Allison Walker clutched her breasts as if they were life rafts. Of course, it came as no surprise, given their size, that she was sinking fast.
“Really, Todd, you’re too cute,” she said, wriggling away from him and the tongue he was presently sticking in her ear. Unfortunately, this only served to move her more deeply into Oscar’s personal space. Octopus would have been a better name for the guy. She smiled up at him. “You have such big hands,” she said, trying not to grit her teeth, “I can barely breathe.” She scooted backward, but the stool refused to scoot with her. And to move the stool meant removing one or both of her hands, which wasn’t going to happen. She’d had visions of exactly this sort of scenario happening since she’d gotten the Intimacies brochure. Two men, vying for her affections. Two men, willing to do whatever she commanded of them.
Of course, in her fantasies, she’d been turned on by all this. As it turned out, reality wasn’t all that arousing.
She shrieked in surprise when Todd the Tongue suddenly nipped her earlobe. “I can do that to your nipples,” he breathed into her damp and not throbbing ear.
Not in this lifetime, she wanted to say, but part of her commitment to herself this week included handling just this sort of situation…and not running away. Again, she’d sort of hoped she wouldn’t have wanted to run away. Screaming. Any screaming she’d imagined had had to do with multiple orgasms. Multiple partners optional.
She wriggled free once again and tried to laugh in a way that told these two men that she was totally in charge of this situation. Somehow, looking at the gleam in both of their somewhat bloodshot eyes, she didn’t think she was pulling it off.
She’d only been at the bar fifteen minutes and already she had men wanting her body. This should be cause for celebration. The only thing men had ever desired before was her knowledge of computer technology.
It was the blond hair, she thought, and the makeup. And the clothes. None of which cried “Allison Walker, nerd.” Judging by the men she’d attracted however, she was forced to admit that instead of saying “wanton, powerful woman looking for strong, confidant man” her new look apparently screamed “bimbo in search of immature losers.”
The night had barely begun, though. Best to cut her losses. Fast. She smiled at Tongue, then at Octopus as she carefully shimmied off her stool. “Well, guys, the hot-tub relay is about to begin, and I promised Bruno I’d be his partner. Maybe we can catch up later on.” Like in my next life. “Thanks for the drink.” Of which she’d had far too much. Her head swam a bit as she stood unsteadily on her too-high slingy heels. The sarong wrap mini skirt had wedged up almost to her fanny by the time she got off the stool, but she hardly cared at this point.
“Bruno?” Todd asked skeptically.
It was the best she could come up with on a screaming-orgasm-fogged brain. “You’ve probably seen him,” she said, trying to back between the stools, still covering her breasts with her hands. “About six-five, three hundred and twenty pounds? Shaved head, tattoos?”
Todd said, “Never seen him,” but Oscar laughed and said, “That’s okay, sweetheart, Todd and me can take him. Come on with us.” He got up and took her by the elbow, almost dislodging her death grip on her left boob.
“No, really. I promised,” she said, trying to exude confidence despite her growing concern.
Todd leered then. “And you always keep your promises, right? Like your promise to come back to us later tonight?” He took her other elbow. “Why don’t we just escort you up to the hot tubs and tell Brutus you’re otherwise engaged. We have Bungalow Three reserved a bit later.”
“It’s Bruno and—What’s Bungalow Three?” She probably shouldn’t have asked, but the question was out before she could think better of it.
“Leather Lounge,” Oscar said, almost salivating.
Leather? In all this humidity? How uncomfortable, she thought, not to mention slippery. “Well, I’m sorry, but I really have to—”
Both Todd and Oscar tightened their grip on her arms. “Come on, babe, it will be fun. You’ll like being tied up. Trust us.”
Tied up? “No, really,” she said, knowing she sounded nervous now.
“It’s what you need, to build your self-confidence,” Todd assured her.
“I have plenty of self-confidence,” she stated, tugging back as they tried to tug her toward one of the shadowy paths exiting the bar area.
Oscar and Todd laughed, which both hurt her feelings and made her mad. She did have plenty of confidence. When it came to computer circuitry and running a soon-to-be Fortune 500 technology business, anyway. When it came to being a sexual creature, desired by the opposite gender…well, okay, so her self-confidence level was somewhat lower. Okay, okay, nonexistent.
But she was doing something about that by coming here. And if she had misfired a bit in her approach, so what? The bait had worked, even if the catch was going to be thrown back. Her look still needed a bit of modification; she could accept that. What she could not and would not accept was these two behemoths pawing at her one second longer.
“One hour in the Leather Lounge and you’ll be spitting fire,” Todd assured her.
“And whipping up a frenzy,” Oscar agreed with an eager laugh.
She yanked her arm free, angry enough now that she barely realized she’d also freed her right breast. “The only thing that’s going to be whipped is your—”
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen, but I believe the young lady has made it clear she has other obligations.”
Allie spun around, intent on telling whoever was trying to help her out that she could deal with these morons herself, but somehow the words got all tangled up in her throat. He was an Adonis. All smooth skin, golden eyes, and hard, all-business jaw. His white shirt clung to his broad shoulders, his trousers hung carelessly around his narrow hips. His feet and calves were bare and somehow a tremendous turn-on. The way he stood there, solid and in control, yet relaxed and apparently unconcerned, spoke to her. Something about mixing business with pleasure, she thought as her gaze drifted back over his flat stomach to his tightly held jaw.
Hmm, not so relaxed after all. In fact, now that the sensual fog was clearing from her brain, she realized he was irritated. And if she wasn’t mistaken, that irritation extended beyond the gruesome twosome behind her…to her. Well, what had she done except get hit on by two slobbering idiots? It wasn’t like she wasn’t trying to extricate herself from the situation.
“I can take care of this,” she informed him a bit coldly, “but thank you for your concern.”
“Yeah, butt out,” Oscar added. “We were just having a bit of fun here.”
“I’m not sure the young lady shares your definition of fun,” he said smoothly.
Too smoothly. Something about his tone irked. “I’m not sure you know the meaning of fun,” she muttered, deciding the world was filled with jerks, even ones that looked like gods, and she was a magnet for all of them.
He turned that molten look at her. It was the only thing hot about him, though. “Excuse me then, I’ll leave you to dealing with this yourself.”
It was clear he’d never wanted to interfere in the first place—so why had he?—but when Todd stepped up and breathed on her neck, making it clear he wasn’t the least bit ready to relinquish her, she suddenly decided Molten Man was the lesser of two—make that three, she amended when Oscar closed in—evils and stepped after him.
“Perhaps you could show me where the hot tubs are,” she said brightly, moving so that he now stood between her and the two men.
“Brutus failed to give you directions?”
So he’d been listening in on her conversation as well. She didn’t know what to make of this guy. Was he into voyeurism or something? Of course, if that had been the case, he’d have only had to follow them to Bungalow Three to get a real eyeful. She shuddered and decided it was better to eat some crow with him than eat…God knows what in Bungalow Three. “Listen, if you get me out of here, I’ll buy you
a drink later, or whatever,” she said under her breath. “I really appreciate it and I’m sorry I wasn’t more receptive to your help earlier. It’s just that, I came here with the idea that if I can run a boardroom, I should be able to—”
“I’ll take you to the hot tubs, okay?” he cut in, obviously impatient and just as obviously not remotely interested in her personally.
“Fine,” she said, stung. “And it’s Bruno,” she muttered as he hustled her toward the door. Allie glanced over her shoulder and sighed in relief as she spied Oscar and Todd already slithering over to another unsuspecting pair of women who’d just come into the bar. “I hope they like leather.”
“Where are the hot tubs anyway,” Molten Man asked, not paying any attention to her.
“I can take it from here,” she said, stepping away from him, thinking it figured that just standing near the guy made her nipples hard. Why was it the ones she was attracted to never even saw her? “Thanks again. Sorry to inconvenience you.”
He looked back and also saw that Todd and Oscar were now deeply involved, then gave her a quick nod. “No problem. But you might want to rethink what you’re advertising if you aren’t really ready to go to market.”
She’d already figured that out, but hearing it from him brought back all the feelings of inadequacy that had driven her here in the first place. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she told him evenly.
Her sharp, businesslike tone earned her a momentary surprised look, then he nodded and turned back down the path to the bar.
“And if you ever figure out how to have fun, the hot tubs are right up there,” she said, knowing she shouldn’t have given in to the jab, but his indifference just pushed one too many of her buttons.
He looked back, then followed her gesture to the ceiling of the main lodge.
It gave her some level of satisfaction to see the momentary shock cross his face. So, he wasn’t so indifferent as all that after all.
She walked away and left him staring at the glass-bottom hot tubs that formed the roof of the hut. She remembered her own shock when she’d realized that the ceiling wasn’t some kind of moving mosaic. From her one glance, it appeared that the clothing optional guests had taken over the tubs tonight, she thought, stifling a giggle.
She wanted to turn and see if he was still staring at the scene above…and if it was having any other effect on him other than shock, but it was at that moment she realized that the entire time she’d stood there with him, delivering her lines with such frosty aplomb, she’d completely forgotten she’d been bared from the waist up.
She flushed hotly and quickly hooked the front clasp of her super bra and tied up her blouse, then hurried on her way. The body puzzle game was starting soon, which gave her about twenty minutes to work up her nerve to join the Slot Team.
She wasted a minute wondering if Mr. Good Deed would ever consider joining the Tab Team, then quickly shut down that path of speculation. She was no more interested in his type than she was in Tongue or Octopus. Okay, so she was interested in his body type. But it was exactly his kind of attitude she’d suffered from all too often. The “she’s smart and brainy in the boardroom, so she must be boring or frozen in the bedroom” attitude. And she knew it didn’t help matters any that she had few curves…and even fewer notions about how to use what little she did have to her best advantage. She’d been too busy earning multiple degrees to get much practice in college, and now there simply weren’t many willing partners available to experiment with.
She’d hoped that here, thousands of miles away from that boardroom, she could find out what it was she needed to do to spark things up a bit in her bedroom. She was as committed to being open to new ideas, to trying new things, stretching her personal boundaries, expanding her comfort zone, as she was to making her company one of the most successful firms in Silicon Valley.
So what had she gone and done? Turned down her first offer to try something really new.
“Leather Lounge, huh?” she murmured to herself, thinking maybe, just maybe, she should at least go and give it a look. But not with Octopus and Tongue.
Images of Molten Man tying her up with thin leather straps stopped her dead on the path. She’d never even fantasized about being tied up. So why did the mere idea of him leaning over her, securing her wrists—Dear God she was wet just thinking about it.
She looked behind her, back toward the main lodge and the bar. Should she go back there? Do whatever it took to make herself more visible to him?
She looked down at her hastily knotted shirt and gave a rueful snort. “Oh, you’ve already been about as visible as you can get with him.” Short of stripping off her sarong-style miniskirt anyway. And somehow she doubted that would have him swooning at her feet either.
Maybe she’d get lucky during the Body Puzzle, she told herself, sending one last lingering glance down the path. Besides, she wanted a guy who knew how to have a good time. And even more importantly, how to show her how to have a good time. Somehow, she thought Mr. Good Deed might have as many hangups as she did. Not a good match.
“Tell that to my wet panties,” she muttered as she hurried to Lagoon West. Hurrying anywhere in the stupid mules she’d decided to wear tonight proved a fruitless endeavor. She’d picked them hoping they’d show a flare of calf, but she suspected all they showed was her lack of coordination in anything higher than a sensible one-inch heel. Finally she kicked them off altogether. Then she undid the knot, readjusted her pump-me-up bra, and buttoned her shirt properly before tucking it into the sarong skirt. There wasn’t much she could do about the skirt. Or the hair, or the makeup. She did unfasten the dumb earrings and necklace she’d bought on impulse at the airport and hooked them around the strap of her heels.
Maybe she should just observe the Body Puzzle tonight. Observe the women who played it, how they dressed, what they did to attract the opposition.
“No,” she decided instantly. She hadn’t come here to be an observer. She’d had twenty-nine years, three hundred and six days of observing. Before she turned thirty she was going to discover her inner slut.
She took a deep breath. Okay. Slot Team, here I come. Come hopefully being the key word in that phrase, she added, yanking down her skirt again and adjusting her wonder cups. Then she laughed. She might have a ways to go on the orgasmic thing, but if she was lucky, by the time this night was over, she’d have at least discovered her inner Slot.
Chapter Three
Cam’s wanton island maiden had already become deeply involved breaking rules with two other guys by the time he’d returned to the bar, so he’d opted to set off down a path and enjoy whatever scene he stumbled across.
Which didn’t explain why his thoughts continued to stray back to the silly blonde. Only, in their brief time together, he’d already figured out she wasn’t remotely the airhead he’d assumed her to be. He wondered why she’d chosen that getup, what she’d been after. It certainly hadn’t been being pawed by two men. So what was she doing here?
“And why do I care?” he murmured. She wasn’t what he’d come here to find; in fact she was the antithesis of his dreamed-of wanton island woman. Slender, pale, with no discernible curves and clearly at a loss as to what to do with the ones she did have. Perky nipples, he’d give her that, but he was looking to have his senses overwhelmed here, and for that he needed a woman who called to his animal instincts. A woman who could only be described as lush, bountiful, sensual. The blonde—or whatever her natural shade was—wasn’t any of those things.
He was still trying to imagine her up in hot-tub heaven. His lips quirked as he imagined her talking herself into being the only one in her own tub. All things considered, she’d probably be safer that way.
He rounded the bend in the path only to find himself at a crossroad. There was laughter mixed with gasps of pleasure coming from his right. He stepped in that direction, only to freeze when he heard the shriek of nervous laughter coming from the opposite direction.
He knew that nervous laugh.
He groaned and shook his head. You’re not going to do this. More gasping and moaning just down the path in front of him. Another squeal behind him. She got herself into whatever she’s into now, she can get herself out. Go for the pleasure moans, he told himself, but somehow his feet were already carrying him in the other direction.
He’d just take a peek, he told himself. So he wouldn’t be distracted by wondering just what she’d gotten herself into this time. Probably it was nothing; probably it wasn’t even her.
It was her.
Cam stood stock-still on the path, trying to assimilate the scene before him. It had taken him a moment or two with the glass-bottomed hot tubs to believe what he was seeing. But this—He supposed he should have read the chalkboard before leaving the bar, if for no other reason than to prepare himself for the kinds of games they played here.
He could only assume this was the Smear Fruit All Over Your Half-Naked Partner game. Except the blonde was the only one left half naked. There were some thongs and bikini briefs on some of the other participants, but for the most part it was a sea of naked flesh covered in what looked like mango pulp. And his blonde was smack in the middle of it.
After a moment or two of study, he began to get the gist of the “game.” It was a relay of sorts, where you had to pass an overripened mango from one teammate to another, without using your hands, or teeth. He supposed the first team to complete the relay won something, but none of the six or so teams seemed too concerned with that at the moment. Whenever a mango was dropped to the plastic—and by now quite slippery—mat, another was given to the beginning team member and they started again. Several of the team members had come up with rather…ingenious ways of passing their fruit, he noticed.
She was in the middle of the third line, about four deep in her team. Literally smack dab in the middle of all the chaos. It went without saying that the lineup was man-woman, man-woman. Somehow, she’d ended up man-woman-man-man. Three men were trying very hard to, well, pass her fruit. Mango juice sieved all over her pale flesh. Her shirt was glued to her skin and her various contortions had shoved her skirt up to her hips, revealing a startling pair of hot pink panties with a big red pair of lips curving across her surprisingly shapely little fanny. He found himself fighting a smile. He also found his body stirring. Which was ridiculous. Not that the scene wasn’t erotic. Some of the women out there would have been right at home in a centerfold layout.
I Love Bad Boys Page 19
