Page 41 of Inflame

“You going to eat all that, sweetheart?” he asks, hugging her from behind.

She turns her head back to look up at him with her big doe eyes. “You have to earn it.”

“Ew,” Claire says, making a face. “Can you be any cuter?”

I am standing beside her. I swear her body heat just made the vanilla scent she bathes herself in even warmer and creamier. It reminds me of ice cream that is melting on top of a warm brownie. All of the scents from the chocolate, paired with her perfume, enhance and engage all of my senses.

I hang back in the shop while the group goes out to explore the cacti garden. It is a unique business pairing, but it obviously works for the owner to bring in tourists looking for a gimmicky attraction. I glance around at the products for sale and find a bath bomb set that includes chocolate shampoo and lotion. I didn’t get Claire anything for Christmas—mainly because I was unaware that she was going to be at my parents’ in advance—when she gave me the unicorn selfie stick. It has been weighing on me for months, and maybe this little gift set featuring the local chocolates will make up for being so late.

I place a few different chocolate bars onto the counter and even find some vegan varieties.

“Can you please deliver these chocolate bars to my hotel room, so they don’t melt in the car? Can you get this bath set wrapped and shipped to Portland if I give you the address? I have no problem paying any fees.”

“Of course, sir,” the worker says, handing me a form for the delivery information.

I hand over my credit card to pay and join the gang outside on the pathway that winds through a maze of cacti. Claire is eating some chocolate-covered pretzels on a bench. She stands up to join me, looking at my empty hands.

“You were in there awhile, what were you doing?” she asks.

“Just browsing. You got melted chocolate on your cheek.”

“Where?” She wipes around her lips but keeps missing the spot.

With the pad of my thumb, I brush over the smear, cleaning her face from the chocolate. I look down at the residue and swipe my tongue over it, tasting the deliciousness. “Yum.”

Claire stares at my lips, but then pivots and keeps on walking. I can sense the internal struggle she is having between wanting something and knowing she shouldn’t. We share the same temptation. I’m just weaker in my ability to resist.

After the walk, we get back into the cars and drive toward the strip, where the iconic Welcome to Las Vegas sign is located. I have never stopped at the sign in all of the visits I have made to the city, but Claire’s excitement makes it worth it. She is an extreme tourist. It’s like she is helping me to see the city through a new lens—a brighter and more vibrant one.

Graham and Angie kiss under the sign for a photo, while other onlookers cheer them on. After a dozen more varieties of pictures, we head on back to the Bellagio to change into swimsuits.

The pool is only open to guests who are staying at the hotel. Key cards must be swiped and an attendant patrols the gated area to make sure outsiders are not sneaking in. The patio area is set up with umbrellas and loungers. For midday, the pool is jamming with a growing crowd.

I watch the girls pick out an area to set our gear. I grab a stack of towels from the shelf along the wall and carry them over to the four loungers that are now ours for the afternoon.

Angie pulls off her black coverup and reveals a purple bikini that is iridescent in the sunlight.

“Oh, hell no,” Graham whisper-growls. “When did you buy that scrap of a thing?”

I chuckle at his possessiveness. He has always been this way when it comes to her. From what I can tell, Angie loves to push his buttons—and does a damn fine job at it. I think it is a game to her to drive him a little crazy. He needs someone defiant in his life to keep him humble.

Claire undoes the strap on her white coverup wrap dress to reveal the same suit but in a shimmery red. Fuck me sideways. She looks like aPlayboymodel. Did she buy one size too small by accident? Her tits are going to fall out of the top of the fabric.

I am going to go to hell for every single fantasy running on loop through my head.

I swallow hard while I watch her kick off her flip-flops and take out her hair from her ponytail. She fluffs life back into her strands, and all I can look at is how her boobs bounce with each movement of her hands.

I pull my shirt off and toss it onto my lounger. My gray trunks sit low on my hips and they offer no support for my growing cock. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I watch nearly every guy in the vicinity check out the girls.

Music is filtrating through the various speakers set up on posts around the main pool area. A DJ helps get the party started by mixing songs and adding creative effects to the tracks.

“I’ll go grab us drinks,” I say, looking at one of three bars to see which has the smallest line. “What does everyone want?”

“Something that will get us completely wasted,” Claire suggests, swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music.

“I’ll come with you,” Graham says, glaring at the back of Claire’s head. She’s off in her own world, and Angie is about to join her. We walk toward the bar on the opposite end of the pool. “Let’s get food too.”

I nod. “Good idea.”

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