Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [59]
“Just the basics. That you’re a writer here on retreat. That I saw you through the webcam and thought you were hot so came up to meet you.”
She sucked in her breath. “Whoa, he knows you watched me?”
“Relax, snowflake. He has no idea what I watched you doing. I promised you that was just between us, remember? He thinks I just saw you walking around the house or working at the computer. Clothes on.” He winked. “And he thinks I then rudely shoved my way into your retreat with no regard for your privacy.”
She smiled with relief, then uttered her next thought. “Though I guess he knows we’re sleeping together now.”
Braden shrugged with his usual confidence. “Wouldn’t make sense for me to still be here barging in on your retreat if we weren’t. But it’s no big deal.”
Ah, the statement reminded her—these were playboy types who had lots of girlfriends, lots of wild affairs. It eased her mind about meeting Tommy, under the circumstances, but also forced her to remember she was one of many. So it was a darn good thing she wasn’t getting attached to Braden, and a good reason to keep making sure she didn’t.
As she watched her lover walk out the door, it occurred to her she’d been in this house not quite a week yet. But in that time, she’d written half a book and had the most outrageous, scintillating affair that she ever—or never—could have imagined.
“So what’s the deal with this girl at your house?” Tommy asked as they sat watching the snow fall out the window and sharing a couple of beers.
Braden was surprised Tommy hadn’t asked more about Laura yesterday, but skiing had kept interrupting talking. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer, given the promise he’d made Laura about keeping the specifics just between them. “Let’s just say,” he began, “that I’m . . . expanding her sexual horizons.”
Tommy’s curiosity was clearly piqued. “Details?”
Ah, just what Braden couldn’t provide. Maybe he’d said too much already—so he’d at least try to keep it simple. “Don’t get me wrong, I think she liked sex before, but”—he grinned—“she likes it better now. She’s . . . losing her inhibitions.”
Tommy laughed. “Under your expert tutelage, right?”
“Something like that.” And Braden knew he should shut up if he really wanted to keep his promise, but thinking about those inhibitions that had been dropping away from her, falling as smooth and effortless as the snow outside, he felt compelled to add, “I like watching it happen, watching her let herself go. I think I’m coaxing something out of her that no other guy has ever bothered to look for in her before.”
Tommy’s expression dripped with disbelief. “If you tell me she’s like a butterfly bursting free of her cocoon, dude, I’ll throw up.”
Braden just laughed. He’d apparently gotten a little too insightful there. But if it changed the topic, that was probably a good idea. “You’re just sour on women right now,” he told his buddy. “You need to snap out of it.”
“You’re right. I do.” Tommy took a swig from his longneck. “But something about the same old snow bunnies isn’t working for me. It’s not that I want another big relationship—I don’t, not for a long time anyway—but I seem to attract such . . . total airheads.”
Braden raised his eyebrows. “This is news to you?” Braden had skied with Tommy enough in the eight years since they’d become neighbors and friends—and gone with Tommy to enough bars, too—to know the girls who generally approached him. He was right—he drew rich little ski bunnies without a thought in their pretty heads beyond what was hot in skiwear this season and how much they wanted to get laid. It wasn’t that a girl needed to be a rocket scientist, but even Braden could see where the chicks Tommy drew would get old fast.
“I guess I never cared about that before. But now, even if it’s just a one-nighter, I’d like a woman I could at least have a decent conversation with before we fuck—know what I mean?”
“You need to make a change of some kind, dude,” Braden advised him.