“Oh, sweet Lord!”

A voice comes behind us, and I let out a yelp, spinning to see—

Zelda standing in the doorway in a chic cocktail dress, utterly scandalized.

“Excuse me.” she says in a faint voice. “I didn’t realize you had… Company.”

I stand there, frozen in horror. Naked.

Frozen, and naked.

Did I mention the nakedness?

Kill me now.

Seriously, let the great swampy grounds of Florida open up and suck me into their slimy depths to be forever munched upon by leeches because OH MY GOD is this really happening? I’m stark naked in front of Dash’s grandmother—and I can’t seem to move a muscle.

Luckily, Dash seems to recover. He grabs my towel from the floor, and shoves it at me, leaping to block her view of my, well, everything.

“Grandma!” he blurts in a strangled voice. “I… We… We were just…”

“Checking me for leeches!” I squeak.

Zelda arches an eyebrow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days.” She takes a deep breath, recovering her composure. “Guests are arriving. I suggest you get ready. The dress code is cocktail, by the way,” she adds, shooting me a look. “Not Spring Break.”

11

Dash

Callie flees back to her room, leaving me alone to walk straight back into the shower and turn it to the coldest setting. But even the icy water can’t give me amnesia, because I know the sight of her naked body is going to be branded on my memory for the rest of my damn life.

And what a body…

I stifle a groan, trying to focus on dressing for the gala. Tux, shirt, bow tie—

—Callie’s bare curves, still damp and glistening, the dark pink of her taut nipples—

I sit down on the edge of the bed and put my head between my legs. Anything to get the blood moving upwards, away from my painfully hard dick.

God, how am I supposed to function now? I have to spend the rest of the night making polite small talk with the toast of Palm Beach, when all I want to do is march down that hallway and show Callie exactly what I would have done if Zelda hadn’t opened the door. How I would touch her…

All the ways I can make her moan.

Nope.

I get to my feet again, trying to remember the reasons that would be a very bad idea.

Because the sex would be too good?

Nope, try again.

Because Zelda is expecting me to do my Dashford duty downstairs?

Zelda. Duty.

Shit.

What if this unwelcome interruption screws our whole plan? Right now, Callie isn’t feeling so much like a fake girlfriend as a very real temptation, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to let our guard down.

We’re running out of time to convince Zelda to release my trust. And, sure, I seem to forget about the whole point of this trip every time Callie smiles at me, but if we head back to New York tomorrow without locking it down?