Page 35 of Taming Waves

“And sparks seem to be flying all over the place,” Amiya says under her breath.

I narrow my eyes at Parker. “It’s my turn.”

He joined us in the hot tub, and the five of us soaked until our skin started to prune. Now, he and I are sitting by the firepit, wrapped in towels and playing a game of Twenty Questions.

It was his idea. He said if the two of us were going to be friends, then we should get to know each other better, and I’d had just enough alcohol to agree.

So far, neither of us has learned anything about each other we didn’t already know. I still love pasta, and he still loves all shellfish. We both like a good cup of coffee. We’re both Carolina Tar Heels and Panthers fans. I still run, and he still sails. I enjoy fishing. He enjoys fishing.

I guess we haven’t changed as much as I thought.

“All right, hit me,” he says.

I pluck the cherry from my glass as I consider my next question and decide to mess with him a bit. I’m playing with fire, and I know it, but his nearness, combined with the alcohol, is making me brave.

“What do you like nowadays?” I ask as I roll the cherry with the tip of my tongue before sinking my teeth into it and tugging it free from the stem.

“Like?” he asks as his eyes watch me intently.

“In the bedroom?” I ask matter-of-factly.

His eyes snap up to mine as his brows lift in surprise. “I’m pretty open-minded. What about you?”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth while I pretend to consider the question. “I like it all. How do you feel about being tied up?”

His lips quirk. “Me or you?”

“I wasn’t talking about the two of us. I’m being hypothetical.”

“So am I. Who would be tied up, Audi? Me or you? Hypothetically.”

“You,” I reply before thinking better of it.

He leans over the side of my chair, plucks one of the cherries from my glass, and pops it into his mouth. “Whatever turns you on, sweetheart.”

Well, that wasn’t the response I’d expected.

“Whips, floggers, anal beads—it all turns me on,” I lie.

It’s not that I’m a prude. I like sex. I like it a lot, but BDSM isn’t my kink.

He laughs.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re not gonna scare me off, Audi. I’d let you tie me up, and I’d take great pleasure in working at the knots while you had your fun. But when I got free”—his eyes flit down to my chest, where my breasts are peeking out of the top of my bikini, and I feel my breathing become erratic—“I’d be returning the favor. You’d be screaming my name as I made you come with my fingers, my tongue, and my cock. So, do your worst with your little whips and feathers because I don’t need them.” He pauses as he ponders something. “Although the anal beads might be fun.”

I swallow hard as sweat begins to bead on my forehead, and I swear if there wasn’t a houseful of people I barely know only steps away from us, I’d crawl onto his lap so he could show me what his fingers could do.

I start to speak, but nothing but a squeak comes out. Parker’s mouth turns up in a triumphant smile.

Motherfucker.

He turned the tables on me and beat me at my own game.

“I hate you,” I quip as I grab my glass and down the rest of the cool liquid.

“No, you don’t. You just hate the fact that you don’t hate me.”

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