Read She's All In: Club 3, Book 1 Online
Authors: Cathryn Cade
She's All In: Club 3, Book 1 (29 page)
When Carlie and Sara were silent, she glanced down to see them exchanging a meaningful look. “What?”
She stepped out of her dress and picked up the tiny outfit. It wasn’t too bad, more like an old-fashioned swimsuit than anything else. She carefully unzipped the back. Thank God the fabric was stretchy, so it would fit…probably.
“His sub?” Carlie murmured, her blue eyes wide. “Really, Daise?”
Daisy could feel her cheeks heating, but she nodded. “He likes to be in charge all the time when it comes to sex.” She smiled wickedly at her friends. “And I like to let him.”
“Oh, good,” Sara said, holding up a pair of dark fishnet stockings with a smile. “Then you won’t mind that he wanted you to wear these with the outfit.”
Daisy rolled her eyes as the other women laughed.
Pink Night was in full swing, with a song by the nominal singer herself blasting, the dance floor full and drinks coming across the bar as fast as the three bartenders could run the big blenders. The night’s specialty drink was strawberry margaritas, and he’d get one for his Petal if she ever got the hell out here, but Dack was sticking to beer tonight. He was sipping on a cold bottle of Drop Top.
Jake stood beside him, in his usual Levis and leather vest, a pink carnation boutonniere his concession to the theme.
Dack tugged at his own T-shirt. The damn thing was too tight, as well as being a girly hue he’d never thought would grace his body, but the look in Daisy’s eyes when she’d seen it made it worth digging through the damn Dumpster outside his condo to get it back.
He’d tossed it in anger, but later, after he’d talked to his mom and Jake and Trace and Mason, he’d dug it out again. In the nick of time too, as the garbage truck had come chugging around the circle just as he found his trash bag among his neighbors’.
The garbage crew had not been happy to find an array of trash sitting on the pavement instead of in the Dumpster where their mechanical loader could handle it. He’d tipped them each a twenty, though, and they’d ridden off with a grin and a wave.
He’d taken the shirt and himself straight to the wash. He’d left his old sneakers outside, dumped his clothes and the T-shirt in the washing machine and himself in a long, hot shower. Smelled like an elephant had died in that Dumpster. The hot wash water might have something to do with the shirt’s snug fit.
“Nice crowd,” Jake said, looking around the club room with cool satisfaction.
“Uh-huh,” Dack agreed absently, his eyes on the women’s locker room door.
“Nice of Carlie to help us plan this,” Jake went on. “She’s a smart woman. Too bad she looks like she’s a lamb and I’m the big bad wolf every time I get within ten feet of her.”
“Yeah,” Dack agreed. If Daisy didn’t show her pretty ass, and soon, he was going in there, never mind that it was one area of the club that was inviolate to males. Then Jake’s words caught his attention, and he turned back to his friend.
“Wait a minute. Did you just express interest in a woman who wasn’t strapped to a spanking bench or other surface?”
Jake scowled at him, his square jaw bunching. “What? I just said she’s smart.”
Okay, this was weird. Jake had an absolute policy of no vanilla dating. He interacted with women here at the club, helping them act out their kinky fantasies. He “smacked ’em, cracked ’em, and sent ’em home”, as Trace so laconically put it.
But although Jake was a stern dom and didn’t flinch at inflicting a little pain if that was what a sub wanted, he was careful and tender with them afterward. He also lost interest in subs as soon as he hugged them good-bye and only scened with the same ones twice because there were fewer brave enough to go upstairs instead of romping down here.
“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” Jake took a long pull on his beer.
“Nothin’.” Dack shook his head, biting the inside of his own cheek to quell the grin that wanted to spread over his face. Right now the ex-military dom was giving off defensive vibes that would stop a bullet. Hell, Dack wanted to laugh out loud. Must be because he was happy, but he wanted his taciturn friend to find a woman who would make him feel like a million bucks too. And if it chanced to be the voluptuous Carlie, well, she was one of Daisy’s best friends.
His spidey sense tingled, and he turned, then froze. Daisy stood in the doorway, the light behind her gilding her bare skin and pale hair with gold.
She looked around. When she found him, she set one arm high on the doorframe and her other hand on her hip and cocked it, posing like a hot, old-fashioned seductress.
“Jesus,” he breathed. “Would you look at that?” She was so beautiful, she stopped his heart and sent need and lust roaring through him, straight to his cock.
The tiny garment nipped in her waist and shoved her breasts up high, soft flesh plumping up over the white band and cleavage spilling down between the pink vee in the center. Her hips swelled from the high-cut legs, and her strong, rounded legs, clad in fishnet stockings, went on forever. And above it all, her face, high cheekbones, soft mouth and those green eyes that twinkled with sultry, inviting heat just for him.
“The bunny ears are real cute,” Jake said.
“She have a tail?” Trace stopped on Jake’s other side. “Get her to turn around, will you?”
Dack glared at them warningly. Horndogs that they were, his friends were staring at her.
“If she does, it’s mine,” he growled. “Every inch of that belongs to me.”
Trace poked Jake with his elbow, and the two of them chuckled. Hell, let ’em laugh, because he was the lucky bastard she’d be with, not either of them. Dack grinned smugly at his friends and sauntered forward to claim his woman.
She smiled up at him, her eyes bright. Oh man, he hoped she wasn’t going to cry. “You like it?” she asked, sounding a little anxious. How the hell a woman who looked like her could be uncertain of her sheer sexiness was beyond him.
“Yes, I do,” he said fervently, letting his eyes trail down over her bodacious breasts and the rest of her, just waiting for his hands and his touch.
She sniffled, and he froze. “What, baby?”
“Oh, Dack,” she said, her voice shaky. “All this… It’s so sweet. But it reminds me, you know, that I-I have to live with the threat that it…might come back. Are you sure…?”
Ah hell. He pulled her into his arms, feeling her firm breasts press against him. He caught a glimpse of an areola over the white band, and it was the prettiest pink in the club tonight.
“Petal,” he said in his firmest dom voice. “We’re gonna live like you never had cancer and it’s never coming back. That’s all we can do. I am all in, baby.”
“Okay, Dack. Me too,” she said softly and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.
With her soft, sweet mouth under his, he barely heard the applause of their friends breaking out all around them.
About the Author
Cathryn Cade lives in beautiful North Idaho with her husband and a golden retriever puppy named Daisy. She loves to boat on the numerous lakes, bicycle, hike and garden. Indoors, she’s usually writing, but plays hooky to read, cook and quilt. She wishes she had time to catch up with her favorite TV series and that she could meet all her readers. Contact her @ these places:
www.facebook.com/cathryncade.author
www.goodreads.com/author/show/2796058.Cathryn_Cade
Look for these titles by Cathryn Cade
Now Available:
The Orion
Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bryght
Her Commander
Prince of Dragons
Deep Indigo
Hawaiian Heroes
Walking in Fire
Rolling in the Deep
Blooming in the Wild
Burning Up the Rain
Born to defend his people, he will sacrifice everything…for her.
Walking in Fire
© 2012 Cathryn Cade
Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1
Nawea Bay, a remote Hawaiian paradise, is just the haven Melia Carson needs to escape the chill of heartache. Instead, she finds herself swept up in a tropical heat wave, fueled by her unexpected attraction to a handsome native she meets on a snorkel tour.
He’s big, powerful, hot enough to melt her defenses—and he’s not all he seems. How else could he survive an injury that should have killed him…and why does she dream of him garbed in ancient native dress and wreathed in flames?
David “Malu” Ho’omalu is on the Big Island to find and destroy a cache of dangerous designer drugs before they can be sold to his people. Fending off amorous female tourists is part of the job, but one look in Melia’s blue eyes, and his instincts scream that she is his.
As Melia surrenders to the desire burning between them, she discovers more than a fiery heritage that defies modern logic. She discovers a man who would descend into
the molten
heart of the volcano to protect his island. And her…if she can find the strength to trust her heart to him.
Warning
:
Hot, hot Hawaiian hero with volcanic passion on his mind. Better pack a heat-proof bikini for this island paradise.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Walking in Fire:
Malu set the cooler down and leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulged. Melia realized she was staring again and looked quickly away. Darn it, she had to quit that. She had the mad urge to race out of the house and dive into the water again, to quell the flush of heat under her skin—equal parts arousal and embarrassment. She always seemed to be flushed around him, as if heat emanated from his very persona.
“You just saying dat because I have to cook so much when you’re here,” Leilani said to Malu, but she was smiling. “Dis man eat for days.”
“Hmm,” Melia answered. Hard not to notice when he sat across from her eating two helpings to the others’ one—he obviously had to fuel that physique.
“Maybe Melia cook for us, yeah?” He was laughing at her again, darn him. Not out loud, but that sensual mouth was tilted up at the corners, and his dark eyes held a suspicious gleam. She’d like to cook for him all right—a nice serving of ipecac. “
Melia paha
.”
Leilani laughed easily, then looked quickly at Melia. “Sorry, not laughing at you.
Malia paha
mean ‘maybe’. Close to your name.”
“Meh-lee-ah,” Malu said, rolling her name on his tongue. “You have a Hawaiian name.”
“Yes. It means plumeria. My parents spent their honeymoon here,” she said. “They liked the name.”
“So, you cook Hawaiian?” he went on, still with that gleam in his eyes. “Know any good Spam recipes?”
Melia frowned, wary of a trap. She knew the canned ground ham product was an island favorite, but she’d never actually eaten it. Malu grinned, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure I could come up with some recipes, just for you.”
Leilani shook her head at him. “She cook fresh, not canned. Anyway, dis girl here on vacation.”
“Yes, I am. Nice talking to you, Leilani.” Without looking at Malu, Melia turned and sauntered out the nearest door, which turned out to be the one to the rear lanai.
Behind her, she heard Malu say something to Leilani. Both of them laughed. She wondered if they were laughing at her, and then rolled her eyes at herself. That was so junior high. And Leilani was nice, even if Malu was a big recipe gone bad.
It was dark on the back lawn, just the light shining from the windows. The only sounds were the rustling of foliage and a few frogs piping in the forest.
Melia flipped her hair off her shoulders and blew out a long breath. Good grief, why did she let him fluster her this way? She wandered slowly along the lanai. The soft caress of the humid air and the sweet scents wafting on it soothed her. Walking on, she stopped to sniff a familiar acrid odor, then wrinkled her nose. Eww, some of the group were smoking pot, right up in the trees. She heard Clay or Jimmer laugh, and shook her head. What a useless waste of time, not to mention illegal.
She followed the faint sounds of island music around the corner. Frank was perched on the porch railing, playing a small ukulele. He smiled at her as she walked into the light of the tiki torches stuck in the garden. Curling up on one of the rattan loungers, she listened to the soft melody and let her mind drift.
She was bothered and bewildered by her attraction to Malu. She’d better handle it before she was bewitched. The Big Island was exerting its magic on her. That was it—he was part of the tropical ambience, like the lava flows, jet black against the green-and-gold mountainsides, like the turquoise water in the bay, the surf curling into frothy white on the golden, sandy beach.
Just another Hawaiian native, as beautiful as the fish eddying over the reef, the sea turtles paddling slowly along or the dolphins leaping joyously from the waves, as full of quiet power as the mountain that towered behind them. Hopefully without the menace.
