Page 187 of Unhinged

“That’s a suit? It’s basically a bra and underwear.”

“It’s a damn bikini. So?”

Greg laughs, but he’s more annoyed than amused. “It sure didn’t go unnoticed with three pricks practically ejaculating over you.”

“Who says?”

He throws out his hands, being totally overdramatic. “One was flirting with you, for Christ’s sake!”

“You were spying on me like some creeper?”

“I walked in the door and saw you talking to him and laughing. You’re kind of hard to miss, wearing that.”

“I can talk to whomever I want and wear any swimsuit I want, Greg.”

“Not when I’ll find more material on a Nickelback album.”

I scowl at his sudden shitty attitude. “What the hell is your deal?”

“My deal is they were eye-fucking my wife.”

“Don’t go all alpha asshole on me, dear. So what? They didn’t touch me.”

“You don’t even want me looking at you like that. They’re probably in their rooms, jacking off to you.”

I glance toward the woman in here, but she’s busy with her laps. I turn back to my infuriating husband and shrug. “Cool.”

His laugh is bitter again. “Nice. I’m glad you find this entertaining.”

“Not in the damn least, but it’s sweet that you think I’m whoring myself out because of other guys looking at me in a swimsuit. Can’t you just be happy that I’m yours and not theirs?”

He sighs and scratches his head as he glances toward the exit. “I am happy, but… Look, Simone. About earlier, I’m not trying to be a dick. I just don’t want to dwell on shit that isn’t true and not a problem until you make it one.”

“I don’t feel like your wife. I don’t even feel like your girlfriend. Something is missing, and it worries me. This isn’t about sticking it to my dad. I’m a grown woman.”

Greg’s eyes widen as they fall to my chest again. “I see that.”

Seeing him stare at my tits makes me a little self-conscience, and I mindlessly adjust the triangles covering them. Over the woman’s splashing laps, I hear Greg’s hard swallow as his eyes widen.

To distract myself, I towel off more. I practically hear his eyes moving with me until he clears his throat and asks, “Can we go back to our room?”

“Why?”

“Because.”

I roll my eyes. “Convincing.”

Greg crosses his arms, drops them, re-crosses, and looks around us, even though there’s only one other person nearby. “Because I’m struggling here, Simone.”

“With what?”

“You’re…” He drags his gaze over me, concentrating on my chest and between my legs. When I stare at him, still not catching on, he sighs and leans closer to my ear. “That bikini. I’m wearing sweats. Come on.”

“Oh. Well, go deal with it like the other three guys. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Jesus. You’re more than that.”

“We already did it twice today. While you go back to our room to take care of your woody, I’ll think about our relationship.” With Greg, I’ve never smiled, frowned, laughed, or cried so much in my life. I’m usually smiley, but I see the real Greg Rodwell underneath his jokes and sarcasm. It’s not all fun and games for either of us. “Just go upstairs. I need time alone.” I glance at his crotch but see nothing obvious. “We both do.”

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