by Selena Kitt
Drunk Frankie was also Flirty Frankie. Her friend had moved chairs, next to Beast, and was talking loudly to him—like he might be deaf and couldn’t hear her. Frankie was very animated normally, but when she was drunk, that went off the charts. And she was very drunk. And clearly very eager to talk to Beast about things she really didn’t know about, like his car, and horse power and fuel injection.
Tilly knew nothing about those things and she was pretty sure Frankie didn’t either? Beast smiled and nodded along, murmuring responses now and again, but he had to know Frankie was drunk. The empty schnapps and tequila bottles between their chairs were a dead giveaway, if Frankie’s slurred speech and flirting weren’t enough of a hint.
“Hey, easy there,” Beast said, steadying Frankie as she stood up. His big hands moved to her hips as she stumbled, letting him catch her. Tilly was pretty sure she let him catch her. On purpose.
“Know what we should do?” Frankie reached up and untied her bikini top. Her suit was white, a gorgeous contrast to her tawny skin.
“Whoa, hey!” Beast said, sitting back in his chair as she let the straps drop, reaching back to undo the hook, exposing her breasts. She wasn’t big up top, but she was perky. Tilly always thought it must be nice to have “just enough” in that department.
It was getting late now, and the pool lights suddenly went on.
“Let’s go skinny dipping!” Frankie hooked her thumbs in her bikini bottoms and wiggled them down, leaving them on the concrete with the rest of her suit.
She was completely shaved down below. Tilly got a good look at Frankie’s behind as she turned and ran for the pool, diving into the water. Definitely bruised. She wondered if Beast had noticed. Of course he’d noticed, she thought. He was standing less than a foot away. He’d seen everything.
Tilly pulled her cover-up around her closer, feeling embarrassed.
“Come on in, Beast,” called Frankie as she came up from under the water, smoothing her dark hair back. “Water’s great.”
Beast glanced at Tilly, a gleam in his eyes. “I will if Tilly does.”
“Tilleeeee!” howled Frankie. “Take your suit off and get your ass in here!”
Tilly shook her head, desperately wishing Frankie hadn’t suggested a bar raid. Now Frankie was making a fool of herself, and Tilly was the only one who would remember it in the morning.
“What do you say, Tilly?” Beast canted his dark head at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile. “You only live once.”
“You go ahead,” said Tilly, loud enough for Frankie to hear. “I’m… tired.”
“Oh right, you’re tired!” Frankie snorted a laugh. “Beast, just throw her in.”
“No?” Beast shook his head at her, a question, as he stood. She looked up, up, up, her gaze finally meeting his. He had one eyebrow cocked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching with a challenging little smirk. “You chicken?”
“No.” Tilly scowled, lying, crossing her arms over her chest as Beast peeled off his trunks.
Holy mother fucking Christ in a sidecar.
She hadn’t seen him naked since—
Tilly was on eye-level with his junk, which was anything but. He wasn’t hard, but the man was both a shower and a grower—lucky bastard. Frankie had been absolutely correct when she said the man was a panty-key, but what she didn’t know was that he kept it in his pants. Tilly swallowed, trying not to stare, trying not to notice that her stepbrother’s cock was now decorated with a piercing that glinted as he shifted his hips.
Even Frankie, who had been teasing and calling out to them, gleeful at getting her way, had fallen silent. For anything to stop Frankie’s motor mouth, even for a minute, it had to be big. And it was.
“Don’t be a silly, Tilly,” Beast teased her, his voice low. Then he leaned in, murmuring something only she could hear. “She’s nothing compared to you.”
His words turned her breath to glass in her throat.
Tilly stood, glancing at Frankie floating near the diving board, treading water lightly. Then, slowly, she took off her cover-up. The air was cool, and she wasn’t even fully undressed yet. Beast watched as she slid the straps of her one-piece over her pale, freckled shoulders. She told herself he couldn’t see all that much, because dusk had faded into dark, and all they had were the pool lights.
But she knew better, because she could see every glorious inch of his gorgeous, toned flesh. So he could see her heavy, full breasts as she peeled her slimming—or so her mother claimed—black, one-piece suit down to her navel. Getting it over her hips required wiggling, and she saw Beast’s gaze shift to her breasts as they swayed, her pink, puffy nipples hardening in the night air.
Once the suit was past the swell of her hips and down her thighs, it was easy to step out of. Tilly wasn’t shaved down there—just neatly trimmed, her drapes most definitely matching the carpet. She saw him glance there, too. He was turned away from Frankie, so her friend couldn’t see the look in his eyes, but Tilly did. Beast didn’t seem to make an effort to hide it, although Tilly wondered at that, because his expression had always been guarded around her since he’d been home.
Maybe he can’t hide it.
That thought brought her gaze up to meet his. There was something dark in his eyes. It made the lids heavy, and his mouth parted slightly, his tongue touching his lower lip just briefly as he let his gaze move down her body again.
He looked like he could have eaten her alive.
“Don’t just stand there like the Greek god you are, Beast, jump in!” Frankie shouted.
“Beast,” Tilly whispered. She blinked at him, feeling suddenly dizzy, not knowing if it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way he looked at her. Her knees felt wobbly, unsteady.
Then he had her in his arms. It was just like when he’d picked her up and carried her into the house that night. No warning. One minute, Tilly was on her feet—the next, she was in Beast’s arms. A running couple of steps, and they were both in the air, and then plunging down into the water.
Tilly forgot her embarrassment as she came up, laughing and splashing him. He laughed and splashed her back. It was a good thing, she thought, that her mother’s room wasn’t at the back of the house, or she might probably hear them making so much noise.
And it was a good thing, to hear Beast laugh. It, strangely, made her want to cry.
They all swam around for a while, laughing and splashing, racing each other back and forth. There was a lot of flirting going on, especially on Frankie’s part. Drunk Frankie was always flirty, but she was particularly persistent tonight, Tilly noticed. Maybe because Beast had indulged them. He was playing around, treating them like friends instead of annoying, pesky little gnats that liked to flit around and bother him.
So Beast gave them an inch—and Frankie wanted to take a mile. With Frankie completely naked, paddling around in the pool, Tilly realized her friend thought she was irresistible. And, to be fair, the girl was gorgeous. Flawless, really. But the more Frankie pressed Beast, the further he seemed to get from her.
“Come on, Superman,” Frankie purred, coming up behind him, her hands moving up over the hard planes of his back, curling her arms around him, palms pressed flat on his pecs. “Let me take a dive off your shoulders.”
Beast had told her no three times already, but she wasn’t giving up. Frankie managed to climb up onto his shoulders. He steadied her, but still, it was remarkable that she was able to do it at all. She stood up, wobbly, and made a clumsy dive back into the pool. For a minute, Tilly was really afraid she was going to hurt herself.
“Oh, that was good for me, how about you?” Frankie came swimming back up to Beast again. She couldn’t keep her hands off him.
Beast rebuffed her, and Tilly saw something flash in Frankie’s eyes. That wasn’t good. Then, her friend began to get comically pouty, which Tilly always recognized as a bad sign. Frankie getting comically pouty usually meant drama ahead.
“Fine, be that way!” Frankie called, leaning back and floating, talking to the stars. “I’ve got a new guy anyway, and he’s older and richer and better than you any day.”
“Maybe he’s more Italian than me, too?” It was Beast’s lame attempt at a polite joke. He glanced at Tilly when he said it and she gave him a smile for his effort.
“No, but he does drive a Bugatti—not a stupid old Mustang.”
“A Bugatti?” Beast’s ears seemed to perk up at that. “Who is this guy?”
“That got your attention.” Frankie righted herself in the water, a smug smile spreading across her face. “He’s stinking rich. And lots of fun, not like someone we know...”
“Okay.” Beast waved her insults away. “But who is it?”
“Erich, duh!” Frankie rolled her eyes skyward. “You know, the guy who owns the club where you keep all your precious secrets?”
“Oh fuck me.” Beast swore under his breath, his eyes going wide for just a moment. Then he lunged for Frankie, grabbing her by the arm. “Listen to me. I’m not fucking around. You can’t date him.”
Tilly shrank back against the side of the pool, watching the scene unfold, breath held.
“What the fuck?” Frankie tried to shake him loose, but he kept tight hold of her arm. She looked up at him, her expression both aghast and indignant. “You can’t tell me who I can date!”
“He’s bad news, Frankie,” Beast growled. “No fucking way.”
Goddamnit, Beast. Tilly pleaded silently with him, knowing if she interrupted this bit of drama, it probably wouldn’t help anything. She was helpless to stop where it was going, but she knew it was heading to bad places.
In typical Beast-like fashion, he was going about this in the perfectly wrong way. It was probably better for everyone that he’d become a soldier, because he would have made a horrible diplomat.
Tilly looked between the two of them, aware that she had two of the most strong-willed people she’d ever known—with the possible exception of her mother—before her, and the worst thing in the world that could happen was for one of them to “forbid” the other. But that’s just what Beast was doing.
“Jealous?” Frankie smirked suddenly, narrowing her eyes at him. “Jesus Christ, you’re a piece of work. You love your secrets, don’t you? What, you want to keep The Block and Erich all for yourself? Got a little bromance going on?”
“Fuck you, Frankie.” He let her go, turning away, dismissing her. Tilly saw the anger in his eyes, his mouth twisted with rage.
“Fuck you, Beast!” Frankie spat back. “I’ll date whoever I want!”
“No. Not him.” Beast shook his head. “Over my fucking dead body.”
“Beast,” Tilly tried to intervene, taking a step toward him. His gaze was dark, deadly, as he turned to look at her. He looked like he could have happily torn someone limb from limb at that moment. “Don’t—”
“Just who the fucking hell do you think you are?” Frankie was already climbing out of the pool, calling insults back over her shoulder at him. Tilly wasn’t paying attention to most of them—and some of them were in Italian, anyway. Beast was so angry, he was shaking again. She’d seen him like that when he carried her out of the club—the secret, Bottom Floor one—and now she was seeing it again.
Tilly reached him, putting a hand on his chest. He was literally trembling.
“Fuck you, buttmunch!” Frankie snapped one last insult before wrapping herself in a towel and storming toward the house.
“Now see what you did?” Tilly sighed. “I should probably go after her.”
“Go.” He turned away from her, wading through the water toward the other side of the pool.
Tilly hesitated, reluctant to leave him. Frankie would expect her to follow—and she would—but maybe, she thought, I can get him to tell me something. Because if Erich really was bad news, for some actual, real, tangible reason, and not just because, as Frankie had implied, Beast wanted to keep his private and professional lives separate—well, then Tilly needed to know. Frankie need to know.
Tilly contemplated Beast, who was leaning back, arms stretched out on the edge of the pool ledge, looking across the water at her. But he wasn’t looking at her, not really. He was looking through her.
She paddled over to him, hanging onto the edge of the pool to stay afloat. He glanced at her, but didn’t say anything.
“Tell me,” she said. “What’s up with Erich? I thought you two were friends?”
Beast just shrugged and shook his head, staring off into the night.
“Didn’t you serve together?” This was something Frankie had mentioned to her, actually. Beast didn’t seem surprised she knew, though.
He shrugged again, but this time she got a nod. “Yeah.”
“So?” she prompted. He didn’t say anything and she sighed, frustrated. She was just going to have to get used to being shut out, she realized. He wasn’t going to ever tell her. Anything. Ever again.
Tilly felt tears stinging her eyes and she turned to go, ready to swim away and leave him alone—just like he wanted her to.
But he touched her shoulder, pulling her back.
“I just…” He sighed, rolling his eyes skyward, giving a low, pained sound. “I just don’t want Frankie getting involved in all that. Okay?”
She shook her head, wondering if he had any idea how he sounded. He acted like he was the boss of everything. Like he was the one calling all the shots. He might have been concerned for Frankie—but the way he expressed it was all backwards. Less a concern over the welfare of his sister’s friend than a sense he had the right to make decisions for her, simply because she was his sister’s friend.
No wonder he’d pissed Frankie off so much.
“You mean the club, the basement and all that?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a nod.
“But you do it, and it’s okay?” Tilly reminded him, shaking her head in disbelief. “What is this, some sort of good ol’ boys thing?”
He had no answer.
“I think that’s kind of hypocritical. It’s bad enough you want to make decisions for me, but Frankie?”
Beast was silent, staring into the darkness.
“Frankie wants to do it,” she told him softly. “And when Frankie wants something. Well, she’s Frankie.”
“Fuck that.” He sighed, but it wasn’t a resigned sigh. He sounded like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Tilly hesitated, not sure if she should tell him, but she did anyway. “Frankie says she’s going to train as a submissive. Erich wants to train her.”
Beast shook his head. Tilly looked at him closely. His gaze was fixed at some point on the fence far away. He had a way of withdrawing and not needing to give explanations, even when explanations seemed most necessary.
She swallowed. “So… what if I wanted to do it?”
“Do what?” He turned his head to look at her, blinking in surprise.
“Train.” Was she really saying this out loud? She’d been turning it over in her head ever since Frankie had mentioned the idea. “As a submissive. There was a guy at the club, Mark, he said I was—”
“No!” Beast exploded, grabbing her by the shoulders. They were in the deep end, and she couldn’t touch, but he could. “Out of the question.”
“You’re not my father,” she reminded him softly. “You’re not even my brother.”
Tilly thought that Beast might get angry at that, but he didn’t seem to.
At least, not any angrier than he already was.
The two of them stood that way for a moment, in the water. The moon had come out, and its light mixed in strange ways with the pool lights, dancing on the little waves the two of them made on the surface. Beast seemed about to say something, then thought better of it, and was silent.
“Cat got your tongue?” Tilly asked.
Beast shook his head.
“Cat o’ nine tails, maybe?” It was a stupid joke, but she couldn�
�t help herself. It was his damned exaggerated seriousness getting to her again. But Tilly realized her little joke was also an attempt to push something out of her mind that she kind of wished would go away.
Kind of.
Tilly added a little coda to the joke that had not gone over very well by making a cat scratch gesture and going, “meowrr.” Beast gave her the shadow of a tolerant smile and nodded his head ever so slightly. He wasn’t looking at her, but still at that same point on the distant fence.
“So.” She took a deep breath, swimming around him. “What’s it like, then. The lifestyle? Or is Mr. Velcro Lips still unapproachable on the topic?”
“You know better than to ask me that, Tilly.”