He nods, absorbing that. “This isn’t the dinner I had planned.”
“No, but I think it’s the one we needed.”
“Yeah… maybe it was.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to it. “But on to better things. There’s a hot tub waiting for us.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lot
It hits different.
We skinny-dip beneath a sky full of stars. Clear, black, endless. The air’s crisp and cold, but the steam of the hot tub pulls us into its heat, soothing the ache from everything Dice shared.
Facing each other across the bubbling expanse, his arms are draped over the edge, head tilted back. Mine are curled around my knees, half-floating.
“This feels amazing,” I murmur, letting the warmth soak into my bones.
He hums in agreement, but there’s something different in his gaze. Something I can’t quite read.
“You doing okay?” I ask, even though I already know the answer’s layered and complicated.
“Yeah.” He grabs my ankle and pulls me across the tub towardhim. His hands glide up my calves, over my thighs and hips. “Now I’m even better.”
I float into his lap, legs wrapping around his waist, arms over his shoulders. His hands settle at my back, fingers splayed wide, holding me like I might drift away.
But I’m not going anywhere. I anchor myself to him. Our breaths mingle in the steam. Although sexual tension charges between us, he doesn’t make any overtures and neither do I.
His fingers trace my spine. “Has there ever been anyone serious in New York?”
“No,” I say, surprised by the question. He’s never asked me that before. “Just casual stuff.”
“How come?”
“I like my space. My independence.”
“You can’t have thatanda relationship?”
“Trying to marry me off?”
“Hell no. Just curious why you avoid anything serious.”
“I doubt I’d be good at it. The whole sharing and caring thing.”
“I think you’ve got a blind spot for that part of yourself that’s soft, kind, and compassionate. Then you’ve got that sexy strength, that face card, and that body to match. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
But not him? “Thanks, Jones,” I say dryly. “Even if it is the wine talking.”
“You know I’m not drunk.” He catches my chin and looks in my eyes. “I said what I said because it’s true.”
“Well, I could say the same for you. If you were willing to curb your player ways, you’d be an awesome catch. Hot, funny, thoughtful, and caring. Great in bed. Can cook a little now, so that adds another checkmark.”
“You got a checklist?”
“No.” I study him in the moonlight. “I told you, I’m not looking for a man to call my own.”
“Think you ever will?”
“Maybe. One day. But I won’t need a checklist. My instincts will kick in.” They already have, but I’m not about to reveal that. “What about you? Think you’ll ever want to settle down?”
