Page 28 of The Drag Race Debutante & the Detectives
Emily had groaned. She’d almost come from the salacious suggestion alone, but the feel of them touching her, of being trapped between her men and feeling their hard lengths pressing into her, knowing they wanted her as much as she wanted them just ramped up her anticipation for later, for the final step in The Plan.
She also suspected the whole blindfold thing was just another way to keep her on edge. They were being ridiculously secretive.
Listening for clues as to where they might be wasn’t particularly helpful. The door leading into the building sounded pretty normal, as did the way her shoes sounded on the carpeted flooring. The smell was familiar to her but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it—hotdogs, maybe?—and the decades old music sounded distant and hollow, like it was coming from a large, empty room.
“Have you guessed yet?” Dane asked, his warm breath brushing against her ear.
“Um… bowling alley?” But she didn’t think that was quite right.
When the boys lifted the blindfold, Emily had to raise her hand to block the sudden barrage of lights. Flashing, twinkling lights, twirling in time with the music. Suddenly Eric was standing in front of her, using his body to block the worst of it.
“Let your eyes adjust,” he said. “There’s no rush.”
So she took a moment and did as Eric suggested, while surreptitiously taking in her surroundings and discovering they were in a roller skating rink.
A very empty roller skating rink.
So much for her public displays of affection.
“You look annoyed,” Dane said, casting a worried glance at Eric. “Why is she annoyed?”
Emily tried to school her features into something more neutral, but she’d never been very good at hiding her feelings. Her face screamed things she would never have to courage to say out loud.
Eric gripped her chin and made her look at him. “What’s going on, kitten? Why are you upset?”
She started to say, “I’m not upset,” but Eric’s hand slipped from her chin to her throat and squeezed just enough to make her think twice about lying to him.
“Don’t hide from us, baby. Talk to us.”
She hated being so easy to read. And both of her men were damn good at it.
Closing her eyes, she took a moment to breathe, to organise her thoughts. Then she lifted her chin and stared at them head on. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“What?” Their shocked expressions was some consolation at least, but she’d seen good acting before. “No, we’re not ashamed of you. Why would you think that?”
“Because you said you were taking me on a real date. I assumed that meant somewhere public. I was wrong.”
Eric relaxed and a small grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “You think we’re hiding you.” He shook his head. “We’re not.”
Emily gestured to the empty rink. “You’ll have to forgive me for thinking otherwise. Especially since?—”
She bit off what she was going to say, the reminder of past humiliations still living rent free in her head. Images of a certain boy laughing at her when she’d dared to ask him why they never went out with his friends, why he never came over when her family was home. When he’d confirmed her worst fears and told her she wasn’t his girlfriend, that he would never date someone who looked like her. That he’d been told fat girls were more fun in bed, and was surprised to find out it was true. And yeah, that shithead had a lot of fun at her expense.
“Since it wouldn’t be the first time?”
“Since Billy Houghton did the same thing?”
Her narrowed gaze snapped to Eric’s then Dane’s. “How do you know about him?”
“We’re cops,” Dane said, pressing himself against her back and nuzzling her earlobe. “We know things.”
“And did you really think we wouldn’t look into your past boyfriends after you told us you hadn’t dated anyone in almost three years.” Eric’s deep blue gaze was as mesmerising as the commanding tone in his velvety voice. “Why would a smart, funny, gorgeous woman remove herself from the dating scene unless she’d been hurt by someone?”
Emily opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out, her mind blank of all conscious thought because Dane chose that exact moment to grab her arsecheeks and squeeze them hard, hard enough to force her onto her toes and try to escape the fresh ache he was causing.
“Do you need a reminder of our conversation last night?” he said.
No one calls our girl names. Especially not our girl.
