6 - Jocelyn
~ 6 ~
JOCELYN
It was one thing to be startled by the sudden appearance of a total stranger, even when that stranger happened to be tall, dark, and breathtakingly handsome.
But when that stranger shoves a delicious-looking slice of chocolate mousse cake your way?
Well… you’re gonna eat it.
“Umm… hi?”
The man was a monster, from tip to toe. He was six-foot-five if he was an inch, with dark hair and wild green eyes that looked feral and unyielding. As he turned toward the window, those eyes glimmered like jewels in the pool’s dim light.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
I didn’t stop him when he took my hand and slid a fork into it. Nor did I protest when he winked at me, his handsome face already broken into a huge, beautiful smile.
Holy shit.
I cut the tip off the slice of cake without breaking eye contact, and brought it slowly to my mouth. The chocolate melted silkily against my tongue, the rich sweetness intermingling perfectly with the aftertaste of red wine.
“I don’t know who your friend here is,” I smiled at the others, “but I like him already.”
His smile grew even wider, curling into something more sexy and sensual. Something tingled between my legs.
“What woke you up?” asked Kayden. “I thought you were sleeping through to—”
“The smell of cheeseburgers,” the man interjected with a grin. “Which, by the way, you didn’t even share.”
He shot an accusatory glance at the others, who only sighed.
“Jocelyn, meet Andre,” announced Bishop, finally. “Andre, Jocelyn.”
The dark-haired man took my hand in his and kissed it lightly. The way he did it gave me instant goosebumps.
“He’s an old friend of mine,” said Bishop. “He’s also acting as pastry chef for next week’s dinner party.”
At that, Kayden nearly choked. “Pastry chef my ass,” he grumbled.
“Was my cake not delicious?” Andre challenged.
“It was amazing, actually,” I admitted. Reaching out with the fork, I took a second bite. “Damn. Best I’ve ever tasted.”
“It’s an old family recipe,” Andre said charmingly. “You can thank my great-grandmother.”
“Or, alternatively,” scoffed Kayden, “you can thank Sara Lee.”
He pointed back toward the kitchen, where a familiar-looking box with a bright red logo rested on the countertop. Bishop laughed through his nose.
“Next time, you should throw the box out,” Kayden smiled, picking up a fork. He cut himself a piece of cake and nodded approvingly. “Still damn good, though.”
We tore into the cake together, as the three of us so often did. Dessert was a big thing back home. None of us ever passed it up.
“I thought you were going to market for supplies,” said Andre. Turning to face me, he added his most panty-dropping smile yet. “Neither of you told me you were bringing the most beautiful woman in Mykonos back here, to go swimming.”
“Where’d you pick this guy up again?” Kayden squinted at his friend.
“Syria,” Bishop mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate.
“Can you take him back there?”
“Not without an air escort, no.”
Andre ignored them. He leaned forward into the table, flexing a pair of forearms bigger than most women’s legs.
“Next time you bring women back here, make sure you bring enough for everyone,” he grinned. “But for now, I’ll take this one.”
He extended an arm, but I ducked deftly beneath it. The pool looked amazing, and I wanted to feel that warm water engulfing my body. Plus, I was getting a little self-conscious standing there, only half-dressed. Potentially with cake on my face.
“Wait a minute,” Andre snapped his fingers. “Hang on.”
He ran off, through the kitchen and back into the house. He returned just as quickly however, his long legs taking him right past the stone benches and across the Italian pavers of the beautiful atrium.
Dangling from one hand, he was holding a yellow string bikini.
I set my hand on my hip. “What’s that?”
“A bikini.”
“Someone else’s bikini,” I balked. “Not mine.”
Andre laughed, and even his laugh was beautiful. “Are you kidding? Did they even show you the house?”
“Well, no, actually. The kitchen, maybe. But—”
“She was really hungry,” Bishop offered.
“Well, the kitchen isn’t the only place in this mansion that’s fully stocked,” Andre explained. “The manor has twelve bedrooms, and fourteen baths. Whole closets full of unworn clothing, all ready for new guests.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Andre repeated. The way it rolled off his tongue in four distinct syllables sounded exotic. “Look here. It’s still got the tags on.”
He handed me the bikini. Sure enough, it was new with tags.
“Were there any bathing suits bigger than this one?” I quipped, holding it up.
“Are you accusing me of choosing the tiniest possible bikini, so we could get the very best view of your spectacular body?” Andre said, trying to sound accusatory.
His use of the word ‘we’ sent a flare of heat through me.
“Well…”
“Because unnecessarily covering up even the tiniest bit of skin on that body,” he pointed at me, “would be a serious crime.”
Both of the other men groaned.
“Alright, maybe I could take him back to Syria,” Bishop grunted. “But not tonight. Right now, I want to swim.”
The two of them finished stripping down to their boxers, then jumped right in. Kayden did a backflip that reminded me sharply of summers in my backyard. Bishop cannonballed.
“It’s better to wear that bikini than go in your clothes,” shrugged Andre, before they surfaced. He rolled his shirt over his head, and for the next few seconds, I was mesmerized by his long, striated body. Like the others, it was rippled up and down with taut, heart-stirring muscle. But in his case, it was also covered in black and gray tattoos.
“Besides,” he said, leaning in. He lowered his voice to a whisper that was both husky and suggestive, “you don’t want those panties getting wet now, do you?”