Charlene nabs the phone again. “You know, if this guy had a beard, he’d look a lot like Randy.”

Lily leans over her shoulder. “You know, I kind of thought the same thing. I’ve never seen Randy without the beard.”

“Ohhh, maybe you should ask him to shave it, just for comparison sake,” I suggest.

“I’m not sure he’d go for that, or that I want him to. I kind of love his beard.” Lily sigh-shudders.

“Don’t you find it scratchy? I always find Alex’s beard scratchy during playoffs. Sometimes it chafes my beaver, and I have to put aloe on it.”

“I’m sure Sunny really wanted to know that,” Charlene mutters.

I’m not sure Sunny is even paying attention since she’s busy looking at her own phone, but I apologize anyway.

Sunny shrugs. “I always find there’s less chafing after the first two weeks. Sometimes we take a day in between cookie-eating sessions until he reaches the soft and not scratchy stage.”

“Well, Randy’s beard is super soft. He conditions it a lot, though.”

“With your vagina!” I say.

Lily snickers, and we fist bump.

By the time the guys get back from golfing, it’s time for dinner, and we’re all sun baked and hammered—except for Sunny, who’s the only one smart enough to keep reapplying sunscreen throughout the day. It was a sunny, and we forgot to account for the fact that we’ve been hiding under warm clothes for several months, except for the few days we spent getting me hitched in Vegas.

After dinner, everyone goes home, and I take a cool shower to help ease the heat on my over-sunned skin. Apparently my time honeymooning in Hawaii didn’t provide enough of a base to avoid a burn. I grab the aloe lotion and drop down on the bed beside Alex, groaning my displeasure at the sandpaper feel of the comforter.

“You look a little overcooked. Want me to put that on your back?” Alex nods to the bottle in my hand.

I pass it over. “That’d be awesome.”

He pulls my shirt over my head and makes a disapproving sound. “Did you wear sunscreen at all?”

“I forgot to reapply.”

“Clearly.” He drops a small kiss on my shoulder, then reaches around and cups my boobs in his palms, sighing. “At least these aren’t burned.”

My nipples are each framed with a pasty white triangle. “I imagine burned nipples aren’t very pleasant.”

Alex makes a sound of agreement as he circles one with his finger. He keeps doing that until it’s perfectly hard. Then he does it some more.

“What do you think of nipple rings?”

His finger stills. “What?”

“Pierced nipples. How do you feel about them?”

“You mean how would I feel about having my nipples pierced?”

“No. How would you feel about me having mine pierced?”

He puts a protective palm over my nipple, as if he’s shielding it from our conversation. “Uhhh…I don’t really know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about.”

“So you’ve never been with someone who had nipple piercings?”

“No. Why the sudden interest in putting extra holes in your sensitive parts?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Charlene has hers pierced.”

“So you think you need to have yours done to match?”

“No. I was just curious. You liked it when I bedazzled my beaver; I wondered if you’d like my boobs bedazzled, too.”

Alex checks out my naked, unbedazzled beaver. “That was so fucking hot.”

“I can do it again if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll be a little more careful so they last longer…whenever you decide you want to decorate your pretty pussy.”

I shiver—not because I’m succumbing to heat stroke, but because of his pussy reference. “I’ll make an appointment next week.”

“Or I could set up a spa day for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“You’ve been working really hard lately; you deserve a day of pampering.”

As much as I’ve tried not to succumb to it, I kind of love being doted on by Alex. “You’re so good to me.”

“I try, baby.” He holds up the aloe lotion. “Why don’t you roll over, and I’ll rub this all over your sexy, naked body.”

“And then you’ll rub Super MC all over my sexy, naked beaver?”

“You read my mind.”

Chapter 6

STEEL

DARREN

I check my email while I wait for Waters. His most recent text, which came two minutes ago, tells me he’s running a little behind. This isn’t abnormal, even if it’s Saturday. Particularly since he got married.

I don’t think it’s Violet’s fault, though. Of the two of them, she’s way more prompt than he is.

Another message comes in while I’m email scrolling. It’s from Charlene, the woman I’ve been seeing for the past year. It’s a pretty casual thing. Sort of. We have fun together, and we’re into the same things, so it works out well. Most of the time, anyway. Things got a little tense when Alex and Violet got married a few weeks ago, but they’ve settled down since we got back from Vegas, so we’re status quo again.

I flip to my messages. The one from Charlene is brief and to the point.

Busy 2nite?

I hate text speak. She knows this. Also, this is Charlene’s way of asking if I’m available. My reply is far more direct.

Do you want to see me?

The dots appear, telling me she’s composing her response. They stop for a second, then start again. Then stop again before a message appears.

Yes

I type a reply. It’s not a question.

Dinner at 7

Her reply is much faster this time.

What shld I wear?

Charlene is more than capable of choosing her own outfits, but if she’s asking, it means she wants me to pick for her. I consider that for a moment, mentally filtering through her wardrobe, both dresses and lingerie.