“Oh, I do declare.” I batted my eyes. “You’ve set my heart all a-fluttah.”
One second he was unmoving, and the next he had me crowded up against the back wall and I was very aware that his torso was exposed and I was wearing tiny underwear. His nose scraped against my cheek as he growled in my ear, “If you’ll recall, I’m doing this for you.”
“No,” I said, hating how thin my voice sounded. “You said you were doing it for reasons I couldn’t ask after.” I kept my hands at my sides because there was miles of bronzed skin in front of me and for some goddamn reason, I was thinking about touching.
“That too,” he said and I swore his lips scraped against the shell of my ear.
I shuddered. I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.
He chuckled darkly.
And that’s when Paul Auster shrieked, “What the hell is going on!”
I screamed in surprise.
Darren winced and stepped away, shoulders slightly hunched.
Paul, Vince, and Charlie stood at the door near the stairs. Paul looked like he was about to have a massive coronary event. Vince looked properly shocked. Charlie was glancing between Darren and me, judging us both in that way he did so well.
“Oh,” I said, trying to gather my wits about me. “Paul. How lovely to see you. And early, even. That’s… neat.”
“Why are there six sexually frustrated men sitting downstairs?” Paul demanded. “And why is your muscly bartender making the sign of the cross on his chest while staring up at the ceiling?”
“It’s Ash Wednesday,” I said. “He was trying to find Jesus.”
“I think that’s in February.” Charlie sounded far too amused.
“You keep your mouth shut, old man,” I snarled at him.
He winked at me.
“Where are your pants?” Paul asked.
“Um,” I said.
“I tore them off,” Darren said, coming to stand next to me. “So we could fuck.”
Oh dear god.
“You tore them what to what?” Paul didn’t sound like he was able to process anything.
“Whoa.” Vince sounded way too excited. “No way. I won.”
“Won what?” I asked as if I wasn’t standing with my balls practically hanging out.
“Absolutely nothing.” Paul put a hand over Vince’s mouth. “Vince doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He hit his head today and has a severe concussion and is just making stuff up. He tends to get concussions. It’s kind of his thing. My poor baby.”
“We all bet on when you guys would get together and where you would have sex for the first time,” Charlie said.
“Goddammit, Daddy.” Paul dropped his hand. “You know that home we keep talking about? Now, all the nurses are going to be older females all named Hilda. No sponge baths for you by some hunky RN named Sven.”
“You did what?” I said, dumbfounded.
“Yes, well,” Paul hedged. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“It was all his idea,” Vince said. “He came up with it and the rules. He’s also the one holding the money.”
“Huh,” Paul said. “That was me being thrown under the bus quite severely. I didn’t think I’d actually be able to taste the betrayal.”