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“I’ll hit the vending machine down the hall,” Blaze said.
“Okey-doke,” mumbled Giselle wearily.
Asher watched as she stripped naked and daintily climbed into the bathtub. The warm, bubbly water rushed around her. She tilted her head back and let out a soft sigh. Asher couldn’t tear his eyes away. He watched her tip her hair back under the water, combing through it with her fingers. Then she turned over on her stomach, with her pretty feet up in the air. She looked like some kind of playful water nymph held captive in a bathtub.
He could hardly believe she was real.
Blaze returned and said, “I’ve got water and vending machine snacks.”
Giselle perked up. “Anything with peanut butter?”
He grinned and handed her a packet of crackers and an icy cold bottle of water. Giselle took them happily. She pulled her knees to her chest while she regenerated some energy, and the boys watched her with adoration. After a minute or so of this, she gave them a bemused smirk.
“I’m fine, you guys,” she assured them.
“You worked your ass off tonight,” Blaze remarked.
“Honestly, I’m in awe,” added Asher.
She shrugged and munched on her crackers. “It’s what my fans deserve.”
“We thought you were gonna collapse for a second there,” he replied.
“I was,” she answered. “But I’m okay now, thanks to the healing power of hot guys and a hot bath. Honorable mention to these peanut butter crackers, too.”
“Is there anything else you need? Or want?” Asher pressed.
She turned to him with a mischievous smile. She looked him up and down.
“To be honest, I feel a little vulnerable over here,” she began. “I mean, I’m totally naked and you guys have all your clothes on. How is that fair?”
Both guys knew exactly what she was doing. Neither of them minded in the least.
Anything for their favorite diva.
They obliged, taking off their shirts. The humid air rushed over Asher’s bare chest. Giselle bit her lip, her brown eyes wide. She tilted her head a little and said, “Come closer. I’ve been dying to ask you guys about your tattoos.”
Asher and Blaze moved to the edge of the tub. Giselle sat up, her perfect body on display. Her delicate little hands smoothed over a depiction of a gnarled tree branching up Blaze’s right shoulder and a wheel coated in flame up his left shoulder.
“You have a lot of ink,” she said to him. “It’s beautiful, but what does this stuff mean?”
“The Joshua tree reminds me of the desert, my hometown of Moab. The wheel represents my passion for riding, and the flames… Well, my name is Blaze,” he laughed.
“Makes sense,” she giggled. “It suits you.”
She turned to Asher. He held his breath and lifted his arm as she reached out to trace the words on the left side of his ribcage. Her fingertips burned on his skin. He felt almost dizzy being so close to her.
“Con fuoco,” she murmured. “That’s a musical term?”
He nodded. “It means ‘with fire.’”
He turned to show her the right side. She smiled. “Con brio.”
“‘With spirit,’” he answered. “I’ve been obsessed with music ever since my parents put me in piano lessons when I was ten. I’d already tried all kinds of sports and other extracurriculars, but none of them really stuck. My teacher was a grouchy old retired concert pianist named Josiah Burke, and I thought I would hate taking lessons with him. But the second my fingers touched the piano keys, it was like a whole world opened up inside me. Music has brought so much color into my life, and my tattoos are a reminder to always approach life with the same ‘fire’ and ‘spirit’ I take to music.”
“How romantic,” Giselle said with a brilliant smile.
“And what about you?” Blaze said, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “All that bare, virgin skin just begging for some ink.”
“Be careful. We’re bad influences,” Asher said.
She peered up at them seductively.
“Good. Because I want you to corrupt me,” she purred.
