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“I wouldn’t. Joan can be a bit flirty.”
“And they are a couple?”
“They are…” I paused, thinking. “They are Filipe and Joan. Honestly, they defy definitions, Ciaran. Folks around here don’t like being put in a box.”
“Right. Good to know. Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”
Ciaran turned to leave.
“Wait. I wanted to talk to you about something.” It left it vague enough for him to fear I’d bring up his beach erection.
Ciaran stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. It was obvious he didn’t want to be alone with me.
He stammered out, “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“About what?” I asked innocently. I was enjoying his discomfort. “Oh, you mean that?” I pointed at his crotch. Even though there was no sign of tenting in his swim trunks, his face turned bright red. “I mean, we can discuss it if you want to, but your secrets are yours…for now.”
His throat bobbed and he let out a long breath.
“Okay.”
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, Ciaran. Do you, or do you not, have a formal suit for tonight?”
Ciaran sighed. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s what I thought.” I wanted to avoid him but I couldn’t in good conscience on this front. “Can’t have you becoming the family embarrassment. The Vaulteneaus have an image to maintain. I think I have something that will fit you.”
15
CIARAN
Iwas hyper aware of my state of undress once I entered Matthias’s walk-in closet. I stared, marveling at all the clothing I saw there—casual attire, swim and surf gear, suits of every style and color, a hundred pair of shoes, and all sorts of accessories, like belts, ties and bow ties, cuff links, and trays upon trays of watches.
There was even a door in the rear, the kind with a bank vault opening device. Of all the valuables out in the open, I couldn’t imagine what needed to be secured behind a safe.
Swim trophies? Stacks of money? Pirate’s treasure? Nuclear codes?
I was about to make a sarcastic joke, but when I turned to face him, I caught him removing his wetsuit and hanging it over a hook.
My brain severed its connection to my lungs because I forgot how to breathe.
I hadn’t given thought to what he’d wear beneath it—okay, that was a lie, I very much did wonder—but I didn’t think it would be nothing.
He wore nothing beneath the wetsuit.
Was I getting lightheaded or was the room spinning all on its own?
Matthias threw on a pair of shorts before I saw much of anything.
Powerful legs. Sculpted pecs with a smattering of light brown chest hair. Chiseled abs.
A bit of butt cheek. Shaved pubic area.
I turned quickly but I noticed the grin forming on his face.
Every square inch of me felt hot.
“The fabric will chafe if worn for too long,” Matty explained.
