My Sister's Boyfriend (The Trouble With Twins 1) (16 page)

“Hardly. The limo will pick you up at six tomorrow evening. Dress formal."

#

The doorbell rang, and Brent hurried to the door. The limo driver stood waiting for him. He took a last glance in the mirror in the hall at his tuxedo, checking his tie one more time. He opened the door.

"Dr. Moulton?" the driver asked.

"Yes."

"Miss Riley is waiting in the limo for you," the driver informed him, and Brent closed the door behind him, wondering what Jennifer had planned for their date.

He was still awed and honored at how much money she'd donated to the hospital for a date with him. Somehow he knew tonight would be interesting. If she was still angry about the bachelor auction, he would be at her mercy. Yet somehow he didn’t think her capable of being mean spirited. They would have a good time, and he was looking forward to the night.

The driver opened the car door for him and he glanced inside to see Jennifer wearing the black chiffon dress she'd worn when she jumped out of the coffin. That night now seemed so long ago though three months had barely passed.

Brent let out a low whistle. "Wow! Fantasies do come true."

She raised her brows and smiled. "This is just the first of many surprises tonight."

He slid into the car and the driver shut the door behind him while he let his eyes feast upon her. Unable to resist, he leaned over and kissed her, savoring her moist lips. Making himself a promise that there would be more kissing later, he reluctantly released her. Trying to slow his breathing, he leaned back against the seat, his nostrils filled with her soft musk perfume.

You look great,” he said, his hand along the back of the seat, touching her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she replied. “You look pretty good yourself.”

A bucket of ice held a champagne bottle, and for a moment he thought he might need to place a piece of ice against his skin to cool himself off. Even better would be to trail the icy cube down Jennifer's low-cut dress. Later, he reminded himself.

Brent hoped the evening would be a slow foreplay that culminated with the two of them back at his place, ensconced in his king-size bed. However, that would depend on what transpired this evening.

"You mentioned surprises?" he asked, remaining close.

Opening her evening bag, she pulled out a deck of cards. "Yes, I wondered what we could do to entertain ourselves for the next two hours on our trip to Dallas. So we're going to play truth or dare, or strip and go naked. Winner’s choice."

Brent felt his pulse leap at the thought of peeling her out of that dress. The window between them and the driver was up, the privacy shield firmly in place.

"Would you care to explain this game?"

"Sure. You open the bottle of champagne and I'll explain the rules."

Brent pulled the bottle from the ice bucket, twisted open the metal wiring, and then gently eased out the cork. A pop resounded in the moving car.

"We play blackjack, and when you lose a hand, the winning player gets to either ask a personal question and play truth or dare, or the loser must remove an article of clothing, jewelry, etc."

He laughed, feeling very confident as he poured champagne in the crystal flutes. "I'm a very good card player."

"So am I," she promised.

"But can you beat me?"

"I'm going to do my best." She shuffled the cards. "I'll be the dealer, and you're playing against me. I must stand at seventeen. And may the best card player win either the answer to all of his or her questions or see a large amount of skin."

"Okay, deal the cards," he said, leaning over and handing her a glass of champagne.

She placed the flute in a cup holder and dealt the cards. The first card he picked up was an ace, a portent of things to come, he hoped. When he won this hand, would he play truth or dare or would he ask her to remove a piece of clothing?

Definitely clothing.

The next card was a king. He smiled and turned his cards over.

Jennifer saw his blackjack and raised her brows. "So what would you like to do, play truth or dare or have me remove something?"

"Remove something." He smiled, enjoying this game and the thought of seeing her undress. If he had his way, he’d have her naked by the time they reached Dallas.

"So what happens when we get to dinner? Does the loser get to put his clothes back on?"

She raised her brows at him. "Clothing that covers the vitals, yes. Undergarments optional."

He couldn’t help but grin. "Well, I wanted to be certain. I feared us going down the highway leaving a trail of clothes behind.”

"And have the state troopers pull us over?" she questioned. "Think again."

"So hurry up and take something off so we can get on to the next item."

Reaching up to her ear, she removed an earring and laid it next to the cards.

"Hey I thought you said clothing."

"I also mentioned jewelry."

He frowned. "We'll just have to keep playing until I see skin."

Jennifer dealt the next hand, and this time, he lost. He glanced up at her expectantly, knowing instinctively she was going to play truth or dare.

"So which one, truth or dare?" he asked.

"Truth," she replied. "Back in high school you dated my sister. Do you still have any interest in her?"

This game could become dangerous. Did she know about him and Julia and hoped he would confess? Should he tell her about sleeping with her sister? No. He wanted to have fun with Jennifer tonight, not argue over something he'd done as a teenager. Julia was a sweet memory, but this was their date and he didn’t want to think of Julia tonight, only Jennifer.

"That was years ago and whatever interest I had in Julia is no longer there," he answered truthfully, skirting the issue of his past with her sister.

She picked up her champagne glass. "Good answer, Brent."

He clinked his glass against hers. "Now deal the cards. I have another earring I need to have you remove before we get to the good stuff."

She smiled. "We'll see."

Jennifer dealt the cards and won again. Frustrated at losing twice in a row, Brent watched her decide whether to ask for clothing or another question.

"This time I think I'm going to request you remove a piece of clothing," she said.

“No problem,” he said as he removed a cuff link.

She shook her head. “I knew you were going to remove something so inconsequential that I almost dared you to let your inhibitions go and experience whatever happens tonight."

He grinned. “I tell you what. I’ll do both just for you."

She smiled. "You don't know what I have planned."

"And you don't know how much I wanted this date with you," he replied, knowing it was true. He enjoyed being with her and had wanted this date for a long time.

"Just remember, you said you wanted to get wet."

A grin spread across his face. "I'm game for whatever waterworks you have planned."

Jennifer sent him a wicked smile, and he felt a trickle of unease.

"Deal the cards. I'm falling behind."

Two hands later, she'd lost both of her earrings, but the next hand went in her favor as she turned up a blackjack.

"You've sworn off marriage, but have you had any serious relationships since high school?"

"I dated one girl in college for six months before I found out she was telling everyone we were engaged. So I quickly ended that relationship. Since then no engagements, no marriages, no babies, no STDs. I'm very safe."

For the next two hours they played until the bottle of champagne was almost completely gone and they were each down to having to remove a revealing piece of clothing.

Brent dealt the next hand, knowing this time if he won, she would have to remove something that showed skin.

"Okay," he said, flipping the cards up to show she had a ten. He peeked at his own cards to see a ten and a seven. It all rested on her down card. If it were a low number, she'd be forced to take another card.

A frown marred her forehead, and she motioned with her hand that she needed another card. He dealt it face up to reveal a nine. She had nineteen showing.

With a confident smile, he watched as she turned over her down card. She revealed a four, which gave her twenty-three. He'd won!

He flipped his cards over to expose his seventeen.

"Truth or dare, or a piece of clothing?" she asked reluctantly.

Brent laughed. "You're down to skin, so I say remove a piece of clothing."

The driver came on the intercom between them. "Miss Riley, we're about ten minutes away."

Brent groaned. He'd seen the skyline of Dallas approaching and knew they were close.

"Thanks," she said.

She turned and faced him, picking up her jewelry and putting her earrings back on. "You heard the driver, we're almost there."

"But you did lose, and you still have to remove something."

"All right," she said with a knowing smirk.

She reached up under her long dress, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. She must have a slip on that he couldn't see. Something that would keep her from having to remove the dress.

Jennifer rose up and shimmied her hips in a move that sent his pulse rate into overdrive. She gave a little kick with her feet, reached down and held up black silk thong panties.

He stared in disbelief as she reached over and stuffed them in an inside pocket of his tuxedo.

"A little memento of tonight from me to you," she said, still leaning on his side of the car.

He took a deep breath and nuzzled her neck with his lips. "You're very good at this."

She leaned back and raised her brows in surprise at him. "No, you're very susceptible."

"That, too. You're going to torture me during dinner with the thought that you're going commando."

She blushed and flashed him a knowing smirk. "And I'll enjoy every minute."

"I'll have to think of an appropriate retaliation for later," he taunted.

The limo came to a halt, and they moved apart. Brent grabbed his tie and cuff links and began to put himself back together. Jennifer leaned over and adjusted his crooked bowtie.

"There. Come on, let's go eat, or we're going to be late to the next part of our date."

"Good, I'm starving," he said, watching her slip her feet back into her heels. "For food and for you."

#

Several hours later, Brent stood with Jennifer outside a club called Bubbles and wondered what he'd gotten into.

"Why is it called Bubbles?" he asked.

"You'll soon find out," she responded over the sound of the wildly pulsating music.

They paid the entry fee and the bouncer let them go through the door. At first he could barely see as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, but then what he saw had him laughing aloud. Around the walls, chairs and tables were filled with people watching dancers in a pit that was filled with foam and bubbles at least waist high. Bubbles floated on the air around the dance area.

The dancers were wet, wild, and gyrating to a sensual beat as color strobe lights flashed around them. Drenched, their clingy clothing left little to the imagination as they danced, their inhibitions vanishing in the pounding rhythm.

"Well?" she said her eyes on him. "Are you ready to get wet together?"

He stared at her. How could he resist? She looked cute, and sexy as hell. And he could hardly wait to see her in wet chiffon.

He grabbed her hand and started down the stairs. "Come on, I see an open spot on the dance floor, and my wet fantasies are calling me."

She giggled, and they skipped down the stairs. When they reached the pit, the floor was slick as they carefully mingled with the dancers.

Foam oozed around his legs, clinging to his tuxedo, but he didn’t care as he navigated them through the gyrating dancers. In one corner, a big gun spewed bubbles down on the dancers. When they reached an open area, Brent went into a swing dance, but quickly learned that was not possible on the slick floor. He switched to modern shag, but he wasn't touching her and he needed to feel her against him.

He grabbed her by the waist and brought one leg in between hers, and soon they were doing their own version of dirty dancing. And it felt good, damn good, as he stared into her soft blue eyes, knowing that the two hour ride home would be the longest ride of his life.

Scooping up a handful of bubbles, he put some on top of her head to form a soapy crown.

"Queen Jennifer," he shouted.

"And her royal subject," she mouthed as she plastered a handful of bubbles against his chest, soaking him. He swallowed trying to control the raw sexual need that filled him as she moved against his leg to a sensual rhythm. Slowly she ran her hand down his wet shirt, leaving behind a trail of heat that centered in his groin area.

Holding onto her waist, he leaned her back into the foam, soaking her back before turning her around to soak the front of her dress and then pulling her up solid against him.

When he twirled her back, she had foam from her nose down to her waist. And her dress clearly outlined her pointed nipples. She stood up and danced against him, rubbing her body around him, soaking him clear to his skin, infusing him with her heat.

He ran his hands down her arms, her slick, wet skin doing things to him he'd never considered before. His hands continued down her chest, his fingers brushing against her hardened nubs, and he considered finding a hotel room and staying in the city tonight.

Would she stay with him?

Brent couldn't resist any longer. He pulled her into his arms, dancing slowly with her. Though the music around them pulsed with a hard rock beat, he danced to his own rhythm. A dance that would soon find them naked in a bed together.

He tilted her head up to his, and his mouth covered hers with a hunger that he felt from some deep inner core. She tasted like longing and need and a mixture of the chocolate dessert they'd shared at dinner. She tasted like heaven, her lips soft as he plundered them, needing her now.

He released her mouth, but still held her tight against him, her wet, slick body fitting perfectly with his own. On the crowded floor, he'd been ensconced in his own world, but suddenly he thought there were too many people, too many bodies pressing in close to them. He needed some privacy.