Her arm brushes against my abs as she struggles with the doorknob, and I feel my body tremble at her proximity. She turns and looks up at me, her nostrils flaring in defiance.
God, she’d make a stunning brat.
“You tell me first,” she quips.
“I’m a member here,” I answer through clenched teeth.
“Of course you are.” She rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t be more predictable.”
“You couldn’t be more annoying.” I step back and toss my flannel into her chest and eye her firmly. “Aren’t you married? That guy in there definitely wasn’t your husband.”
