She came out a few minutes later, wearing the suit.
I could barely look at her without embarrassing myself, that’s how sexy it was.
In fact, I made a point of not looking at her body after she had it on.
But I got enough of a look to have it burned into my memory.
Permanently.
It wasn’t that it was especially small. It was tiny, but I’d seen her wear tiny bikinis before. The triangles that covered her were about the normal size for a string bikini.
It was the strings that turned the thing into pure wickedness. They laced together over her cle**age up to the base of her neck, teasing along the skin, pulled taut over her pushed together cle**age, making each inch uncovered all the more sinful. The same effect of intertwined laces played over her hips, and right down to the V of material right over her sex.
And forget about the back.
It was too much, laces barely covering the top of her ass, looking like they might come apart at any second.
“You don’t wear a cover-up or anything?” I asked her, voice low and rough.
“Nope. Do you like the suit?”
I nodded, not looking at her. If I started talking about how she looked, even just to compliment her, I knew I’d be hard for an hour, so I didn’t say another word about it, willing my hard-on to go away by the time we got to the party.
On the way back to the car, I commented on the huge stack of cash I’d seen in her purse.
Of course, I knew what it was from, remembering well her gambling problem, but it seemed prudent to point it out. Perhaps I’d get a square answer from her, for once.
And I did. Disconcertingly so.
She shot me that level stare over the top of the car for a long moment before getting in.
“You know where that money’s from,” said Iris, finally. “You think I didn’t notice you following me all those nights?”
She said this just as I was starting the car. It stopped me in my tracks. I looked at her, shocked speechless for the longest time.
She’d known all along when I’d been following her, and hadn’t commented, hadn’t minded?
“You never said anything,” I pointed out.
She sighed. “Neither did you. I knew you were imagining I was up to worse things. I thought it would make you feel better to see that I wasn’t up to anything too troublesome.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Iris. A gambling problem is pretty damned troublesome.”
She grinned. “Gambling is only a problem if you lose. If you recall, I never lose.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I never had seen her lose.
I had my own theories about it, but I felt silly even thinking it, let alone asking.
“Were you ever a cigarette girl?” I asked, since she was actually handing out answers, for once.
“Never.”
“Where have you been for the last two months?”
I was sorry I asked, because the question effectively quelled that rare flow of information.
“Tammy is going to be there,” I told her when we were nearly at Turner’s house only just then remembering to warn her.
“You’re still going to parties with your ex-wife? You two getting along better now?”
I flushed. “Not at all. And I’m not going with her. I’m going, and I got wind that she’s crashing the thing. I just thought I should warn you.”
“So she’s still after you,” she said, her tone perfectly blank.
I had no idea what to say to that or even if it could be true.
It was five p.m. when we finally pulled up to Turner’s estate. The place was packed, music blasting in back that could be heard as you pulled onto the drive.
It was a madhouse, which I’d expected, but I found that it agitated me more now that I was bringing Iris into said madhouse.
Turner met us at the front door, shirtless and holding a cocktail. He was ripped, his tan chest gleaming. If it had just been us guys, I’d have immediately started ragging on him about oiling himself up. As it was, I didn’t want to draw any attention to his body, if there was any shot Iris hadn’t noticed on her own.
He grinned, clapping me on the back, then froze and blinked a few times as he caught sight of Iris.
“You must be Iris,” he guessed with a smile.
She beamed at him. She liked that I’d obviously been talking about her to him, though I hoped she never knew that I’d shared way too many specifics about our sex life.
I’d never been one to give out details like that, never before at least, but I’d started hanging out with Turner after she’d left, when I’d needed to vent, and so way too much information had been shared. My only excuse was that I needed someone to talk to, because I honestly thought I’d never see her again.
Still, I hoped she never found out just how explicitly familiar Turner was with the things she and I had done together.
“Dair has told me only the most wonderful things about you,” Turner told her engagingly, and without even asking, walked up and gave her a big, tight embrace—the perverted motherfucker.
“Holy shit,” he mouthed over her shoulder at me, the hug lingering a few beats more than I liked.
I gave him a less than friendly look, and he let her go, grinning unabashedly.
“I’m surprised you weren’t out back,” I told him, pulling Iris closer to me, throwing my arm over her shoulder. “Why you hanging out inside during your own party?”
He made a face. “Just random chance I was in here. Had a ten-minute conference call that couldn’t be avoided. You know how it is. Anyway, it’s done now, and I saved you a spot in the shade. This way.” He started moving through the house, and we followed, Iris still plastered to my side, tight enough that I could feel one ripe tit rubbing into my ribcage.
Fuck. I moved away from her in an effort not to embarrass myself.
Turner took us to the best seat in the house, a covered cabana with perfect views and access to the pool.
I took my shirt off, though I was in the shade, and I didn’t need to work on my tan. My natural coloring, combined with the fact that I swam outside nearly every day, took care of that.
A waiter came and got our drink orders almost instantly.
I ordered a Mai Tai, but Iris just asked for water.
Who did that?
A wild party girl who drank water instead of cocktails.
As always, she was a contradiction.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I found myself talking with Turner while Iris swam and mingled with the other people in the pool. She’d seemed restless as soon as we sat, so we’d cut her loose to play.