I stared at the sash for longer than necessary before I managed to thank the bartender. But I didn’t reach for it, and I couldn’t imagine myself wearing it.
Involuntarily, I glanced to the right of the stage where I’d seen earlier that another bachelorette party was taking place. A clearly drunk woman had on a sash, a veil, and was currently half sprawled on the stage, her breasts mashed against the hard surface as she reached for one of the twins.
Was that normal for a bride-to-be? I was here because my future sister-in-law had invited me, but screaming, getting drunk, and shouting suggestive things at gorgeous strangers wasn’t what I wanted. To me, marriage meant family. Belonging. Having someone to love and being loved. That was better than the amazing amount of sculpted muscles on the twins’ bodies.
I turned back to the bartender, not wanting to reject his kindness, but I truly didn’t want to wear the sash. Much to my surprise, he seemed to understand without my having to say a word. With a swipe of his hand, the sash was gone.
“I’m not really comfortable being the center of attention,” I said, for Maddie’s benefit. Or was I just imagining that the bartender had understood me? Then again, it was his job to be a good listener. He’d probably seen it all.
Maddie shrugged, accepted my statement without comment. She was surprisingly easy to talk to. I never would’ve expected that from one of Sonia’s friends. Maybe Maddie could be my friend, too? But for Clint’s sake, I had to somehow become closer to Sonia. I vowed to try harder. Surely I’d warm up to Clint’s family—and they to me—eventually?
The bartender’s eyes flicked past me to the stage. “They’re about to do their signature move. You ladies won’t want to miss it.”
Maddie and I turned around. The two men on stage were now down to tiny little jockstraps, or maybe the small swaths of fabric would be considered thongs. All I knew was that the little camouflaged pouches were being stretched to their limits. With that much skin showing, Austin’s and Denver’s matching physiques were even more impressive. Ripped and sculpted muscles covered pretty much every inch of them. The twins weren’t huge like bodybuilders, but they were obviously extremely fit.
In the next moment, they proved just how true that was. One twin flexed his biceps, causing more feminine screams, and then he dropped into a plank position. He did a quick half dozen pushups, and then his arms remained on the floor while he spread his legs. He walked his torso back until his legs were straight out to either side.
Holy crap, he was doing a split, and with his head and chest bent forward, his large, heavy package dropped down and rested on the floor.
“Good God,” Maddie moaned.
Was that really all him? Or had he, perhaps, stuffed the entire contents of a sock drawer into that pouch? But from the way it hung down, and the way the fabric was obviously nearing its breaking point, it sure as hell looked as if it was all him.
Before the roomful of women could collectively moan in longing, the other twin came up behind him, jumped high up in the air, swung his legs out to the sides and touched his toes with his fingertips. For a split second, his pose matched his brother’s, only he was up in the air, and without the floor there to support it, the size of his package was even more obvious.
My breath caught in my throat. I had no idea men’s dicks could be that big—Clint’s certainly wasn’t. Not that it mattered. It was what was inside that counted, but still, I felt like I’d just taken an anatomy class about a very specific body part and learned a great deal. My heart pounded in time with the throbbing music as I contemplated what I’d just seen.
Both twins were on their feet now, walking the perimeter of the stage and letting their adoring—and very handsy—fans show their appreciation with a lot of bills.
Shakily, I turned back to the bar, only to find the bartender watching me intently, smirking slightly. Was my face flushed? Could he tell how turned on I was—and how confused that made me feel?
Maddie set her purse on the bar. The sight of women crawling all over each other for the chance to slide bills under the twins’ G-strings seemed to have reminded her that she needed to pay for my drink. “What do I owe you?” she asked the dark-eyed hottie.
“It’s on the house.” The grin he shot me was completely disarming and served to increase my already rapid heartbeat.
“Thank you,” I stammered again.
“Not a problem. You may be an undercover bride-to-be, but it’s still your big night.”
Maddie stuffed a tip in the jar on the bar, and as we turned to leave, he said, “Enjoy the drink. It seemed fitting for a pretty strawberry blonde.”