Page 34 of Wild Flower

“These two hunks of fine-Flambé-chocolate are taking the rest of the night off.” She points at us. “And they’re taking you out.” Arie points to Becca. “Somewhere else.Anywhereelse. And if they don’t make you come so hard you’re seeing stars, I’m going to fire both of them. Got it?”

Becca’s jaw drops, her eyes ping-ponging between the three of us.

“Excuse me—?” she stutters.

“Oh fuck, girl,” Arie brandishes. “His hand was up your skirt. We both know where this evening was headed, and I fully approve of it—as long as it happenssomewhere else.” Arie grabs the front of Archer’s shirt and twists to make her point. “And I know where she works now,” Arie says to us. “So don’t be surprised if I call her up to verify you two were worth giving a second chance.”

Arie lets go of Archer and pats both of us on the shoulder.

“You’re serious?” I ask.

“About making sure she has the best orgasm of her life?” Arie tosses back hotly. “I don’t joke about orgasms, Finn. I thought you’d worked here long enough to know that about me.” Arie turns to Becca. “And if you want to kick them to the curb, sweetheart, you can. You’re always the one with all the power when it comes to a man … or men,” she corrects. Becca’s cheeks flush at the implication. “And like I said, this one issmitten.”

Arie pinches my cheek. Becca’s eyes flick to me with a sparkle that makes Arie smirk, before turning on her three-inch heels and winking at me before heading to the kitchen.

“I’ll tell Simon the two of you ate some bad prawns and needed to go home early,” Arie says, as she sashays away in the same whirlwind of red hair and brimstone as she arrived.

I turn to Becca with my mouth half open, not entirely sure what I’m supposed to say. There isn’t a hooking up handbook that covers the crazy that is Arie.

“So, it looks like you two are free for the night …” Becca says, breaking the ice, her mouth curling into a shy smile.

I eye Archer, who looks like a viper ready to strike.

“Yes.” I nod. “It seems, we are.”

21

BECCA

When Arie told these two to take me out, I didn’t expect this.

The three of us stand at the top of a tall cliff on the secluded side of the island, staring down into a black cauldron of moonlit water. The ocean swirls hypnotically beneath us, moving gently in the bowl and sloshing against the rocks. Even though it’s dark, I can tell the stones have been carved smooth from the surf.

Still, we’re at least fifty feet up.

“You expect me to jump?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat that feels as big as a goat. I glance pensively at the two impressive men that flank me like bodyguards. They’re still wearing their suits from Flambé and the darkness cloaks their bodies. It’s like they’re Lucifer’s naughty demons, hiding their horns, and making me crave (and fear) the thrill they’re presenting.

“How many tattoos do you have, Becca?” Archer asks. It isn’t a question. It’s evidence. “Enough for me to know you’re not afraid of a little danger.”

Lucifer’s demons for sure.

Tattoos are one thing. Jumping off a cliff at night is quite another.

Finn laughs, peeling off his suit coat and dropping it on the ground. “Needles are definitely worse than night swimming,” Finn quips, his high cheekbones catching the moonlight as he continues to undress—tie, shoes, shirt.

The second the moonlight hits his bare chest my stomach squirms at how princely and regal he looks. Some men have the jaw and build of royalty, and Finn is one of them. If Finn and Archer were actual Fae in one of my fantasy novels, Archer would be the rugged, long-haired warrior, and Finn would be on the throne.

“Too bad it’s too dark for my camera. It wouldn’t expose anything,” Finn says, gazing at me. “But your skin against the velvet sky …” He trails off, his eyes lingering long enough to make my stomach clench. These two have already made me feel out-of-my-skin, but now I’m some mythic beauty Finn wants to photograph? Am I Venus and Medusa in one? Both beautiful and terrifying in the unfolding night.

“You’re a photographer?” I ask.

“He’s studying it at the university,” Archer reveals. And when I look at him, he too, is disrobing, his moonlit arms and muscles perfectly sculpted. “Finn’s still looking for the perfect subject to inspire him.”

“Oh?” My eyes flit back to Finn, who’s practically naked. “And you think …?” I don’t say it out loud. It’s too intimate to ask if he sees me as a muse.

“He’s been talking non-stop about exotic flowers since he met you,” Archer divulges. “He went to the botanical gardens and everything.”

I sneak a glance at Finn whose expression is hidden in the dark.

---