Page 30 of Gin and Lava

She continues to shake her head at me, but the amused smile is genuine.

“Don’t give me a look like that,” I tease. “This deal means you only get to bounce on my cock after someone ties the knot and saysI doto forever. That pissed-off-cause-I’m-still-single-so-I’m-gonna-ride-Mason’s-cock-like-there’s-no-tomorrow—that’s a special offer. Like Christmas or Holidays. It’snotan everyday thing. Got it?”

“Got it,” she says sarcastically, and my eyes flick to that gold necklace that dangles between her tits, the one she designed. It rocked and swung above me the whole time she rode me, and it was hot as sin. I don’t say it out loud, but the thought of Naomi wearing her own jewelry and nothing else might be the sexiest thing I can think of.

“I’m glad we ironed that out,” I say, shutting the door of her truck and pointing at her playfully. “Thanks for the ride, Tate.”

She rolls down her window and smiles at me, her hair still a mess, that dress barely clinging to her shoulders.

“Anytime,” she says, before turning the ignition and backing out of my driveway.

Of course, we both know she doesn’t really mean thatanytimecomment, and she’s not going to call me when the next wedding comes around. This was a one-time thing, and Naomi’s just being nice.

I’ll take it.

Yes, I’d love for her to mean it, or worse, want more, but I know where I stand in the pecking order of this world. I’m not going to turn my nose up at the universe for giving me one hot night with a girl like Naomi. No fucking way.

I’m just going to thank my lucky stars she decided it was my cock she needed.

8

NAOMI

Asparkling orange mimosa is placed on the table in front of me. It fizzes with champagne like it’s trying to remind me of how much of the bubbly liquid Mason drank last night.

Esme sits across from me in a booth at one of the Atlantis Resort’s generic daytime restaurants. Arie’s restaurant, Flambé, doesn’t do brunch, so Esme and I made a plan last night to eat here, before she and Desmond have to catch a plane back to Southern California.

“Where’s your other half?” I ask, motioning to the empty seat next to Esme.

“He’ll be down in a minute,” she says, tucking her lavender hair behind her ear. “He’s on the phone with his manager.”

“Wheeling and dealing?”

“Pretty much.” She nods. “They’re trying to decide which movie he should do over the summer when the show’s on hiatus.”

“First world problems,” I joke, and she nods with an eye roll like that’s an understatement. Honestly, what I consider to be the first world is the third world when you live in Celebrity-land.

The waiter hands me my French toast, topped with fresh berries and a queen’s allotment of powdered sugar and maple syrup. Esme’s eyes narrow at me and my princess-n-the-pea size pile of carbohydrates like something suspicious is going on.

“What?” I ask defensively, putting the plate down and thanking the waiter before he leaves. “A girl can’t indulge once in a while? Has the celebrity lifestyle caused you to judge one’s need for a Taj Mahal size stack of cinnamon battered bread?”

Honestly, after last night, all I want to do now is overindulge.

“No, of course not,” Esme says quickly. “I get it. Wedding hangovers can be a bitch.”

I decide to not correct her. Since the hangover I’m having right now is not so much the alcohol kind as the why-didn’t-I-stay-the-night-at-Mason’s-house variety.

“It’s surprising that you drank at all,” Esme continues. “Last I knew, you were on your anti-alcohol lets save the world with superfood-green-smoothies-and-kale kick.”

“That’s when I was dating Sam,” I correct. But of course, she’s been on the mainland so she doesn’t know all the nuances. Sam’s a doctor and a health nut, and I became a health nut with him. Not that I wasn’t always body-conscious.

“Right, of course,” Esme says. “Well, I’m glad to see it didn’t last.”

“Which one? Sam, or my obsession with kale?”

Esme’s eyes flick up at the edge in my tone. Esme never really liked Sam, even though she only met him once. She always said I was someone else with him.

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” Esme says, back pedaling. “If you’re on the carbs-r-us diet, then more power to you, girlfriend!”

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