She closes her eyes and runs her fingertips along the hollow of her neck, a sigh leaving her as she sinks below the storm of bubbles. My breath blasts from my chest as she pops up from beneath the water, the sight of her dragging her tongue across her lips, her hands brushing her soaked hair away from her forehead, and the small smile on her face all fucking with my already-fucked mental state.
She opens her beautiful whiskey-hued orbs—their deep exotic shade nearly blinding me—and wags a finger at me and Brock, a healthy dose of warning encasing her expression. “So I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed some time to recoup before going at it again. Understand, twentieth-century cavemen?”
I dip my hand into the boiling pot of H2O, sure Amber’s flesh’s melting from her bones. “It’s you who’s the twentieth-century cavewoman.” I yank my hand out of the water and give her a shit-eating grin. “We’re simply innocent bystanders to something you just assumed was our intent.”
Amber sits up and wraps her arms around her bubble-covered knees. “Are you trying to get one past me by saying you two had no intention of having sex with me when you dragged me in here? Hmm, wiseass? Is that what you’re attempting to do?” Before I can nod in agreement, I’m the one who’s swathed in bubbles as Amber splashes me. “’Cause if so, that’s what I think of your failed attempt.”
With my free hand being utilized as a towel to dry my face, the other curses me out as I sink it into the awaiting lava, scooping a decent amount into my palm.
I smirk, enjoying the flash of fear in Amber’s eyes. “We’re going there, are we?”
“No!” Amber half squeaks, half giggles, regret painting her expression as she gauges mine. She cautiously reaches for my arm, rests it on the edge of the Jacuzzi, and pets it, seduction showering her tone as she turns on her charm. “I don’t know whatever could’ve come over me.” She bats her lashes, a coy pout puckering her lips. “I’m sorry, master. I truly am.” Another bat of her lashes, her pout turning into an I’ve got you now, prick smirk as she draws tiny figure eights along the inside crease of my elbow. “Maybe it’s sexually induced insanity? I mean, considering all the delicious things you boys did to me this evening, it’s quite possible I’ve sustained some kind of injury to my brain.” She lifts my hand to her lips, kissing my knuckles. “Puh-lease forgive me. I couldn’t go on without it.”
It’s enough the girl’s a walking eye-boner, but add knowing how to seduce a man—and seduce him very well—to her already-long list of appealing physical and mental attributes, and you’ve got yourself a deadly combination. Cock on heightened alert, unable to resist the cute yet sinful look on her face, and officially welcoming myself into the Amber’s turned me into a pansy club, I grin, caving like a certified pussy as I let the water slip through my fingers.
“I’ll let you off on this one,” I say with a mock frown, “but you severely missed the mark on your assumption. Having sex with you wasn’t in the playbook when we brought ya in here.”
“But in our defense,” Brock cuts in, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers, “you make it impossible not to turn into a predator. So, in my opinion, you’re the guilty one, not us.”
“I’m not convinced. Not even close. Still, I gotta give you both kudos for attempting to swoon me into believing your bullshit story.”
“It’s not bullshit, Ber.” Brock tucks a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear, his voice soft as he leans over, resting his lips on the crown of her head. “Like Ryder said, we didn’t bring you in here to sexually attack you.”
She pulls her brows together. “Well, why else would either of you bring me here, if not for the purpose of having sex with me again? Makes no sense. I mean, that’s what tonight was about. Sex. Nothing more, right? The two of you taking out your anger, frustration, fear, and stress on me, using my body as an outlet to bring you back down to the somewhat stable mental level you were at before . . .” She trails off as she gnaws on her thumbnail. “. . . before what you two were forced into doing to those men that night.”
Her eyes glass over as she looks between Brock and me, trembling. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. I—I apologize.” She takes a breath, her shoulders slumped as she shakes her head. “The point I’m trying to make is that neither of you has to make me feel like tonight was anything more than what it really was.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and plops into the water. My heart splits open as the raw pain emanating off her causes a swell of torture to rip through my muscles. “To be honest, all this . . . this act’s doing is making me feel like an idiot. So just cut it out, all right?”
Seemingly aware that she’s spilling her vulnerabilities—every one of her disturbed thoughts on display for Brock and I to dissect—a bolt of horror strikes through her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I overreacted. But it’s okay, really. I’m used to it. Sex has always been that for me. Just . . . sex. A mindless physical act with nothing attached to it.” Her hands shoot to her cheeks to swipe away her tears, her meek voice feigning composure as she continues to tremble like a withered leaf caught in a storm. “Before Brock came along, I was never treated special afterward. No flowers, chocolates, or calls the next morning. No spooning, following a long-winded proclamation of how much I’m needed. No . . . nothing.” She hugs her knees to her chest, a noncommittal shrug tugging her shoulder. “I guess I became used to it, and prefer it that way. So please, just . . . just keep it at that, okay?”