Page 78 of The Flirting Game


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When he sets down his glass, he nods to mine. “You’ve barely touched yours, Skylar.”

Because I’m too distracted by the way this man moves. “Your fault.”

A tilt of his head. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’ve been staring at me the whole time.”

His lips twitch, but he still doesn’t move any closer. “How was I staring at you?”

This man.He’s making me work for it, the sexy jerk. But two can play this game. I sit up straighter, so my breasts rise above the water.

His breath hitches. A rumble that drifts across the steamy air.

Well, I guess I’m doing this foreplay thing too.

I rest my elbows on the edge of the hot tub, knowing the move draws even more attention to my tits. With a sensual sigh, I raise a hand from the bubbles and slide it through some strands of hair, making them wet.

I stretch my neck to the side, exposing more of my collarbone—the place he’s obsessed with. Finally, I meet his eyes again and answer his question. “You were staring like you wanted to eat me up.”

His blue eyes turn to flames, a flare against the night. His shoulders bunch. He’s holding back, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because he likes to play games with me. Reaching for my glass, he commands, “Take a sip, Skylar.”

I’m curious where he’s going, so I take the flute, but he wraps his hand around mine. “And you should know Iplan to kiss it off you.” I shudder as he pauses, then adds even more seductively, “Everywhere.”

Sign me up.

I lift the flute with excited fingers, holding it tightly so it doesn’t slip out of my eager hands. I take a drink, my mind racing with wonderfully lurid images of this man devouring me.

He moves so quickly, I can barely catalogue how it happens. The images are no longer pictures. They’re reality.

I place the glass on the edge of the hot tub. His lips keep crashing down on mine, and I’m moaning into his mouth. Water sloshes around us, bubbles licking my shoulders as Ford claims my mouth in a searing kiss.

Curling around my head, his fingers scrape through my hair as he tugs me close, his lips exploring mine. My lips part for his, inviting more of these deep, hungry kisses. He sucks on the tip of my tongue, nips on the corner of my lips, tilts my head back. Like he needs more of everything—more ofme. I’m dissolving into this kiss. The steam from the hot tub mingles with the heat between us and I’m not sure what’s warmer—the water or the need coursing through my body. My pulse is shooting to the sky, beating between my legs.

He slows the kiss, skates his mouth along my neck till I’m boneless and mindless with want. Then his lips travel to my ear, where he whispers, “You taste better than I imagined. But I really need to be sure.”

My mind pops with questions likeWhat do you mean?

But the answer comes in his hands roaming down my body, along my arms to my waist. Lighting me up with every touch till they settle on my hips.

With a cocky grin, he lifts me up and sets me on theedge of the hot tub, my calves and feet still in the water, the rest of me exposed.

Awareness hits me right as he settles between my legs on the bench, spreading them apart. Sliding his hands up my slick thighs, he parts my legs wider. The look in his eyes is mischievous and molten. And I think…I’ve met my match.

But thoughts break apart as Ford brushes his mouth along my inner thigh, roaming those lush, hungry lips higher and higher still. It’s in the sixties, so it’s not cold, but it’s not summery at night either. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I’m not sure if it’s from the evening air or the sensations whipping through my body. But when he reaches the apex of my thighs, heat blazes through me. He kisses the wet panel of my bikini and I gasp.

Simon lifts his snout.

“I’m fine, honey,” I reassure him.

Ford laughs against my center. “You call your dog honey.”

“Of course I do,” I say, then curl a hand around Ford’s head, shooting him a fierce stare. “Stop talking and get back to work.”

“If you insist,” he murmurs, giving me another kiss right where I want him.

My bathing suit is slick from the hot tub. But that hardly matters. He yanks the material to the side, and presses a slow, sensual kiss to my clit.

I’m panting, grabbing his head, rocking against him in no time.