Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (6 page)

I smiled and began humming the song. “Cor?”

“Yeah? Hang on, I’ll be there in a minute,” she called from just outside the change-room entry.

Swaying my hips, I danced toward the door, singing the introductory words of the “Cell Block Tango”.
Pop. Six. Squish. Uh uh. Cicero. Lipshitz
. When I reached the door, I thought I would treat my gorgeous friend to a preview of my show performance by spinning into the shop and slamming my back against the doorframe, hand on my hip, my leg pointed to the side. Cori normally loved my impromptu performances, but maybe not so much in public. Regardless, she loved them.

Dramatically stepping my foot to the beat in my head while singing about the death of my character’s husband and how he only had himself to blame, I looked up, and that was when I noticed Cori wasn’t alone. Nope. With her were Josh, Brad, Noah and Dimps, all of them wearing surprise in the form of wide eyes—really fucking wide eyes.
Shit-fuck!

I froze and my jaw dropped, but I only had a split second to make one of two choices. One: slowly back myself into the change room and never come out. Or two: continue my sexy tango and perform the shit out of it.

I chose the latter.

Relaxing my deer-in-headlights expression, I fell into character, focussing my stare on Brad while lifting the corner of my mouth seductively. I step-dragged toward him slowly, continuing to sing that if he’d been there and seen what my character’s husband had put her through, he would’ve killed the bastard, too.

He swallowed.

I winked.

Continuing my act, I step-dragged Brad in a circular motion, trailing the tip of my finger across his chest, shoulders and back, his deep inhale not going unnoticed. If anything, his intake of breath drew my attention to his mouth for a split second before I spun, stopped abruptly, and pressed my back against his front.

Brad’s heartbeat tapped a rhythm on my shoulder, and warmth filtered from his body into my own. It felt good, exciting—my knees near buckling—so I slid down his chest and abdomen, bent forward, pushed my arse into his groin, and slid back up again.

He hardened instantly.

Oh. My. Vagina!

Considering we were in a swimsuit shop with Cori, Josh, Noah, Dimps and other random people watching with amused and intrigued expressions, I had to step away. I didn’t want to, though. In fact, I would’ve been more than happy to continue arousing his trouser snake with my swaying arse until it rose from within his pants like a fucking cobra and hissed at me.

Ssssss …
I liked trouser snakes, especially the feisty ones.

Creating some much-needed distance from Brad, I moved toward Cori and Josh and performed a tilt, kicking my leg up vertically to brush my ear while delivering the recitative speech section of the song.

Cori giggled and clapped, encouraging me as I confessed my character’s crime, explaining that her husband had been popping his gum while I continued to move through first, second, third, fourth and fifth positions of ballet. I turned, tilted, held leg raises, and explained that the popping was driving my character so mad that she threatened him if he were to do it again.

Funnily enough, not one person interrupted my performance or made a joke. They just watched quietly—bar Cori—as I moved from one position to the other while narrating my character’s sequence of events. It was excellent—embarrassment over my initial charade was non-existent.

Zeroing in on Dimps, I stepped up to his side and leaned against him, sliding down his leg and practically using it as if I were a pole dancer. He didn’t seem to mind and even offered his hand for extra support as I grinded against him. That was when I broke character for a split second, laughed, and thanked him for his assistance. I then placed a quick kiss on his cheek and moved on to Noah.

One word …

Incineration.

Noah’s eyes seared my skin and raised my body temperature, and that was just with his stare. It was unwavering, purposeful …
intense
. It was fucking dangerous.

Knowing I should skip him and return to Brad, I decided instead to play his sexy heated-stare game, piercing him with a scorching look of my own while performing a deliberately slow fan-kick so that he could glimpse my swimsuit-covered pussy. His stare on my face wavered and he grinned, so I celebrated internally and continued to narrate that my character pulled out her gun and shot her husband in the head when he continued to pop his gum after being warned no to do so. It was also the point where I pretended to fire two bullets at Noah, and blew the imaginary gun smoke from my pistol-hand.

He pouted.
Adorable
.

Before I could turn around and finish my spectacle with one final display for Brad, his hard body pressed against my back and warm breath caress my ear. Brad’s hand quickly found mine and spun me away from him before abruptly reeling me in, my chest flush with his. The move caught me by surprise, and I lost my bearings, all of a sudden adrift within the sound of my beating heart and enchanted by the lust blaring from his eyes.

Brad’s frame was poised. Dominant. Perfect. He was in control of the moment and me, and it was beyond hot. I wanted to kiss him, to press my aching lips against his and feel his tongue slide against mine. I wanted to taste him, drink him in, and be privy to his body’s capabilities. I wanted everyone to fuck off so that I could experience all of those things.

Gliding his hand over mine, our palms connected and our fingers clamped down. His other hand found the centre of my back and locked us into position, ready to tango. I was a trained dancer and had been since I was a child, so my body automatically snapped out of its bewilderment and reacted, my hand settling on his shoulder, my chin tilting upright, and the continuation of the song leaving my mouth.

As I sang once again, about the death of my character’s husband being warranted, Brad stepped backwards and I followed, stepping forward. We both stepped to the side, then it was my turn to be guided backwards. I followed his lead, his embrace, our eyes never leaving one another’s. I let him move me around the small open space outside the change room, cross-walking and kicking my foot around his as we spun.

The joy I felt within couldn’t be suppressed, and a huge smile formed across my face. I loved the Argentine tango, the embrace of two bodies moving with perfect synchronisation. But it wasn’t just the physical movement of the dance that I adored; it was the psychology, the passion … the dance of courtship.

Damn, he was good. And I meant
really
good. His motion was fluent and controlled, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t shocked by just how skilled he was. Yeah, he was a professional dancer, but striptease was a far cry from a highly disciplined and evolved street dance.

Repeating the final lyrics, my softened tone indicated the conclusion of the song, which was when Brad dipped me and held me suspended, his lips a whisper on the skin of my neck. I closed my eyes, savouring the delicate near-touch of his mouth until the applause of our bystanders erupted.

My reclined position was pulled upright, and I soon found myself standing before Brad, a shit-eating grin on his face as he bowed for our audience while kissing my hand.
Holy shitballs in hell.
Heat from said underworld surfaced on my face, and I pulled away just slightly to brush down my swimsuit. Why? I have no fucking idea. There was nothing to ‘brush down’ in the first place.

“Uh … uh,” I stuttered.

My sight flicked in the direction of Brad before I squared my shoulders and turned around, drawing upon my acting skills and garnering as much faux confidence as I could with the sashay of my hips. “Cori, just so you know,” I said, keeping my back to all of them as I walked toward the change room, “I’m not buying the swimsuit.”

Truth was, the swimsuit was a sure buy.

It. Was. Fucking. Drenched.

There are moments in life when a switch flicks, and what was is no longer, or what has become was never expected. Those moments are normally accompanied by an intense thud of your heart, the prickle of your skin, or the brief closure of your eyes to regain some form of semblance—those moments normally come out of nowhere and stop you in your tracks.

I was currently having one of those moments as I leaned against the mirror in my change-room cubicle, swimsuit removed and dangling from my hands.
What the fuck of all fucks was that?

His eyes.

His touch.

The way he moved.

All of it.

Shit!
Peeking through the curtains, I checked to see if anyone was waiting for me in the change room. They didn’t.
Oh thank God.

“Em, hurry up. We’re gonna head to the beach,” Cori squawked from her position out in the shop.

Her out-of-nowhere yell scared the crap out of me, so I quickly retreated into the cubicle like a turtle into its shell. “I’m coming. Give me a sec,” I shouted back, hand on my heaving chest.

Brad and his tango trance had shaken me up a little, and I couldn’t exactly say why. Yeah, there had been tingles travelling through my body, goosebumps appearing on my skin, and multiple breaths held with anticipation. But what I was feeling was more than all of that. It was more than a physical reaction to an intense and sexy situation. Or was it?

I didn’t know. I was little confused by our chemistry. It was insane, that was what it was.
Come on, Em. Get yourself together. What is wrong with you?
I shook my head, scruffed my hair and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before exiting the change room.

As I entered the shop, the first thing I noticed was the absence of Brad, and my heart deflated a little.
Where’d he go?

“He’s gone to the toilet,” Cori whispered from behind me.

Startled, I turned around, finding a rather large grin on her face. “Jesus, Cor, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t. I was already here.”

I glared at her but didn’t continue the conversation, instead handing the swimsuit to the sales assistant.

Cori selected a pair of sunglasses from a counter stand and put them on. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna buy it.”

“I changed my mind,” I answered flippantly, trying to out-smug her smuggy self.

She pulled a duck-face in the mirror. “Uh-huh.”

Bitch!
I tried not to smile, but she wore smartarse just as well as I did.

“Ladies. Thoughts, you must give me.”

We both turned around to find Noah modelling a pink bikini, the top draped across his chest as it dangled from the hanger sat over his head. He’d pressed the bottom part of the swimsuit against his groin and held it there, his foot slightly kicked to the side in a pose.

I bit my lip. “Pink looks good on you. You should wear it more often.”

“Tiny dancer, you have no idea how good pink bits look on me.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Oh no. You are not calling me ‘tiny dancer’, Mr.

Cori scoffed and returned the sunglasses to the stand, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. He looked ridiculous, and his mentioning of pink bits did not help his cause.

“Um … that will be eighty-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents,” the assistant said sheepishly, interrupting before I could reply about not wanting to see any bits of the pink variety, nor wanting to be nicknamed Tiny Dancer—even though I liked the song.

“Yes. Sorry.” I turned back around to pay her the attention she deserved, only to find that her attention wasn’t fixed on me, instead glued solely on Noah. “He looks better without the bikini on,” I stated, fishing through my purse for my credit card.

Cori laughed. “He looks better without
anything
on.”

Dimps stepped up beside us and spun the sunglasses stand with a flick of his finger. “It’s true; he does.”

The honest expression he wore was priceless, but it was the sales assistant’s shade of raspberry that was by far funnier.

“Oh,” she choked out. “That’s nice. Good on you both.” Her smile was overly encouraging.

Lips pursed.

Eyes blinked.

And Noah, Cori and I all exchanged glances—outbursts pending. Unable to hold it in any longer, my mouth arched into a smile and my shoulders shook as laughter racked my body. Cori, too, erupted into uncontrollable giggles.

“Dude!” Noah exclaimed, turning to Dimps while trying to yank off the bathing suit caught around his head. “The sales chick now thinks we’re gay, you idiot.”

Dimps’s brow furrowed, but then realisation appeared to dawn on him when his eyebrows lifted. “We’re not gay, just so you know,” he explained. “And even if we were, he’s not my type.”

Noah stopped his dance of detanglement. “Hey! Why not?” He continued, making it even worse. “Being attacked, I am. Death by pink bikini, I will suffer.”

Dimps went to his aid, but Noah put his hand out. “Don’t even think about trying to take clothes off of me. Implied enough, you have.”

I shook my head at his stupid cuteness. “Come here,” I said, reaching for him and detangling the bikini from the chain around his neck. “I thought you were meant to be a professional when it came to removing your clothes.”

His finger traced the top of my shoulder and stopped to lift the strap of my singlet top. “I’m better at removing other people’s clothing, sweet cheeks.”

Noah’s touch increased blood flow throughout my body, but strangely enough, that was all it did. Now, don’t get me wrong, the man was all kinds of vagina happiness—strong, defined jaw, ocean blue eyes, tattooed tanned skin, and golden hair pulled away from his face offering an edge of confident sex appeal. But how I felt about Noah was just that—looks. For me, they weren’t everything, even though you had to like what you saw, because no one wanted to dry retch every time they rolled over in bed and came face-to-face with their fuck buddy. Looks were merely packaging, and nobody ever ate the packaging. It was just for show, to advertise … to attract. It were the contents within that cured the hunger.

Taking a step back, I gently removed his finger. “Well perhaps you should’ve been a nurse.”

“Now that’s an idea,” Brad interrupted, stopping beside us and placing his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

Noah shrugged it loose. “What?”

“You as a nurse … on stage! Your costume would be hot.”

“Fuck you, cocksucker.”

Brad smirked before his eyes met mine, and there was something different within them. His look of playful lust and the excitement I felt as a result of it was still present, but there was now an added softness to his stare—one of recognition that shone before he blinked it away.

I blushed and avoided his gaze, proceeding to swipe my credit card and finalise my purchase when suddenly, warmth travelled the length of my spine as his body brushed my back and his lips tickled my earlobe.

I froze, and somehow near combusted.

“You bought the swimsuit,” he murmured.

“Yes.” That one simple word was all I could manage, and thankfully, was all that was needed.

“Good. Because if you hadn’t, I would’ve.”

Realising he wasn’t going to move away anytime soon, and not knowing if I actually wanted him to or not, I did what I always did to gain the upper hand—I drew upon my inner smartarse. “I didn’t know you liked to wear mesh swimsuits.”

The pressure of his body against my back strengthened, and I even stumbled forward just slightly before placing my hands down on the counter.
Oh God!
The assertive dominance dripping from him was hot, and I couldn’t help but bend forward a little and press my arse into his groin.

Brad growled quietly, but a growl all the same. And fuck me over the rainbow if it wasn’t the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. I wanted him to take me there and then, over the counter. I wanted him to grab a fist full of my hair and pull me upright while he drilled me to within an inch of my life.

I wanted him to fuck me.

Damn, I need a session with BOB, and soon. Real soon.
 

“You guys are twins, right?” the sales assistant asked.

Brad stepped back, and that was when her stupid question and equally stupid voice snapped me out of my stupid amorous bend-me-over-the-counter cloud.

“Yep,” he answered, politely.

I took the bag from her and turned, finding Brad’s dilated pupils, Cori biting her lip, Josh looking as if he wanted to bite her lip too, and Noah glaring at Brad.

Shit! Where’s Dimps? Dimps is safe.

***

Sitting under the warm autumn sun, a mild breeze carried distant laughter along the beach. Children waited patiently by the water’s edge for waves to crash upon the shore and chase them to drier sand, and sunbathers basked in the heat blanketing their bodies while others cooled down in the crystal-clear water.

I sucked in the beach ambience with a large inhale, letting it out slowly and sighing appreciatively.

“So where did you learn to dance like that?” I asked Brad, who was lying on a towel beside me, propped up by his elbows. Cori, Josh, Noah, Dimps and Chief were in the water, throwing one of those skimming ball things where apparently the aim of the game was to have it bounce up and hit your opponent.

Chief was pretty good at it.

“My mum.” Brad sat up, took the bottle of sunscreen I had in my hands, and positioned himself behind me. “She was a ballroom dancer and now teaches children and young adults,” he explained, squeezing some lotion into his palm before rubbing it into my shoulders.

Damn did the man have hands of a god; large, soft, smooth and exploratory fingers that danced as they drew circles on my neck, lines down my back, and the air from my lungs.
Fuck!
His fingers drew my cognition into oblivion.

“She’s … a … d … dancer?” I stuttered, my tongue deciding it was too relaxed to do its job and help me speak.

“Yeah.” He chuckled and applied more pressure, the deep tissue penetration now a relaxing massage.

“Oh wow.” I moaned. “Your sunscreen application is so thorough.”

“Just don’t want you gettin’ burnt.”

“Uh huh. Surrrrrrre,” I purred, allowing my head to fall back and to the side, inviting his hands to extend their journey across my skin.

His fingers crept to the juncture at the base of my throat, fanning back and forth at the top of my cleavage and continuing to spread the lotion. “So how long have you been performing?”

“I’m four years out of my Bachelor degree at VCA. But if you were to include the time I studied, then it’s seven years. Mind you, I’ve been performing in one way or another since I was a child.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He squeezed some more lotion into his hand. “The way you sung and danced back at the shop … wow!”

“You weren’t too shabby yourself. Your mum is a pretty good instructor.”

“She’s actually won a few Australian Dancesport Championships.”

I twisted around to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah. When Noah and I were younger, she was pro.”

“Does your dad dance too?”

He laughed. “No. Dad’s a carpenter.”

Smiling, I couldn’t help but soak in his vibrant blue eyes and sturdy jawline, not to mention the most unbelievably defined traps and deltoid muscles imaginable. Seriously, they rose and fell in all the right places and were pure perfection, and I practically sighed as I mapped his chest and stored the mental image away for a revisit later on with BOB.

“I want you to touch me.”

My eyes snapped back to his. “What?”

“It’s my turn.” He handed me the bottle of lotion and winked. “Make sure you don’t miss any spots. My body is my tool of the trade.”

Shuffling to my knees, I turned around to face him and took the bottle out of his hands. “Oh, don’t you worry,” I said, popping the lid of lotion for emphasis. “I won’t miss a thing.”