The slumber shower was being held in the main event area of the Marigold Club, a spacious hall that they’d transformed into the cozy corners, food areas, game spots, and the props and self-photo area. The outside of the club boasted lush grounds peppered with fruit trees and different types of flowers, adding spots of color amidst all the green. There was a pool and tennis court somewhere in the back, but Cherisse stuck to a corner of the main hall porch area, arms pressed against the handrail that wrapped right around the hall.

She retrieved her phone from her pocket. Reba usually took care of the bulk of Sweethand emails, but sometimes, she’d get some stuff sent to her personal email, so she ensured to at least peek at her inbox daily. After deleting a bunch of spam and flagging a legit email about catering for a birthday party, she perused her social accounts. She’d already been tagged in a bunch of photos. There was even one with her and Keiran chatting with Ava and Eric. It had been taken just when the couple had arrived.

Her fingers had a mind of their own because they pulled up Keiran’s Instagram. She skimmed his feed, noting a photo of them that he’d reposted from Scott. They’d been captured working side-by-side, getting the place ready during the setup this morning. They both wore shorts and tees, flip-flops on their feet. The sexual tension swirling between them wasn’t obvious in the photo, but she remembered how hard it was for her not to think about the sex. The hot, satisfying, “this is gonna be a problem, but my body is a greedy bitch” sex.

They should talk. Lines were blurring, and she needed a firm grip on some self-control right now because no matter how sure she’d sounded to Keiran when she’d said they weren’t doing it again, her body would do the opposite. She’d gotten a taste, and damn if she didn’t want a repeat. There was a lot of that hard body she hadn’t explored yet. The last time hadn’t quenched her thirst. If her plan had been one and done, scratch an itch, sprinkle a little water on this drought period of hers, it had backfired spectacularly because it just fueled the want that was churning inside her.

“So, this is where you’re hiding.” As if she’d conjured him with her filthy thoughts, Keiran settled beside her.

Her body tightened, responding to his proximity, while he remained casually propped against the railing.

“I’m not hiding.” She forced herself to relax. He was doing it again, trying to get a rise out of her.

“Well, I’m here. Care to finish our chat from earlier?”

She didn’t want to do this. She wanted to go home. She wanted to feel his strong hands cupping her ass again, massaging her flesh, stroking her thighs. Her fingers dug into the railing. She drank in the way his black sleeveless tank fit to his chest and showed off his arms but refused to let her eyes drop below his waist. No. She’d caught enough glimpses of his ass and thighs in those plaid boxers. His sleepwear wasn’t flashy in any way, but she’d had to mentally slap herself several times throughout the party to stop from gaping.