Page 7 of Washed Up
Miraculously, that part gets through and they dutifully tromp off to the kitchen. The squabbling doesn’t let up. It’s been this way ever since the jackass the label sent to produce our long-awaited second album made a mockery of it. Ever since, Wynt’s been floundering. He insisted we ditch all that material and start over fresh. Problem is, there’s not been a whole lot of fresh material flowing from his fingertips, and what little has, he ditches almost immediately as not being good enough.
The last time Reid tried to get him to see reason, they wound up taking swings at one another.
I hope they’re not about to come to blows over Iris.
Maybe I oughtn’t to have sent them to the kitchen, where there’s crockery they could break.
Reid is obviously into her. Wynt too, or he wouldn’t be so concerned about her being a distraction. I liked the feel of her in my arms. She’s dainty, but she fit against me perfectly. Wouldn’t mind enjoying a few repeats, maybe even some involving skin on skin. I’m going to check she has everything she needs.
I knock on the bathroom door. Iris opens it a crack. The shower is already running, and she has a towel clutched around her in a way that leaves her shoulders bare. “Oh,” I say. “I brought you some clean ones. Wouldn’t want to vouch for the ones in there.”
“Thanks, Max.” She offers up a sheepish grin and stretches an arm out to take them. Only the movement causes the tuck in her current covering to loosen. She squeals in alarm; drops the towels I just passed and clutches at the slipping fabric. I’m treated to a millisecond view of her luscious tits, before she hitches the bath sheet up an inch. The sides of it are swinging loose now, meaning her backside is bare, not that it’s visible to me. Still, the knowledge of its nakedness weevils its way into my head.
I bend to retrieve the towels from the floor. “Here.”
Her cheeks are rosy when I stand, and I can’t help but notice her gaze avoids my eyes and lands lower down. Her blush intensifies, when she realises my fly is being tested to its limits, thanks to the semi I’m now sporting. Beautiful woman, nipple flashes, and a naked arse, what do you expect? I’m only human.
“Hm, maybe… could you put them there?” She takes a couple of backward steps, allowing the door to swing inwards, and nods towards the heated towel rack. “Kinda have my hands full.”
I step into the bathroom and do as she asks. “This stuff here is mine.” I point out the bottles. “Feel free to use any of it. The three in one wash is Reid’s. Wynt’s is all the stuff in black bottles.”
“Thank you.”
I about turn to leave, and whoa… The mirror is right there behind her, giving me a perfect view of her peach-like arse. Dang, those bruises are ugly. They must hurt. I make a mental note to hunt out some arnica. Still, even marred by the bruises,my cock delights at the vision, and I sigh in appreciation. I’ve always been a bottom man. Big or small.
Oops! Iris’s eyes widen as realisation strikes. “The mirror’s… It’s behind me, right?”
“Yeah.” I admit, nose wrinkling as I offer up a sheepish grin. A cute full body blush sweeps through her skin.
“I’d like to shower now, Max… Max! Stop looking.”
“But…” Might have slipped into fantasy land for a second there. “Right, of course. I’ll leave you to it.”
She follows me to the door, ready to lock me out. From downstairs something suspiciously like the sound of a plate smashing reaches us, followed by lot of shouting.
Worry creases Iris’s lovely face. “Shit! Am I the cause of that?” She troubles her luscious lower lip. “I don’t want to cause tension.”
She’s sweet, and they’re being idiots. A door slams and then slams again. Seems they’ve taken it outside. “It’s fine. They’ll work it out.” Hopefully. “I’ll check on them. It’s probably nothing to do with you. We’re chasing a deadline. Everyone’s stressed.” I’m not sure she believes me.
“Thanks for the towels, Max.”
“Not a problem. Anything, just ask. Especially if you need another hug. I’ve an infinite supply.”
“Later, maybe.” Her cheeks flame again. “Thank you for being so kind.”
I shrug. “I do my best.”
She closes the door, and I hear the bolt slide. Suppose I’d better go mediate between the guys, though by the time I get to them, they appear to have reached a standoff. They’re sitting in their favoured spot on the sea wall, but turned away from one another, presenting equally stubborn visages.
“If this is about Iris, then she obviously can’t leave. She has nowhere to go, she’s lost all her stuff, and her stepbrother is a threat.”
“That’s what I said.” Reid turns his head to scowl at Wynt’s back. “But muttonhead here won’t see reason.”
I take a perch to the front of Wynter. “You’re seriously advocating that we send her packing?”
“We’ve enough to worry about without adding complications. I’d appreciate some acknowledgement of that fact. Plus, we don’t know her from Adam, or that anything she’s said is true. She could be anyone. Remember that girl in Vegas?”
If he means Cotton Candy, then we all remember her. She snuck her way into our dressing room, and hotel suites on a regular basis. “That woman was nuts. Iris is nothing like that. Also, dude! Our problems aren’t nearly on the same scale as hers. We have homes to go and cash in the bank. And it’s not like she sneaked her way in. We literally pulled her out of the sea.”
