Dante picks up one of the outfits, still on a little hanger with one finger. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He roars with laughter and makes a call on his phone.
And this is where I can feel the tip of the cock, pushed in an inch and ready to fuck me up the ass—without lube—and there’s not a goddamned thing I can do about it.
I am not telling them about Kennedy. Period. No matter how much I have to bite down and take it.
His phone rings out. Great. A FaceTime. A group one. With all of them.“Guess who’s suddenly into this?” He holds the tiny outfit to the camera.
Their eyes light up as he dances it around the screen. “What the hell is it?” Dillon asks, smiling wide.
“Is he supposed to put that on his dick or something? Like some weird kink?” Mateo howls and waves a finger in my direction. “You are one sick shit.”
“I second that.” Smoke chuckles.
I snatch it from Dante’s hand. “This is not some furry cock ring, you twisted shits. It’s a...” I make a face. What the hell is it? I inspect the little leather jacket with a fur-lined collar and sleeves. It’s like something you’d give a drag queen at a biker bar. If that drag queen was a squirrel.
Bzzz-bzzz.
A small noise comes from the closet. I’m not sure if Dante heard it, too, but as soon as he looks that direction, I blurt out, “Yes, I have a dog.”
“One you’re playing dress up with?” Dante says, grabbing another hanger. This one is purple with a frilly collar. All it’s missing is heels and a powdered wig, and he’d be a dead ringer for Marie Antoinette. Or Elton John.
They all wait for my response. If I deny it, who knows when this torture will end. I take a breath. “I have a dog. It has clothes. Despite keeping my distance from everyone, I have a touchy-feely soft side. One that you fuckers wouldn’t know anything about.”
The room falls silent, a welcome reprieve. But, predictably, it doesn’t last long.
Smoke’s sharp gaze lands on me, suspicion evident in his raised brow. “Getting a dog to connect with us?” His tone is laced with skepticism.
My internal alarm blares. Abort mission. But it’s too late. I nod anyway.
He leans in closer to the screen, disbelief across every line of his face. “Then what’s its name?”
Damnit. Smoke knows me too well. Ruffles? Duffle? No, think. Something edible. “Truffles,” I say with confidence.
After a split second of silence, their laughter erupts even louder. It’s all I can take. “Goodbye,” I declare, ending the call abruptly and ushering Dante towards the door.
We pass Savannah, still seated and sipping like a camel. “Bye, Savannah. Bye, Truffles,” Dante says, bidding them both farewell.
Truffles barks on cue, his timing impeccable. At least he’s good for something.
We arrive at the steps. “Oh, and thanks,” I add before Dante leaves, handing him the fob for his Aston Martin. I refrain from telling him that I’ve gifted the hood ornament to a little girl who will probably use it to pick her nose.
“If you so much as breathed on her wrong,” he warns.
With a smirk, I pat him on the shoulder. “Not a scratch.”
CHAPTER 18
Kennedy
Heart pounding, I see the fight breaking out between Enzo and a guy who looks so much like him, they have to be related.
Whatever’s happening between them, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me meeting anyone in his family.
And certainly not like this.
As his look-alike bolts up the stairs, two at a time, my heart beats so hard, that I feel it in my ears. I spring to my feet and dash past Savannah and Truffles, and bolt through the very last door at the back of the plane.
The one I assume is a bathroom.