Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 26056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
It doesn’t help that I’m naked beneath the surface.
Neither of us said we’d go in without suits. But when I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and caught him already stripping down outside, boots and flannel dropped in a trail on the porch, the only question I asked was where the bubbles were.
Now I regret everything.
Because I can’t stop imagining how big he is.
Or what he’d do if I got a little closer.
“You always this quiet when you’re thinking dirty thoughts?” he asks, low.
I arch a brow. “You wish I was thinking about you.”
“Oh, I don’t need to wish.” He dips a hand into the water, lets it drift lazily toward me. “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve been looking at my chest since I got in.”
“Please,” I snort. “I’ve been staring at the snow. Trying to enjoy the peaceful mountain solitude.”
“You been staring at the snow, huh?” His foot brushes mine under the water.
My breath catches.
That’s new.
“You sure you’re not staring at something else?” he says. “Something… bigger?”
I laugh—nervous, breathy, definitely too warm now. “You’re ridiculous.”
He smiles. Slow and sinful.
I shift away, only to find the edge of the tub behind me. Nowhere to run. “Let me guess,” I say. “This is where you tell me I’ve got nowhere to hide?”
“No.” He leans forward. Water laps between us. “This is where I tell you, you don’t want to.”
I don’t.
God help me, I don’t.
His hand reaches the edge of my knee underwater. Doesn’t move higher. Doesn’t have to.
I feel it everywhere.
“You came up here with your red lipstick and those little boots, swinging your sass like a weapon,” he murmurs. “You thought you’d walk in, redecorate my life, and leave without me noticing.”
“I offered to split the money.”
“Fuck the money.”
He slides closer.
I’m breathing hard now. Heart beating like a Christmas drum solo.
“What do you want then?” I whisper.
His hand glides up my thigh.
“You.”
A pause.
“I want you. Bent over my workbench. In my bed. On my lap. Right here. Wherever you’ll let me have you.”
He moves between my knees, hovering just shy of contact.
“But not until you beg,” he adds, voice low, rough. “Because I want to hear you say it. I want to feel it when you break for me.”
My head drops back.
The stars swirl above. Snowflakes land on my lips.
He kisses one away.
Then he stops.
Dead still.
Because I’m not moving. I’m trembling.
“Noel,” he says, voice softer now. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Too okay.”
He watches me for a beat longer. Then drifts back an inch, giving me space I didn’t ask for—but maybe needed.
His voice is lower, steadier now. “I’ll wait.”
“Why?” I ask.
“You’re not ready.”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”
“No,” he says. “Just not rushing something that feels this good. Not gonna fuck it up by going too fast.”
I blink. “You think this is good?”
He chuckles. “You don’t?”
I laugh, finally exhaling. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe.”
He drags a wet hand down his beard. “You’re trouble, Noel Hart.”
“You love it.”
“Goddamn right I do.”
We sit there for a minute. Steam curling around us. Bodies close. Breath still uneven. But grounded now. No rush. Just knowing.
“You ever gonna let me decorate that workbench?” I tease.
“Only if you do it naked.”
I roll my eyes. “Pervert.”
“You started it.”
I smile.
And then I do something insane.
I reach out and slide a hand along his chest. Slowly. Up to his shoulder. Let my fingers linger on his neck.
“Next time,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens.
“There will be a next time?” he says.
“Oh, definitely.”
“Tease.” He leans in. Kisses the corner of my mouth. Just once and then his eyes drag down my body—my legs, the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts beneath the steamy water—and I catch him shifting, a hiss escaping as he adjusts himself.
He’s tense, on the edge. I see his cock twitch before he can restrain himself. In an instant, his hands close on my hips, his skin presses to mine—warm, insistent.
When his fingers slide down my thighs, I step out of them, heart racing. A whisper already slips past my lips: “Nash…”
He lifts me out of the water and plants my ass on the ledge, eyes gleaming. “I can make you shake and quiver more than any other man ever could,” he growls. His mouth finds me—wet, hungry. My hips jerk forward, craving every stroke of his tongue on my clit as he cups my ass and buries his face in my scent.
“Tasting you is like touching heaven, Noel, like a fucking drug on my tongue. I’m addicted to you,” he rasps, sucking my bud gently before flicking back to circle my slit. I moan, my thighs tightening around his head.
He alternates between circling my clit and plunging his tongue deep into my wetness, every sweep sending jolts of pleasure through me. I clutch his hair, pressing his face harder, craving more. My body convulses; I feel the first wave of my orgasm crash over his mouth. I cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders as my legs tremble.