Page 25 of Wicked Design
“You didn’t know or guess?”
“About what?”
“Me drawing—wait. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” His big mouth had struck again. “Let’s forget it.”
“How? Now I’m curious. You were drawing me? Hold on.” Her gaze turned inward then her face brightened. “After your pad fell on the parlor floor, you looked like you wanted to hurl. That was me you were doing?”
“Just an outline. Your umbrella intrigued me. Thought I’d try something different with it.”
She drooped. “Good to know my parasol finally got you to notice me.”
He should have confessed his months-long interest in her, but couldn’t. Not yet, at least. Despite her easygoing nature and his comfort level with her, he wasn’t that brave. “It’s a cool umbrella—parasol. Haven’t seen anything like it around.”
“That’s because I made it, and most people think it’s weird.”
“Screw them. It’s beautiful.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks. But that’s still not what I wanted to ask.”
He wasn’t surprised. “Since I’m clearly not good at guessing or reading minds, what do you want to know?”
“Your real name.”
She kept blindsiding him. Her asking him here and her impromptu striptease were awesome. This, not so much. He brushed a stray hair off his cheek.
“Is it that bad?”
“It’s not me.”
“Why?”
Sometimes she was too direct. “Do I look like a Cornell—Cory for short—Phillipe Wadsworth the Third to you?”
She worked her mouth but didn’t completely hide her smile. “Nope. You’re right. I like V better.” She tapped his thigh and slid off the bed. “I’ll get us some beers so we can eat.”
He pulled the Styrofoam cartons from the bags. “Do I get to ask you any questions?”
“Fire away. I have nothing to hide.”
She bent at the waist, unknowingly displaying her luscious ass and exposing her slick cleft as she pulled beers from the fridge.
His shaft stirred. “Do you get along with your folks?”
“Always have, except for a brief period during my teens when hormones made me nuts. Or at least that’s what I’ve been blaming my bad behavior on. They forgave me for back then and want me to do whatever I want as long as it makes me happy and isn’t illegal.”
“How’d you get so lucky?”
She padded to the bed, drinks and utensils in hand. “I think the way we interact with one another is because they’re naturists, nonjudgmental, easygoing to the extreme. I grew up in a nudist colony. They own and operate one not too far from here. We talk or text all the time. Next time I visit, I’ll take you with me. You look great naked.”
