Chapter 3

I hadn’t planned to sleep with any women at Sam’s wedding. Bridesmaids weren’t my kink. They usually had their minds on marriage and had a bit of a chip on their shoulder because of the whole always a bridesmaid, never a bride bullshite.

The last time I’d fucked a bridesmaid she’d got drunk afterward and had cried over how her eight-year relationship with her boyfriend had ended and she’d die an old maid.

Nah, that wasn’t my speed. Besides, it was the twenty-first century. Who gave a shite if they were married or not? You didn’t need to put a ring on someone’s finger to get awesome, sweaty sex with a willing partner.

I hadn’t had awesome, sweaty sex in… I winced inwardly as I began to swim the next lap in the hotel pool. Way too fucking long. Three months, if I were being honest. My photography business had blown up. Which was great for my bank account, but not great for picking up chicks.

Right now I lived in Seattle, but I was dying to get the hell out of Dodge. I’d lived in so many places—Dublin, Los Angeles, Atlanta, London, and now Seattle—that it felt strange to live in one place for more than one, maybe two, years.

Cities got stale. People got stale. Nothing about being tied down appealed to my wanderlust soul. The only reason I hadn’t left Seattle sooner was that my little sister, Niamh, lived with our aunt and uncle in Olympia, two hours west of Seattle.

My sister was the one person who could get me to stick around. Once she turned eighteen and received her inheritance from our judgmental, conservative arse of a grandfather and started college, I wouldn’t have to stick around. She’d be an adult on her own.

I’d always taken care of Niamh, even after she’d gone to live with our aunt and uncle.

I kicked off the wall, letting the warm water flow around me. I’d loved to swim ever since I was a kid living outside Dublin. I’d go to the community pool with Niamh every day during the summer, our mom always busy or not around. She always had to wear those bright orange floaties at the pool. She’d scream and cry when she’d first get into the pool, but she’d quickly ended up loving it.

Da had still been alive then. That first summer Niamh ever swam was the last one Da would be around for.

It was also only back in Ireland that people knew how to pronounce Niamh’s name. Here in the States? Apparently that was too much to ask. I could hear Niamh in my mind saying to some stranger, “It’s pronounced Neev,” and then rolling her eyes when that person still mispronounced her name five minutes later.

I came up for air, slicking my hair back. It was late—close to midnight. After the dinner tonight, I’d needed a breather from the wedding talk.

Then again, maybe I needed a second to cool off from meeting the one bridesmaid I’d be willing to fuck senseless.

Mari. It was too plain a name for someone as vibrant as her. Red hair, red lips. That dress she’d been wearing had been smoking hot. When she’d stood up after that statue fiasco, I’d also realized how tall she was. Slender legs that just begged to be wrapped around my waist.

As if I conjured her from my thoughts, Mari appeared. She came toward the pool, wearing a blue cover-up that failed to hide the string bikini underneath. Damn, she’d been hiding a body that was made for wet dreams under her dress tonight.

She stopped in surprise when she spotted me.

“You,” she said accusingly. She crossed her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you Americans say? ‘It’s a free country?'” I waved an arm. “Unless you’re going to tell me the Irish have been banned from swimming in the hotel pool.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. It’s late, so I didn’t think anyone would be here.” She turned to leave, but for some stupid reason I didn’t want her to. I lifted myself out of the pool, water streaming off of me. I couldn’t help but grin when she eye-fucked me as I walked toward her.

Yeah, sue me. I wasn’t against using this body of mine to get women to notice me. Women might act like looks didn’t matter, but their own bodies betrayed them. Based on the way Mari’s pupils had expanded, she wasn’t immune to me.

Game, set, match.

If I didn’t have Mari under me tonight, then I’d completely lost my touch.

So much for not sleeping with one of the bridesmaids, I thought.

“Why should you leave? You came here to swim. Or to get in the hot tub,” I said.

She swallowed. “It’s late,” she repeated.

“Not that late. Besides, you’re in Vegas. Time doesn’t matter.”

“How existential of you.”

“You have no idea.”

I raked my gaze down her body until I reached her toenails that were painted purple. I couldn’t help but imagine what she’d look like behind the lens of my camera. Her skin peachy pink, her hair that deep red. Would she look at me like she was now, with a combination of wariness and lust? My body stirred at the thought, but I tamped it down.

As if something turned on inside her, Mari stepped back and walked around me. “I’m going for a swim,” she said, so primly that I had the ridiculous desire to pull on her ponytail just to get a rise out of her.

“I’ll race you.”

She snorted. “Seriously?”

I waited for her to put on her swim cap and goggles. The combination of her bug eyes and bald head was almost enough to kill my horniness. Until she pulled off her swim cover-up to reveal that tiny bikini she was wearing.

I let out a whistle.

“Did you just wolf whistle?” she accused as she got into the pool next to me.

“Just appreciating what I see. Although the cap and goggles ain’t too sexy, babe.”

She gasped. “I’m no longer sexy to you? How shall I ever recover?”

I wanted to spank her for being such a smart-ass, but soon I was too caught up in winning this impromptu race with her. We soon agreed on ten laps.

The race began. She could swim, that was for sure. I hadn’t expected her to be so fast. Her body was long and lean, and she gave as good as she got. By midway, she was ahead of me by one lap. When she turned, she flashed me a sassy grin and then dove below the surface again.

I pushed myself harder. Soon I’d caught up with her. By the last lap, we were neck and neck. My muscles screamed at me. My heart pounded.

And I touched the pool wall just a second before she did.

“Fuck yeah!” I burst through the water and slapped the pool ledge.

Mari wrinkled her nose and swiped the water from her face. She then lifted herself out of the water.

It was like something out of a magazine: the water streaming from her body, her swimsuit clinging to every curve, every dip. Her bikini bottom had ridden up, exposing the curves of her ass cheeks.

Hello, cockstand, nice to see you, but this was the worst fucking timing.

Mari took off her goggles and then her cap. Her red hair spilled free of its ponytail. Jesus fucking Christ, I wanted to wrap that hair around my fingers and pull it as I pumped into her from behind. Would she blush all over when she had sex?

I saw her shiver—it got cold at night in the desert—and I said, “Go get in the hot tub before you freeze.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but then she considered my suggestion. I had a feeling she was the type to question everything. If I said the sky was blue, she’d probably ask me to prove it.

“Are you always so bossy with people you don’t know?” she said.

“We know each other. I met you a few hours ago.”

She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t—never mind.”

She gave in and went to the hot tub, thank God. I didn’t want her to leave yet. I climbed out of the pool to get into the hot tub with her.

Not next to her—that would spook her. If I pushed her too hard, she’d get her back up and scamper to her room and lock her door for all eternity.

“I didn’t get in because you told me to,” she said when I slid into the water across from her.

“I bet you’re the one who bosses people around usually.”

A smile tinged her lips. “You could say that. I also have two younger sisters, so I grew up bossing them around.”

“Ah. I knew it. You have oldest sister written all over you.”

“Really? What about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Just a younger sister.”

“The worst kind.” But her smile belied that statement. “So we’re both bossy oldest siblings. No wonder I can’t stand you.”

I laughed. “Yet you haven’t left.”

“No,” she said softly, “I haven’t.”

The steam had made the ends of her hair curl, especially around her forehead. I wished I had my camera right then. In the one art class I managed to take in college before I dropped out, we studied the Romantics, including Rossetti’s obsession with his titian-haired muse.

Mari looked like she could be one of Rossetti’s paintings. It was such a romantic thought that I cringed inwardly. She’s not going to be your muse. Just a one-night stand, unless you totally fuck this up.

“How did you meet Sam?” said Mari suddenly. “You guys don’t seem like you’d have much in common.”

“And you’ve figured that out from knowing me for—what?—four hours?”

“I’m very astute. I usually figure people out quickly.”

I swam toward her until we sat next to each other. I could touch her if I reached for her, but I didn’t. There was something to be said about anticipation. Her eyes widened slightly, her nostrils flared.

She was like a pretty filly that would bolt if I moved too quickly. In Ireland, we’d lived next to a farm that’d had horses, and I’d helped the owner with mucking the stables and feeding the horses when I was a kid.

I had a feeling Mari wouldn’t appreciate me comparing her to a horse, though.

“So you’re saying you’re a mind reader?” I said.

“No. But most people operate based on their own kind of logic. Once you know their mode of operation, you can anticipate what they’ll say and do. Generally speaking.”

“People aren’t machines.”

“No, but they are predictable.”

“What a boring outlook you have of humanity.”

She wrinkled her pert little nose. Although the lights were dim, I could make out freckles on her cheeks.

“I find it comforting,” she asserted. “That people can be figured out easily. Then you can avoid the ones who’ll hurt you.”

“If people are so simple,” I said, my voice low as I moved closer to her, “then tell me what I’m going to do right now. What is my standard mode of operation?”

She took a deep breath. Her breasts rose and fell, and I could see that her nipples were hard. It would be so easy to untie those few strings holding the scrap of fabric on her.

“You’re going to touch me,” she whispered.

I shook my head. “Believe me, I’d like to. But you’re not ready. You’d enjoy it in the moment, but then you’d remember why it was a bad idea. Because you don’t like to do bad things, do you? You’re a good girl, Mari.”

“You think you have me all figured out.”

I shrugged. “Like you said: people are easy to understand.”

“I do bad things all the time,” she countered.

“I doubt it.”

She tipped her pointed chin up. “I’m not a coward.”

“Maybe not, but you do prefer to stay where it’s safe. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Her cheeks, already flushed from the steam, then got even redder at my words. Mari was right, in a way: people were simple to figure out. She hated being proven wrong, I could already tell.

“You’re wrong,” she hissed, and I laughed.

Then she launched herself at me. My laughter died in my throat when her hot body wrapped around me right before her mouth descended onto mine.

She kissed artlessly, like she hadn’t much experience. Or she’d only kissed a man bad at kissing. I let her control the kiss for three seconds, letting her believe she’d won.

Then I turned the tables on her.

I slid my hands down her back and squeezed her arse as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. She gasped, her hands fluttering on my shoulders. I fucked her mouth—that was the only way to describe it. And she was fire in my arms. She trembled and dug her nails into my skin. She arched toward me when I slid my finger under the string of her bikini tie around her neck.

I was close to untying this entire bikini from her body and feasting on her when I heard footsteps.

I didn’t know who reacted first, me or Mari. One second she was in my arms. The next, water was splashing over the side of the hot tub as Mari jumped away from me. Unfortunately for her, I was still gripping the end of her string bikini top. The string un-knotted in slow motion, and then the bikini folded over to reveal her breasts.

Mari screeched. I tried to help her, but she scrambled out of the hot tub before I could reach her.

“Well, damn. I should’ve come down here earlier,” our visitor said.

“Mari, wait.” I went after her as fast as I could, considering the slick pavement. She grabbed her stuff, holding her bikini top up with one hand.

“You’ve done more than enough. Leave me alone,” she said, obviously pissed.

And then she left in a huff, scampering back to her room, just like I’d predicted.

At least I’d got to see her amazing tits. I should’ve felt guilty thinking about them—flushed from the steam, berry-pink nipples—but I was a man with a working cock.

Shame I’d probably never get a chance to see them again.