She stared at the matching tattoos on their shoulders—Dare’s on his right, Trey’s on his left. Red flying V guitars with the saying Flying V Forever beneath both. She opened her mouth to ask about them about it (because she’d never seen either of them touch a flying V guitar), but when her eyes met Trey’s and then Dare’s, the only thing she could think of was becoming the filling in a delicious Mills brothers sandwich.
“I should probably go,” she said, before her throbbing, achy pussy convinced her to do something she’d regret.
The butler-guy appeared beside her. Just in time. She grabbed the two drinks from his serving tray and downed them both in quick succession.
“Are you sure?” Dare said, releasing his hold on his little brother and staring up at her with those piercing green eyes.
She set the two empty glasses on the serving tray and nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I have a lot of things to get in order before we go on tour.” Total lie. She couldn’t tell him the truth though. Dare, I have to leave before I rape you and your brother in the hot tub. Not exactly admirable. But oh so true.
“Harold, could you call for the car?” Dare said. “Reagan needs a ride.”
Oh yeah. The car. She’d get to ride in a limo. That was almost as good as a threesome with two of the sexiest guitarists on the planet.
Okay, not even close, but it was still pretty cool.
“I need to head out too,” Trey said and stood from the water. Her eyes followed the happy trail of hair on his lower belly to his oh-so-gorgeous but now flaccid cock. It pulsed to life as she stared. Jeez, what was wrong with her? She loved sex as much as the next girl, but it wasn’t usually the only thing on her mind. She should probably stay as far away from Trey Mills as possible. “Do you mind if we share a limo?” he asked Reagan.
Reagan bent to retrieve her discarded tank top from the edge of the hot tub and pulled it on over her head. “Not at all,” she said nonchalantly. She tugged on the fabric so it wouldn’t cling to her hard nipples. Not making much progress with that really.
Trey nudged her when he sauntered past her. Making sure he had her attention, no doubt. He collected at towel from the edge of the hot tub and began to rub it over his skin. Now was that really necessary? He turned and she caught a glimpse of his perfect ass. Well, perfect except for the ridiculous tattoo that decorated one cheek. A unicorn, rainbow, and calico kitten had no business on the man’s ass. It was a travesty.
At her startled inrush of breath, Dare burst out laughing. “You really need to have that thing removed, bro,” Dare said.
Trey followed their line of sight to his ass. He blew out his cheeks and released a slow breath. “Lost a bet,” he said to Reagan.
She laughed. “I have one of those.” She slid the band of her panties down to show the single word tattooed on her right hip. It said LUNCH beside an arrow that pointed toward her mound.
Trey produced a sound that made Reagan fear he needed the Heimlich.
“What is it?” Dare asked, straining his neck to try to see around Trey.
“Nothing,” he said and wrapped his towel around her waist. He reached for his clothes and got dressed, while she dried off her legs with his towel.
She shook her head and laughed. “My bandmates have a sick sense of humor.”
“I know the feeling,” Trey said.
“My ex-bandmates,” Reagan clarified. She peeked around Trey’s body to grin at Dare. “You guys wouldn’t make me get LUNCH tattooed on my hip, would you?” She winked at him and showed him her tattoo.
The shocked expression on Dare’s face deserved to be captured on film and hung in a gallery. “That’s pretty fucked up,” he said.
“Oh, I get it now,” Trey said and laughed. “The arrow is pointing to your box. Lunch box.”
“A little slow on the uptake today,” Dare said. “Too little blood in your brain, bro?”
“Shut up. What kind of ass would make a woman get that tattooed on her hip?”
“Same kind of ass that would make you and Brian get matching girlie tattoos on your asses,” Dare said.
“I got off easy,” Reagan said. “Our bassist lost the same bet. He has a tat on his ass that says Emergency Entrance with an arrow that points to his… I’m sure you can guess.”
“I refuse to ever introduce you to Eric,” Trey said. “If he hears that, I know what tattoo I’ll be forced to get the next time I lose a bet.”
Dare massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m so glad my bandmates aren’t douche bags.”
“Me too,” Reagan said. “Should I come back tomorrow? I should probably practice for the tour on decent equipment. My guitar is a piece.”
“Yeah, you should do that. Do you need me to send the car for you?”
Hmm, let me see… Ride in the limo back to Dare Mills’ fabulous mansion or take the city bus and hoof it from the nearest stop? Hard decision.
“That would be appreciated. I don’t have a car.”
“Just tell the driver what time he should pick you up in the morning.”
“Will do. Thanks again for giving me the chance to even audition.” Oh no, the gushy fangirlness was returning. “I can’t believe I’m going on tour with Exodus End. This is so freaking amazing!”
“We’re lucky to have you,” Dare said, obviously just being a nice guy. Reagan was the lucky one.
“Thanks,” she managed to say. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Later, Dare,” Trey said.
Trey waited for her outside the dressing room. She removed her wet panties and tucked them in her pocket before slipping into her cargo pants and combat boots. Trey led her back through the maze that was his brother’s house and out the front door to the portico over the driveway. A sleek, midnight-blue limousine sat waiting for them. Reagan squeaked excitedly and gave Trey a crushing hug before diving through the open door into the backseat. The white leather seats were arranged in a u-shape around a console in the middle of the floor. Fluorescent blue tube lights circled the perimeter of the ceiling giving everything a sultry blue glow. Before Trey even settled into the seat beside her, she was already fiddling with the console in front of her shins.
“Is this a wet bar?” she asked.
Trey reached for a remote control and started pushing buttons. Music blared from the speakers.
“Oh, I love this song!”
He pressed another button and the center of the console slowly rose to eye-level. “Do you want something to drink?”
“I’m drunk on life. And two inhaled sex on the beach cocktails, but you can have something, if you’d like.”
“I’m hungry for lunch, actually,” he said.
Her face flamed. She never should have shown him that tattoo. “I like you and all, Trey, but I’m not ready to spread my legs and offer you lunch.” Okay, that was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that. She had to play a little hard to get. Very little.
“I meant food. I haven’t eaten all day.”
Her face fell. “Oh.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, sure. Can we stop by my work first? I need to quit my job.”
He lifted a phone receiver and handed it to her.
“I don’t want to call them. I want to do it in person. From a limo. I might even moon them.”