Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(72)

Oh. Wow. Okay then.

It was more tempting than I would have assumed it would be when I’d walked in, especially when Jace dealt that little surprise punch, but I shook my head and managed a charming smile to the guy.

“Thanks, but not tonight.”

He smiled back and walked away, and that was it.

When he was gone, I drew my hand off of Jace’s cock, but let it remain on his thigh.

“Why did you even ask me? Why didn’t you wave him off?”

He shrugged. “Because boundaries shift. What you thought you wanted in the car on the way here—which, to be fair, was pretty open-ended to begin with—might not be what you want now that we’ve been here a while. Plus, I wanted to see if subbing was your scene. I didn’t think so, but you never know.”

“Maybe a little bit when the mood strikes—you got pretty bossy on the Fourth, if I recall—but not really. I mean, I’m not quite as pure vanilla as Geoff and Robin, but I kind of f*cking resent the idea that because I’m smaller, younger, pretty, and femme, I’m an automatic bottom or sub.”

Jace’s eyes widened, his gaze flying to my face in astonishment. His complexion turned an alarming shade of puce and his eyes bulged before I realized he was choking on laughter. Gasping, he leaned back against the wall of the hot tub and wiped his streaming eyes.

“Oh Jesus.”

“What the hell is so funny?”

“Robin and Geoff, vanilla?” He dissolved into chuckles so hysterical he was damn near giggling. “Oh, angel, you have no idea.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “You asked Geoff why he didn’t have any tats the other day? He was giving you the family-friendly version. Truth is, he likes wearing marks of a different sort, if you know what I mean. Some pretty hard-core ones, too.”

“Holy shit.” I stared at him in consternation. With the exception of Robin’s tats, Geoff and Robin seemed as white-bread suburbanite as they could get. I couldn’t envision them being the least bit adventurous, much less— “Wow. I can’t even— Right.” I blinked a few times and tried to remember what I’d been saying. “Back to my original point about people assuming things about me . . .”

He laughed again, tightening his arm around my shoulders. “I nearly fell into that trap the first time, but you made damn sure I wouldn’t again.”

I smiled, very satisfied to hear that. “Good.”

Then he dropped his voice to a seductive murmur. “I will say, I don’t get my dom on all that often, but the idea that you’re here with me and everyone else can look and admire, but I’m the only one who gets to touch, is pushing that button for me. This whole proprietary riff isn’t just for your sense of security.” His hand slid up my inner thigh, stopping just short of my groin. “I like these guys thinking I’ve got that much claim on you, even if it’s only in their imaginations.”

I shifted, lifting my hips off the bench, brushing his hand with my cock. My teeth seized my bottom lip, stifling my moan at the contact, and my eyes fell shut. “That, um . . . I have to admit, that sounds a lot better tonight than it normally would.”

He drew in a breath, as though a surprising thought had occurred to him.

“Ah, so that’s what’s turning your crank tonight. Not the idea of seeing, but of being seen. Am I right? You want all these men, all of them, no matter how attractive or sleazy, just eating their hearts out over you, wanting you but unable to have you.” He laughed softly as my cock jumped. “You little exhibitionist.”

Oh shit. Suddenly I was so f*cking hard. I groaned and buried my face in his neck, laughing at my own ego.

“Yes. Yes, okay? That’s what I want. My vanity is ridiculous.” In my mind, the whole riff about being an embarrassment and drawing attention to myself began to play out, and I had to make myself shut up before it put me in a funk. I shook my head and sighed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“No, not stupid.” He kissed my sweaty, steam-damp forehead. “That’s terrific. I love that you know you’re hot enough to pull something like that off.”

He held me there a moment until my embarrassment began to fade, hastened by his reassurances. Then he took my hand and tugged me up out of the water.

“Come on. Let’s go check out the steam room.”





We were lost inside a scene

Where spirits called right out to me

And I could see them easily

For I was open to believe

There’s a waterfall of what could be

If I would heal the tragedies

Of a life where nothing ever seems to be easy

—Casey Stratton, “I Promise Love”

With my towel once more tucked around my waist—though my junk was considerably more visible beneath its concealment than it had been when we’d arrived—I let Jace squire me into the steam room. Once inside, though, I stopped in my tracks.

Mr. Not Unattractive Bear was in there. Had Jace known that?

Apparently he had, because he climbed up to the highest tile riser opposite the guy and scooted back, patting the space between his thighs. “Come sit here, angel.”

My pulse took up a nervous, unsteady flutter, and I think I was half a second away from bolting when I met Jace’s eyes. They were understanding, but there was also promise in them. Promise that he’d make sure I got whatever I wanted. Promise that he’d stop if what he had planned was too much. Promise that he would make it worth my while if I trusted him.