Since she was no longer dancing on a nightly basis, her curves had rounded out some, but for the most part she liked what she saw when she looked in the mirror. Full breasts tapered to her toned waist then flared to curvy hips and thighs. In order to appeal to a wider audience, Jake had employed dancers of every shape, color, and size, from tall and athletic to petite and shapely, like her. Dancing had given her a great amount of confidence in herself, as had hearing from men that they liked a woman who was curvy and confident about her appeal.
She stretched and smiled at her reflection, feeling warm again all over. Warmer in some places than in others, judging by the way her wet lips rubbed against each other as she moved.
She gazed at her face, washed clean of her smeared mascara and makeup. Having her veneer of sophistication stripped from her when she was about to see the two men she wanted so much scared her a little. A tiny part of her wondered if they’d be interested in her without that mask she showed the rest of the world.
A little voice whispering in the back of her mind warned that she was on a slippery slope. Before she let her fantasies get too far out of control she needed to know what they wanted to talk to her about. She only half listened to that little voice of reason as she put on the T-shirt Quinten had provided and was enveloped in his scent. Arousal swelled inside her accompanied by a need for both men that went beyond the physical. What was the best-case scenario? The thought of both of them loving her and wanting her made the butterflies in her stomach shift and tumble in acrobatic maneuvers.
She held the T-shirt against her nose and breathed deep, and the fantasy returned. She was in the middle, surrounded by their warm, masculine bodies, their hands gently stroking her arms, her shoulders, her breasts, and her pussy. She pulled the lightweight sweatpants on, acutely aware that she didn’t have on any undergarments and got even wetter at the thought.
She sat on the enormous bed and looked around at the furnishings. Everything looked and smelled new, from the obviously custom-made bed, to the dressers and highboy in the corner. There were three smaller pieces of cabinetry located beside it, but she didn’t snoop. She sniffed at the T-shirt and smiled as she went to the door and opened it. She’d never felt this vulnerable walking through the Dollhouse, dressed in considerably less.
Time to take the bull by the horns.
Two bulls, actually.
Chapter Six
Ben looked up from the light snack he was preparing at the kitchen counter and the knife dropped from his hand with a clatter onto the cutting board.
Quinten said, “You okay?” as he rose from his squat in front of the refrigerator, where he’d been looking for the juice Ben had asked him for.
Quinten stood silently beside him, gaping at the fresh-faced angel who entered his kitchen dressed in sweats and a T-shirt that were much too big for her. Her cheeks were rosy from the hot shower. Camilla was beautiful all the time, but this side of Camilla was one he’d never seen before.
Ben imagined that Camilla took a lot of time with her appearance, judging by how put-together she always looked, and seeing her like this humbled him. With her makeup gone, the slight upward tilt at the outer corners of her eyes and the unusual color of them almost hypnotized him. Judging by the uncertainty in her gaze, Camilla felt at a disadvantage. She bit her soft, rose-colored lower lip, and the vulnerability in her expression brought out all kinds of protective instincts in Ben.
Please, this has to work. I’m a goner.
Camilla stepped into the kitchen barefoot. “Hiya, boys.” Her gray-green eyes flitted from one to the other of them.
Make her comfortable so she won’t ask to leave.
“Hi, sugar. Why don’t you take a seat at the bar. We’re making a little snack. Thirsty?”
Camilla nodded as she climbed up into one of the barstools, and he regretted not coming around to lift her into it. The thought of doing that for this petite, independent beauty made him happy. Quinten poured her a glass of orange juice.
“Would it be possible to go get my overnight bag from my trunk? I wasn’t thinking when I left the car and forgot it.”
Hating to disappoint her but grateful for the opportunity they’d been given by the weather, he pointed at the radio, tuned to the local station, on the kitchen counter. “Sorry, sugar. They’ve closed the river bridge and a bunch of the low water crossings. I doubt we’ll be able to get back into Divine until tomorrow.”
Camilla nodded. “Grace told me that might happen. You could take me down to her house if you wanted to. There’s no low water crossings between us, at least not that I recall.”
“Is that what you want? Really?” Quinten asked, his tone reserved. He and Quinten had hoped for the possibility of a night like this, and neither one of them wanted to fuck it up.