21. Dutton
Dutton
W hen my workout is over, the first thing I do is text Bridgette. We may be in the middle of a shitstorm, but that doesn’t lessen my desire to be with her.
Dutton : Feel like coming over when you’re done with work?
My bet is that she’ll want to meet up on neutral territory or at her place, and I won’t say no to either offer.
But now that Mickey and the rest of the guys know about us, there’s really no reason to hide.
And if we keep sneaking around just to avoid pissing anyone off, that just doesn’t sit well with me. It’s like admitting they’re right.
And they’re not. They’re wrong as hell. Not just about me and the lengths I’ll go to to take care of my girl, but also about Bridgette. She’s stronger than they give her credit for. Hell, she’s stronger than she gives herself credit for.
I’m fresh out of the shower and throwing on sweats so I can head to the dining hall to grab some dinner when my phone vibrates.
Bridgette : Yeah, I do. My last client should be here soon, and she usually takes about an hour. Sound good?
Dutton : That sounds perfect.
There’s no one I know in the dining hall, so I eat my baked chicken and roasted chicken in solitude, and that’s just fine by me.
I’ve had far too many people in my face lately, and I don’t want to be a grumpy asshole when I’m hanging out with Bridgette, so it’s probably good that none of my teammates are here to piss me off.
An hour and a half later, I’m sprawled out on my bed wearing sweats and reading about corporate strategies.
I’m also trying to stay awake. This shit is boring as hell.
I swear my eyes are half closed when I hear a soft knock at the door.
Bridgette peeks her head in, and that’s all it takes. I’m wide awake.
“You should have texted. I’d have come down to meet you.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I am capable of walking up stairs without an escort. I don’t even have to use the handrail.”
I crack what I hope is a smile as I walk toward her and wrap my arms around her. She’s still wearing her coat, but I’m impatient. “I know exactly how capable you are,” I tell her. “But if I walk behind you, I get to watch your ass the whole time.”
Bridgette smiles and sets down a little bag I hadn’t realized she was holding. Hmmm…is she planning on staying over? Because that’s a plan I could get on board with. She trails a finger down the center of my bare chest. “There are other ways you can watch my ass. You do know that, right?”
“I had no idea,” I deadpan. And yes, my voice sounds exactly the same as it always does. “Please, tell me all about the ways I can watch your ass jiggle.”
Her smile is still in place, but her cheeks are bright and her eyes are wide. I can't tell if she’s nervous or excited. Maybe both?
“Well, I’m not sure what your plans are tonight, but?—”
“I thought we covered this already. Ass. Jiggling. Tits, too. All of you,” I say, smoothing my hands over the fabric of her coat and settling them at her waist.
She’s fiddling with the buttons on her coat now, and I’m ready for her to take it off so there’s one less layer between us.
“It’s amazing how in sync we are. Because the last twenty-four hours have been…
stressful, you know? And I was thinking about what we could do to unwind and relax.
And you seemed to like the dance hall, right? ”
I nod because I did like the dance hall, but mostly because I liked watching her in her element. I do not feel like being social tonight, or putting a shirt on, but I will if that’s what she wants. “Yeah, you want to go? Are they open?” I ask.
“I don’t know. But maybe we could stay in?” Bridgette asks, biting her lip.
This is a trick question. It has to be. She literally just mentioned that the dance hall is a good place to unwind, but now she wants to stay in?
I feel like I’m in a maze that’s also a minefield.
I’m not big on finesse, so I just say what’s in my head.
“Which one do you want? I’m fine with either, but if we go out, I have to put a shirt on,” I say, spreading my hands to demonstrate what I’ll be covering.
“So don’t get all pissed because you can’t ogle me.
And speaking of,” I say, tugging at the sleeves of her soft coat, “if we stay in, you’re probably going to want to take this off.
I know for a fact that Fallon made Ollie turn the heat on. ”
Bridgette takes a step away from me as she wraps her hands protectively around her body, like she’s holding the coat in place. “I want to dance,” she tells me, “but not at the dance hall. I want to stay here. I’ve been thinking about this since the first time I was up here.”
“Okay,” I say, still clueless about where this is going. “Should I put on some music? Move some furniture?”
“You should lie down on your bed,” she says. “Blue’s not home, is he?”
“No,” I answer, shaking my head and setting my laptop on my desk before I sprawl out on my bed. I’m not sure what Bridgette’s up to, but I do as I’m told. “He won’t be back for an hour or so.”
“That should work,” she says, but instead of snuggling up next to me and flipping through the channels until we can find one of those dance competitions or some shit, she just stands in the middle of the room, still wearing her coat.
She’s acting kinda weird, but we’ve had a stressful twenty-four hours.
“Did I ever tell you the biggest reason I moved to Bainbridge?” she asks.
“To be closer to your brother?” I guess.
“Yes, but also to be farther away from my mom. And my aunt Patti and cousin, Jocelyn. Family is supposed to take care of each other, at least, that’s what movies teach us, right?
And my parents never neglected us or anything like that, but when my mom found out that one of her twins was a little girl, she was picturing a mini-me, someone average height and slender.
Instead, she has a daughter who’s nearly six feet tall and weighs at least twice what she does. ”
I’m frowning now because first off, I feel like I punched the wrong Mikalski. Okay, I wouldn’t actually punch Bridgette’s mother, but still. Everything JT said this afternoon is starting to make sense.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I tell her. “Now take that damn coat off and come cuddle with me. We can watch a movie and make out.”
Bridgtte blushes, but shakes her head. “The terrible trio always said they wanted what was best for me, but that inevitably involved fad diets and drinking protein shakes for two meals a day. A couple Christmases ago, they got me a gym membership. I asked for suede knee-high boots.”
What the hell is wrong with her family? “That’s fucked up,” I blurt. “Did you sell the membership and buy the boots? And do you still have the boots? Would you like to wear them for me sometime? Just the boots, nothing else.”
She doesn’t crack a smile; she just keeps on talking. “I kept the membership and went three times a week. But instead of hitting the weights or doing water aerobics, I took a dance class. Well, a pole-dancing class.”
As my brain processes her words, I watch her strut over to the pole that’s a few feet in front of my bedroom door.
From my place on the bed, I have a perfect view of Bridgette as she runs her hand up and down the metal rod and then reaches for the belt of her coat.
She unties and unbuttons it slowly, dropping one shoulder and then the other.
Holy fucking hell.
Pale blue lace does its best to contain her breasts, but it’s an impossible job. Her matching see-through panties are just as pretty, the way they stretch across her lower belly, hips, and ass. Her creamy skin is on display, and I’m fucking here for it.
A minute later, her coat is in a puddle on the floor, and it can stay there. I can’t tear my gaze away from my girlfriend as she winds her body on the pole. Watching her in action on the dance floor was incredible, but this is fucking art.
It’s also fucking hot.
“So what do you think, Dutton? Should I dance here? For you?”
I’ve lost the ability to speak, so I nod enthusiastically.
“I’m just going to find the right playlist,” she says, fiddling with her phone.
While she’s otherwise occupied, and while there’s still blood flowing to my brain, I pull my phone from my pocket.
Dutton : When you get home, don’t come upstairs.
Blue : To my room?
Dutton : Yeah. Not for at least an hour. Make it two.
Blue : Fuck you. Class let out early so I’ll be home in twenty and I need a shower.
Dutton : Go for a swim.
Blue : Again, fuck you. It’s cold tonight.
Dutton : A cold swim is just what you need. You’ve got it so bad for a certain roommate of ours that I think a nice, cold, refreshing swim is exactly what you need.
Blue : What the hell? How is this about me? And I don't have the hots for Liza. That’s crazy. She hates me.
Blue : And nobody hates me! I’m the lovable one.
Blue : Besides, she has a boyfriend, doesn't she? She’s hardly ever here.
Dutton: That’s because she’s working all the time, dumbass.
I hear Bridgette’s music come on, and slide my phone back in my pocket.
I don’t have time to hear Blue whine about Liza.
Those two love to hate each other, and at this point, I don’t care if they ever stop arguing long enough to figure out that all that energy they spend bitching at each other could be put to better use.
That’s not my problem, and I’ve got better things to do right now than worry about the state of Blue’s love life. I’m busy with my own.