Why do I feel that whatever she’s got planned isn’t good news for me?
The other men and I go into what looks like a fancy-ass changing room.
“Well, so far this is better than I was expecting,” Blake says. “A friend of Virginia’s recommended the resort. She and her husband were here last month and couldn’t stop raving about it. That’s how we heard about the place. It’s also how we found out about the BDSM lessons and private rooms. They don’t advertise them on the website.”
He squirts the soap from the dispenser onto his hands. “What about you, Jayden? Are you and Isabelle into BDSM?”
“Can’t say that either of us has tried it.” I’m assuming Isabelle hasn’t.
Heck, I don’t think she has even readFifty Shades of Greyor watched the movie.
“What is BDSM?” Demek asks, his Russian accent coming in stronger than it had earlier.
Blake explains it to him, and Demek nods. “Ah yes, I am familiar with that concept.”
“I highly recommend at least taking a beginner’s lesson if you decide to extend your stay here,” Blake says to the other men and me.
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll be sure to mention it to Isabelle.” Or not.
“So what happened to your arm?” He nods at my injured limb.
“A stray bullet hit it.”
All seven men look at me with great interest—mentally guessing what I was doing to be anywhere near a flying bullet.
“Are you a cop or a bad guy?” Demek asks.
“Nothing that exciting. My neighbor was drunk and tried to scare away a pesky squirrel. The squirrel outsmarted him, ducked, and the bullet ricocheted off a metal flag post and nicked my arm. I just happened to be in the wrong place—my own backyard—at the wrong time.”
The men gape at me for several seconds, some clearly fighting the urge to laugh.
Blake is the first one to give in to the urge. “It’s a good thing you don’t require two functional arms to fuck your wife, am I right?” The man has several tattoos on his body, including a stylistic golden eagle. The stripes of the US flag form its wings, the stars the body.
There’s a good chance he served with the military, but I avoid bringing it up. I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that I served with the SEALs. It’s not part of my cover.
Unlike Blake, I don’t have tattoos that scream out that I was with the military. Mine are more subtle in design. Only I and the guys on Liam’s team understand what they mean.
I don’t bother to answer Blake.
We quickly finish washing our hands and return to our spouses.
Gabrielle is still standing near Isabelle. I sit next to her on the mat, and Isabelle takes my hand. I barely hear the surrounding murmur of voices above the sound of my pulse thumping in my ears.
“I want you to look into your partner’s eyes while doing this activity. The eyes are the windows to the soul, but they also heighten the sensuality of the moment. And that can lead to great sex.”
Isabelle runs the tip of her tongue along her lower lip as if eagerly anticipating the taste of the imagined ice cream.
I don’t have to ask her what flavor she’s thinking about. She might love chocolate, but when it comes to ice cream, she has a weakness for raspberry ripple.
She brings my hand closer to her mouth, her brown eyes locked on mine.
I swallow hard, and my gaze drops to her lush lips, stained with a pale pink lipstick that matches the stripes of her bikini. The bikini that will now star in my dreams tonight.
While Isabelle is sleeping next to me in the same bed.
I swallow again. Harder this time. It doesn’t do much to dislodge the lump in my throat.
“Okay now, don’t be shy.”
