I lift a finger to Regina and spin back to face Kirby.
“Get to the room,” I whisper. “Hide. And don’t come out until I tell you the coast is clear.” I hand over the shopping bags as the valet rolls our luggage—and Murder’s carrier—toward the front desk.
Kirby casts a concerned glance over my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? She looks…bloodthirsty.”
“It’s you I’m worried about,” I say. “Run. Save yourself. And if I don’t make it out alive, burn everything in my blue file folder. That’s where the bad poetry is.”
“Are you sure you don’t—”
“No, go. Relax. I’ll be there soon.” I force an encouraging smile and turn, crossing to where Regina is sprawled casually on a ruby-red couch as if she just happened to be hanging out in my hotel lobby. But, of course, we both know better. “Which message board was it?” I ask as I stop in front of her, crossing my arms over my chest.
“The Reddit one,” she says, smiling as she stands, popping a thumb into her mouth and biting down in a way that used to make me hot, but now only makes me ponder how many germs she’s introducing into her body by constantly sticking her hands in her mouth. “I was doing a product shoot for a new suntan oil, but I didn’t figure you’d mind if I came over in my bikini.” She arches a cool brow in Kirby’s direction. “So you’re here with your friend from high school? How sweet. She looks even more like a vampire in person.”
“What do you want, Regina?” I ask, refusing to discuss Kirby with her.
“I want to talk.” Her artificially plumped lips push into a pout.
“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over.”
“That’s what you said last time,” she says with a grin that’s haunted by the ghosts of orgasms past. But that’s what they are—the past—and this time I’m going to make sure Regina gets the message.
But first, to adjourn to a place with more privacy, where a nearly six-foot blonde in a tiny bikini won’t attract so much attention—before one of the men walking by trips on his tongue and hurts himself or is knocked unconscious by an irate spouse.
“Let’s go to the pool and talk,” I say, holding up a hand when she starts to bounce in excitement. “We’re just going to talk. For ten minutes. Then I have to go.”
“That’s what you say now,” Regina says, shoulders swaying back and forth, making her ample breasts—also artificially plumped—bob from side to side. “But once we get to talking, you know how the time flies.”
“After you.” I motion toward the wide hall to the left, glancing over my shoulder toward the front desk as Regina stalks toward the pool in her sky-high heels. But it appears Kirby has already been whisked away to our room.
Good. She’s safe. Now to get rid of Regina and get back to learning all the things that make Kirby’s eyes light up when she’s naked.
But sadly, operation Get-Rid-of-Regina gets off to a bumpy start. First, we end up at the spa instead of the outdoor pool deck and have to retrace our steps. Then the woman at the entrance to the lavish outdoor pool and gardens can’t find my room number or reservation. By the time I run back to the front desk to fetch the information, return to Regina, and we find a seat in the shade near one of the fountains, it’s been nearly twenty minutes.
I’m checking my phone, wondering if I should text Kirby and let her know this is going to take a little longer than I thought, when a flash of red by the check-in cabana catches my eye.
I turn to see a smoking hot blonde in a red bikini, matching red lipstick, a poppy-patterned cover-up that opens at the front, and reflective sunglasses strutting across the pool deck, her loose hair gleaming in the sun. She’s so pale it’s almost blinding, but the contrast between her porcelain skin and the vibrant suit only draws more attention to the places where the red fabric cradles her curves.
And curves, and more curves…
Holy shit, who knew Larry had a body like that? I mean, I’ve seen some of it up close and the rest in form-fitting clothes, but I never imagined her hips flared out so fetchingly at the sides, or that her legs would look so long in heels. She’s only five foot three, but she’s working every inch of her petite frame in a way I’ve never seen before. She looks confident, in control, and so fucking sexy that when she stops in front of the couch where Regina and I are sitting and runs a lazy hand through her hair, it’s all I can do not to dissolve in a puddle of lust at her feet.
“Hey, I was getting lonely up in the room, so I figured I’d come down and check on you,” she says, smiling as she holds up a hotel swim bag. “I brought your suit so you can change if you want.”
“Thanks. A swim sounds good,” I say, clearing my throat as I realize Regina and Kirby have never met, even though Kirby and I have deconstructed every aspect of this emotionally-unhealthy-and-just-plain-stupid relationship at least a dozen times. “Regina, this is Kirby. Kirby, Regina.”
“So great to finally meet you, honey,” Regina says, scanning Kirby from head to toe, a condescending sneer curving her lips. “You’d better get some sunscreen on you quick, sugar, before you burst into flames.”
Kirby smiles. “So sweet of you to be concerned, but I’m covered. Except my shoulders, I figured Colin could help me with those.”
“Of course he will, he’s a good friend,” Regina says, laying a possessive hand on my knee. “This is so sweet of you, Colly, to bring your little friend, brush the spiderwebs out of her hair, show her a good time.”
Regina makes it sound like Kirby’s a tragically ugly old maid I’ve taken pity on out of the goodness of my heart. Before I can call her on her bullshit, Kirby laughs.
“Actually, I’m planning on showing him a good time,” she says, sliding her sunglasses to the end of her nose, revealing wicked blue eyes that send a jolt of awareness straight to my undercarriage. She crooks a sexy finger. “Come on, Colin. It’s way past time for me to get you out of those pants.”
I make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan of anticipation and leap to my feet. “Yes, ma’am.” I salute Regina and offer a quick, “See you later, Reggie. Or not. We’ve said all that needs to be said, and I’m here with Kirby so it would be best if you sent any further questions via email.”
“But Colin, I—”
“Boundaries, Regina. Get some. And respect his,” Kirby says firmly as she takes my hand, holding tight as she draws me away toward the dressing rooms on the other side of the pool, leaving Regina sputtering behind us.
I grin and ask in a delightfully scandalized whisper, “Are we really going to fuck in the changing cabana?”
“Do you really call her Reggie?” Kirby shoots me a narrow look over the tops of her glasses. “I thought I was the only girl in your life with a boy nickname.”
“You are,” I say, blinking. “Or you were. And you will be again. If I never see Regina’s face again, it will be too soon.”
“Nope. Too late,” Kirby says, lifting her nose higher in the air. “Now I really hate Larry. It doesn’t feel special anymore.”
“Oh come on, Larry. You’re special.” I exhale, taking her in again from head to toe as she pulls me into the cabana and draws the curtain behind us. “And you’re fucking incredible in this suit. Like cherries and whipped cream. I could devour you in one bite.”
She pulls her glasses off, tossing them onto the padded changing bench behind me. “I put it on for you, so I could come down here and save you from She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. I thought maybe seeing that you’re with someone else might help her get the message.”
“You’re brilliant, thank you. And maybe it will.” I study her face, but her eyes are cool, giving nothing away. “So you’re really mad? Because of the name thing?”
“No, not because of the name thing.” She crosses her arms, causing her breasts to plump into a configuration even more delicious than before. My mouth is literally watering, but her energy is blaring “Do Not Approach” loud and clear.
“Then what’s wrong?” I
ask. “Tell me, and I’ll make it right. I promise you, Kirby, there is nothing in the world I want more than to make it right. I’m dying to touch you.” I pause before adding in a huskier voice, “To make you come for me again.”
Something flickers behind her eyes, and she points an accusing finger at my mouth. “There! Like that. That bothers me. When did you get so comfortable with dirty talk? I’m the one who’s had a series of intense, long-term, highly-sexual relationships. I’m the one who should be comfortable having a filthy mouth.”
I blink. “Aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.” Her arms flap at her sides. “I’m still faking it until I make it. But you act like it’s your second language, and you didn’t even lose your virginity until you were almost eighteen.”
I grin as I bob a shoulder up and down. “I don’t know. Guess I’m a fast study. Don’t be jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You sound a little jealous,” I say, carefully easing closer. “But you don’t have to be. I can teach you my dirty-talking ways. And we can practice until you feel comfortable.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need a sex tutor. I’m good at sex, thank you.”
“I’m sure you are.” I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her against me, loving the way her breath rushes out in response. “But sex is like music, Ms. Lawrence. You should never stop learning.” I kiss her temple. “Practicing.” I kiss her jaw, right next to the seashell curve of her ear, where I whisper, “Pushing yourself to be the absolute best that you can be. So I want you to do something for me.”
“What’s that?” Her fingers tangle in the hem of my T-shirt as she shivers in a way that makes me certain she feels it, too—the rush, the electricity that vibrates between us every time we’re close enough to touch. I don’t know where it’s been hiding the past fifteen years, but now that it’s flowing, I’m not sure we’ll ever get it back under control.
And why would we want to, when it feels this good?
“I want you to tell me what you want again,” I say, cupping her ass in my hands. “This time in as filthy a way as possible.”
She presses closer, lashes fluttering as her hips rock against where I’m already hard. “Now? What if someone hears?”
“Now.” I slip my fingers under her suit on the right side, tracing a slow path around the curve of her ass, pausing a few centimeters from where things start to get really interesting. “And no one’s going to hear because we’re going to be dirty and quiet.”
Her hands smooth up to press against my chest. “I can’t think of anything to say.”
“Sure you can.”
She shakes her head with a huff. “No, I’m going to be bad at it. And then you’ll laugh, and the mood will be ruined.”
“Nothing could ruin the mood, woman,” I say. “Can’t you feel how much I’m dying to bend you over that bench and fuck you until you scream?”
Kirby looks up, eyes flashing.
“See, you like it when I say naughty things. And I’m going to like it just as much when you return the favor.”
“Speaking of returning the favor,” she says, tongue slipping out to skim across her bottom lip, making me ache for a taste of her mouth. “Now would be a good time for…” She trails off, cheeks going even pinker than usual. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I insist, sliding my fingers lower, skimming over the already damp curls between her legs and the slicker place between. “Come on, Kirby. Tell me what you want. You’re already wet, so you must want something.”
Her hands curl into fists against my chest as her breath rushes out. “I want your fingers inside of me.”
“What else?” I encourage her, teasing my fingers lightly over her clit, making her breath catch.
“I want you to kiss me like you can’t get enough of my mouth.”
“I can’t get enough of your mouth,” I say, threading my free hand into her hair and fisting my fingers in the strands. “Or your pussy. I want you to ride my face the next time. I want to grip your thighs and feel you—”
“God, just kiss me already.” She grips my face, pulling my mouth down to hers. Lightning strikes the same place twice, while a hurricane sweeps onshore, reshaping the world in its wild and windy image.
Hurricane Kirby kisses me like she’s never going to get enough as we tumble to the floor of the cabana, lips tangled and hands roaming.
I’ve got my fingers down the front of her bikini bottoms, and she’s tugging at the top button of my jeans when I hear the first girlish voice scream my name.
Chapter Six
Kirby
“He’s here! He’s here! Where is he?” The girl’s voice pierces the sex haze, and I rip my mouth from Colin’s.
“Shit,” he mutters, pulling his hand from my bikini.
“He’s still here, right?” another voice squeals. “We haven’t missed him?”
“No, you haven’t,” Regina says from not-nearly-far-enough-away. “He’s right over there, getting changed. Should be out any minute.”
Colin and I exchange a panicked, wide-eyed glance and then we’re on our feet, tugging our clothes into place, trying to look like we weren’t seconds away from banging in the cabana, but it’s not easy. My nipples are poking holes in the front of my swimsuit, and Colin’s jeans are doing a poor job of concealing the direction his thoughts were headed a moment ago
I point at his fly and hiss, “You can’t go out there like that. Those girls sound like they’re twelve years old!”
“I know that,” he hisses back, “but I’m having a little trouble with self-control at the moment. Turns out I really want to bang you, Larry.”
“I really want to fuck the hell out of you, too.” My heart swoops as a smile blooms on his face, making him even more ridiculously handsome.
“See there? You’re getting the hang of it. Now, tell me that you can’t wait to ride my face.”
“No.” He reaches for me, but I bat his hand away with a scowl. “We have to get out of here. No more dirty talk.”
“We barely even got started,” he grumbles. “But agreed. We can continue our lesson when there aren’t people around who shouldn’t be exposed to my glorious hard-on.”
My lips twitch. “Humble much?”
“You found it less than glorious?”
I laugh. “No. It seems pretty glorious. But a definitive conclusion is going to require further research.”
“Yes, please.” He darts in to steal a kiss. “We can play research scientist and test subject, and you can poke and prod me to your heart’s content. Stay here. I’ll lure them away to sign autographs, and you can slip out. I’ll meet you in the room.”
“Okay. Number fifteen ten,” I say, glancing down again, uncertain whether to be impressed or disappointed that he’s regained control. I like Colin out of control.
Probably like it way too much.
“Got it,” he says with a wink. “See you soon. And if you’re waiting for me naked on the dining table wearing nothing but sliced strawberries on your nipples and a smile, I wouldn’t complain.”
“Get out of here.” I laugh, shooing him with both hands. “Go take care of your rock-god obligations.”
He darts out from behind the curtain, inspiring a wince-inducing volume of girlish screaming. There are probably only five or six kids out there, but they make an impressive ruckus as Colin greets them, thanks them for loving the music, and suggests they move out of the sun to take pictures.
I wait until his voice drifts away before I grab my bag and my sunglasses and slip out from behind the curtain. With a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure no squealing fans haven spotted me, I make a beeline for the lobby, only to run into a gigantic pair of boobs—face first.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” I sputter, stumbling back to find myself face-to-chest with She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.
Apparently, Regina decided not to take Colin’s request to get lost to heart. She is still very much here and
very much glaring down at me like a bug she would like to drown in her cleavage sweat.
“You. Me. Girl talk. Now.” She loops her arm through mine in a way that makes it clear I’m not getting free without a fight, which is even more discomforting than it would usually be.
Maybe it’s the fact that we’re both semi-naked that’s making it weird. Or maybe it’s the fact that, even with my heels on, Regina’s tall enough to make me feel like a kid getting into trouble at school. Whatever it is, by the time she whips me into the shadows behind the towel hut with a bump of her hip and a flick of her wrist, my heart is stuttering and anxiety is closing its iron fingers around my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
And then Regina leans down and says, “I’m only going to say this once, Short Stack. So listen up and listen good, or you’re going to be sorry.” And I’m suddenly certain that I’m about to be clawed to death by a jealous ex and my body will be discovered in a red bikini, and then my sister and all my closest friends will wonder if they ever really knew me at all, this stranger who thought prancing around in a barely-there red swimsuit wouldn’t end in disaster for a spooky book nerd.
I’ve wandered way outside of my comfort zone, and now I will pay the price—with my life.
And yes, a part of me realizes that I’m being dramatic and that Regina probably won’t kill me—at least not here, with so many witnesses nearby—but logic is no match for panic. Logic does nothing to stop the world from spinning or my vision from going black at the edges.
And then Regina shoves my shoulders, knocking me back against the hut wall as she says something that sounds like “Wanh wanh woah wanh wa,” to my anxiety-bedeviled ears, and then I’m going full fetal position, curling into a ball on the concrete by her shiny gold stilettos.
Chapter Seven
Colin
I get back to the room to find no sign of Kirby, and Murder’s cat carrier sitting empty on the dining table. The suite is gorgeous, with two bedrooms, a sitting room-dining room-kitchenette combo space, and a large balcony with a Jacuzzi tub and lounge chairs overlooking a dramatic view of the strip.
The Bangover Page 5