I scramble to my feet and nearly topple over, my balance and coordination off. Kodiak hops to his feet and grabs me by the waist to steady me, and then we’re off to the pool house.
As soon as we’re locked inside, Kodiak tries to fuse our lips, but my mouth tastes like booze and chips. Also, I’d like a few minutes to freshen up and change into my special New Year’s lingerie.
“I need five minutes.” I push on his chest and his lips turn down in a frown. “It’ll be worth the wait.” I skirt around him and rush into the bathroom, locking the door behind me so he doesn’t get any ideas and try to follow me.
Although Kodiak is adept at picking locks, so if he really wanted to get in, he could.
Regardless, I know he’ll give me the privacy I need.
I snuck out here for five minutes earlier in the night, when Kodiak was distracted by watching hockey highlights with BJ and smuggled my New Year’s outfit into the bathroom so the surprise wouldn’t be ruined if Kodiak got to my bag before I did at the end of the night.
I quickly brush my teeth and strip down, then pull on my new sexy lacy business. It’s the same color as my name and leaves basically nothing to the imagination since it’s sheer and 90 percent lace and a few scraps of satin that cover the naughtiest of my bits. I made it myself, and it wasn’t easy because lace and satin are delicate materials to work with.
I run a brush through my hair and do one final spin before I open the bathroom door and peek out into the bedroom. The lights have been dimmed and there’re two champagne glasses sitting on the nightstand, although I’m unsure if they’re filled with actual champagne or just juice, since we’re both already pretty sloshed. Not so much that sex will be sloppy, but enough that if he made a butt stuff mention I might entertain it. For a second. Then I’d laugh in his face.
Aside from the champagne, there’s an open box of condoms, two foil squares already set on top. There are also two towels stacked neatly at the foot of the bed—Kodiak is nothing if not prepared—because changing the sheets post-sex is a pain in the ass when we’re both half-drunk.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Naked. His elbows are propped on his knees and his head is bowed. I’d say he’s looking at his phone, but there’s no screen glow coming from between his knees.
“Giving your peen a pep-talk?” I ask as I take a step toward him.
He holds up one of the bananas—The Superman one— with one hand and the cape he must have removed with the other. “Wanna tell me why you’re playing dress up with bananas?”
I freeze. I’m torn between smacking it out of his hand and wanting to disappear back into the bathroom and never coming out again. Instead of doing either, I blurt, “They’re peen costumes.”
Kodiak’s dark brows pull together in a villainous-looking furrow that makes my knees weak and my vagina excited. “Peen costumes?”
I want them out of his hands before I explain any further, or he gets the idea to do something horrible, like put it to use. “Why don’t you give that to me.” I hold out my hand like I’m asking a toddler for a pair of sharp scissors.
“Did you make this?” Kodiak arches the brow with the slash mark from when he got stitches when he was young. It’s so hot. I really hope this conversation doesn’t ruin our night.
I shake my head and make a grab for it, but he holds it out of reach.
“Did you buy it?”
“No.” It comes out a meek whisper. “Just give it to me. Please.”
“If you didn’t make it and you didn’t buy it, where did it come from?”
“Can we just talk about this later? After sex maybe?” I launch myself at him and make a grab for the stupid banana, but Kodiak is much faster and much more coordinated than I am. Even when he’s drunk. And especially when I’m drunk.
He nabs me around the waist and does some roll thing where I end up under him on the bed. He straddles me, his knees on either side of my thighs and folds back on his knees holding the banana between us. His erection points at me like an accusing finger.
“Do you seriously want to dress my dick up like a Superhero?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head and close my eyes, running my hand up his thigh, inching toward his peen. If I can distract him, we can avoid this conversation. At least until after we’ve had sex.
“Really? ’Cause the dressed-up bananas tell a different story, Lavender. What’s the deal?”
My fingers bump up against his hand and I’m forced to crack a lid. He’s no longer holding the cape and now he’s barricading his peen. I sigh. I guess I’m going to have to explain. “My mom made the costume.”
His brow furrows again.
I don’t offer any more information. It only takes zero point-zero-zero-nine seconds for him to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
Sheer horror crosses his face, and he whips the banana across the room. It slams into a hard surface and makes a squishy thud sound when it hits the floor. “What the fuck, Lavender?”
“It was clean!” I rush to explain. “I guess my mom was washing them and Maverick found them this morning before he left and he dressed up all the bananas we had and there was a banana orgy happening in the dining room and then my dad walked in and freaked out, but he missed two and I brought them here so I could show you that we’re really not all that weird with the duct taping you to your computer chair and me riding dildos in your lap. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t even know what to do with all of that information.” He runs a hand through his hair. The other one is still raised in the air like he’s afraid to touch anything with it. “I mean, I knew your parents were weird, but that’s next level.”
“I know. I just thought it would be funny to show you. I don’t honestly want to dress up your dick with anything but lipstick rings when I blow you. Which I can do, right now, if you’re interested.” Anything to change the subject, especially since we’re both naked and thankfully Kodiak’s boner hasn’t deflated despite the really awkward conversation we’re having.
“I need to wash my hands first,” he declares and rolls off the bed, hopping to his feet in one smooth surge.
He crosses over to the kitchen and finds the discarded cape, stuffing it into my bag so there are no reminders of the weirdness left as a distraction. I also rummage around in my bag for lipstick, which I rarely use, apart from when I’m going to give my boyfriend a blowy. I quickly apply a coat while Kodiak uses his forearm to turn on the water. He spends a good minute washing his hands and I just stand in the middle of the room waiting.
He turns off the tap and dries his hands on a fresh dishtowel and turns to me. Which is when he finally notices what I’m wearing. His eyes rove over me on a slow, hot sweep and his erection, which had started to deflate a little, springs back to attention.
He raises one hand, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair, his bicep flexing deliciously. I let my gaze move over him in a slow, appreciative sweep. He’s beyond beautiful with his arctic-green northern light eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. He’s both severe and pretty at the same time. Everywhere he goes, he turns heads, not just because he’s otherworldly beautiful, but his size also makes him stand out. And when he’s naked, he’s a glorious masterpiece, all ridges and planes and defined muscles.