Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Are we coming to hang out with her?”
“Oh, no. She’s tucked away in her bed by now, movie on loud and ice cream bowl propped up on that baby belly.”
“That is oddly specific.” I laugh. “But it does sound about right.”
“She may or may not have texted me and said as much,” he admits with a grin, and then the back deck of her and Nate’s beach house comes into view, only there’s been an added addition that wasn’t there the last time I came to my studio and slept over.
My eyes slide to Chase’s, and a sudden thrum builds behind my ribs, a jittering, restless energy that has me squealing. I pull my hand from his, my feet softly padding up the steps as I run to the already-open, already-steaming, deck-top hot tub. The blanket falls from my shoulders, and I dip my fingers in, my smile yanking over my shoulder.
A soft curve forms on his lips and he bends down, picking up the blanket and hanging it over the small towel rack.
“We’re getting in, right?”
“I figured we’d roll our pants up and—” He cuts off, my pajama shirt already pulled over head and dropped to the ground. “Dip our feet in it,” he finishes absentmindedly, his eyes roaming over my chest. “Or not.”
I pull my bottoms off next and climb the mini-steps against the side, sliding right in.
I gasp at first, sucking air in and stretching my ribs as the heated water shocks my body a little. I smile his way, lowering until I’m up to my neck, a long-satisfied sigh instantly spilling from my lips.
Chase chuckles, and in one quick movement, his top is gone, giving me the glorious view of his golden chest. He’s all bronzed skin, cut in all the right places, demanding my gaze without mercy.
My eyes lock on the trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his sweats, and my breath trips a little, heat curling under my skin.
I pretend not to notice, or at least I try, but there’s no ignoring the way my pulse flutters wildly in my throat.
His hands go to the waistband next, and my stomach tightens. He sheds his pajama pants, leaving him in just black boxer briefs that cling to his hips in a way that feels wildly unfair.
He catches me staring, and I couldn’t look away if I tried. Slowly, deliberately, he steps up onto the small ledge of the side of the hot tub. He doesn’t rush in, doesn’t look away. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I sink a little deeper into the water, as if it might cool me down. When he climbs in, the water ripples outward and smooth waves break against my shoulders. He settles across from me, those long, strong arms of his stretched along the rim behind him like he owns the place.
And maybe he does.
His gaze skates over me, lazy but heavy, and I feel it like a caress. It’s dark enough to feel private but just bright enough for me to see every hungry flicker in his eyes.
“You always gonna surprise me like that, Angel?” His voice is rough, a low scrape that tickles along my spine.
“I hope so,” I manage.
I’m not sure if it’s my answer or the breathy tone in which it left me, but the corners of his mouth pick up into the smallest cocky grin that does terrible, wonderful things to my insides. His gaze drops briefly, and when it rises again, there’s something hotter behind it, something consuming and heady, like he’s already tasting what’s about to happen between us and he can’t get enough.
The water between us ripples as he moves, slow and sure, closing the space just a little more.
My pulse stutters, then races ahead like it’s sprinting to the finish line and we haven’t even gotten started. He shifts again, and this time his foot slides up the inside of my calf under the water, slow and deliberate, until his toes hook behind my knee and draw my legs open just slightly.
“If you’re gonna keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs, voice low and thick, “I might have to do something about it.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
His eyes burn into mine. “Careful, Angel,” he rasps, rough and edged with something deeper. “You’re gonna start something I’m not letting you finish.”
He’s not bluffing—the man has shown me his impeccable restraint several times—but then again neither am I. He knows it; we both do.
The proof is in his next movement, when his hand moves from the rim and slides beneath the surface, finding my ankle. His palm is hot and wide, somehow burning more than the bubbling water around us as it drags up my skin, drawing him closer as his fingers dig slightly into the sensitive flesh just above my knee.