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“It’s an iPhone, not your asshole. Calm the fuck down,” Sullivan said, dryly. “Just show me the pictures.”
Torin held his screen out.
Eddie was in a dress that seemed to be affixed to her body by two threads and a prayer. It was a shiny silver fabric and just a couple of pieces of silk draping in only the most essential places. Her nipples were clearly visible.
It was a still photo taken as she walked down a runway and her dark hair was slicked back off of her face. Her lips were a dark burgundy color, her eyelids dusted with silver shimmery shadow. She looked younger, maybe mid-twenties.
Sullivan kept his mouth shut because if he opened it something dirty as fuck was going to spill out. Something that a man should not say about his female friend.
Torin swiped to another photo.
Eddie was in nothing but black underwear, sitting in a chair, knees wide apart, forearms resting on her thighs. The leather-ish panties did in fact cover her, but only the very center slit of her most intimate area. He’d seen a lot of pussy in his lifetime and well, that was a hint of pussy. Like the edge of pussy. The partial pussy. The kind where you thought you saw a teasing little glimpse but you didn’t actually and then when you studied it too long to see if you could see it again your eyes crossed and it all went blurry.
His vision went blurry.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
His mouth went dry.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
He couldn’t breathe.
Blinking hard, he tried to control himself, be objective.
Nothing wasactuallyshowing. Her expression was classic model blankness with a dash of hostility. He didn’t even know Eddie could make that kind of expression, it was so far off from her actual personality. This was a naughty woman in her naughty black underwear and he wanted to both cover her with a blanket and whisk her off to a private place to be naughty with her.
“She looks hot,” Torin said, expanding the photo so he had a close up shot of her…
Sullivan knocked his phone right out of his hand when he realized his cousin was blowing up Eddie’s crotch. It slid down the bartop.
“What the fuck!” Torin said, reaching over to pick up his phone. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Stop looking at her shit,” he fumed. “You’re a dirtbag. If you expand that pic again I will knock you in your fucking face.” He already had his hands in fists, ready to let loose with a punch.
“Relax,” Torin said, not sounding at all worried that he was about to get his nose broken. “The photo is on the internet, bro. Anyone can see it.”
He was right.
Sullivan felt like he was having a heart attack. He actually moved his fist to his chest and rubbed it. “That’s extremely upsetting.”
“You can’t actually see anything,” Torin said, clearly trying to reassure him. “I mean, sure, that’s a fair amount of skin, but the important stuff is covered.”
“I want you to die for showing me that,” Sullivan told him. “I could have gone my entire life without ever knowing that existed in a public space and I would have been cool with it. You’ve wrecked my days and destroyed my nights.”
Torin started laughing. Jesse was eyeing him like he’d lost his mind entirely.
Sullivan never drank when he was tending bar, but he was tempted to yank the whiskey out of Jesse’s hand and down it in one swallow.
Torin shook his head. “What did I do besides an internet search? Or are you talking about the fact that I just inadvertently exposed you for being a complete emotional mess when it comes to Miss Edwina Hunt?”
“Holy shit, O’Toole. You’re in love with her,” Jesse said, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Sullivan dropped his fist. “What? No, I’m not. That’s insane. I’ve spent three days with her and she has a boyfriend. No one falls in love in three days.”
Did he like her? Of course. Did he wish she was single? Absolutely.
But that was as far as he was willing to take this conversation.
