I look down at my yellow string bikini, one I’ve had since high school but hadn’t warn since then, because Brandon wouldn’t let me. I look back up at Neil, tilting my head to the side curiously. “Do girls not wear bikinis on the east coast?”
“They do,” he replies, “but it’s the full package of you. The long blonde hair, the pretty blue eyes, the yellow of the swimsuit… the amount of fabric missing from the bottoms.” He grins with a wink and I roll my eyes. “You just scream Cali girl. You’re beautiful.”
My cheeks flush at that, and I busy my hands by pulling my freshly washed wet hair into a messy knot on top of my head so I don’t get any chlorine in it. Green hair is so not cute unless you purposely dye it that way. My eyes come back to Neil just as I’m securing the elastic in my hair when I swear I hear a noise that sounds very close to a whimper come from his direction and see his eyes are shamelessly glued to my breasts. Taking stock of my body, I can feel my top has ridden up and I’ve got a serious case of underboob happening while my arms are lifted. I put the man out of his apparent misery and climb up the steps and down into the hot water, taking a seat across from him.
“Jets?” he asks, his hand hovering over the button on the lip of the spa, and I close my eyes.
“That’s the best part,” I reply with a small smile, and when he hits the button, the hot tub comes to life, a jet hitting me right in the spine, and I moan in pleasure. “You really know how to live, Viking.”
His voice is sensual but sincere when he responds, “Mm, but I’ve only just started living two days ago, goddess. Just been surviving up ’til then.”
I peek one eye open at that, wanting to know what he means. I know nothing of his past, and I still have a lot to learn about who he is. Not as a person. I get that. He’s everything that is good and right in this world. But I don’t know much about his life besides that he’s a therapist who runs a security business and is part owner of a BDSM club on the side. And I only know about the BDSM club because of special circumstances—i.e. the shit that happened last year with my sister. It’s called Club Alias for a reason; members’ identities are sacred and the place is like Fight Club—you don’t speak about it.
Something tells me there’s a lot more to Dr. Neil Walker than what’s easily assumed by public knowledge.
“Wanna play a game, Doc?” I ask in a creepy voice, mimicking the scary little fucker on the trike in the Saw movies.
“I never realized how much like Seth you are until today,” he replies instead, and a lazy smile pulls at my lips.
“My sister said since the day she met him that he’s like me but with a penis. I chose to ignore the fact that she then proceeded to have sex with that penis. I have enough psychologic damage to wonder why my sister fell in love with a man who reminds her of me,” I joke, and he shakes his head at that.
“Then I’ll choose to ignore the fact that I fell in love with a woman who reminds me of him with a vagina,” he replies, and I wrinkle my nose.
“Ew.”
“Right?”
“No, I mean the vagina part. Don’t call it that.” I stick out my tongue.
“Are you twelve, goddess? I’m a medical professional,” he points out.
“You’re a head doctor. Not a vagina doctor,” I argue, sneering the word.
He lifts a brow. “You’d be amazed how much the mind is affected by what’s between one’s legs, Ms. Quill.”
My nipples go hard at his heated look as his eyes lower to my pussy even though it isn’t visible beneath the bubbling water. “Fair enough,” I concede. “But you never answered me.”
“What game would you like to play?” he asks.
“I feel like… it would be against some kind of rule for you to be my actual therapist if we’re in this… relationship, no?”
He nods slowly. “I can verify that it would be unethical to be your doctor in an official capacity, yes.”
“And since I’ve agreed to now be resident of this estate, as you put it, and there is not