He shoves his pants down enough for the night to cool his heated skin, and I watch his jaw go tight, then ease when I drag my nails lightly over his hip.
“Inside,” he says, glancing at the tub. His hand settles at my ribs. “Now.” It comes out fast.
He peels the shirt from my shoulders. I let it slide down my arms, gather the fabric, and drape it over the back of a chair. He watches me do it, eyes dark, hungry, but not rushing.
The cool air hardens my nipples, and his eyes go dark as they skim down my body.
I imagine those dark eyes looking up at me while his mouth destroys me. I fight the urge to squirm as the pressure between my legs intensifies. My thighs are going to be soaked if he watches me like that any longer.
He doesn’t say anything. He just holds out a hand and waits.
Swallowing, suddenly nervous, I take it and step to him.
I’ve been skinny-dipping before. At a lake with friends. In a pool at night. But this is different. There’s an intimacy here that doesn’t have anything to do with nudity or the fact that we’re about to have sex.
It’s the way he looks at me.
Like I’m an answered prayer.
One kiss, slow and deep, and he helps me up the steps and into the water. I gasp as the hot water swirls up my legs, over my hips, kissing every inch of my cold skin. The jets bubble against my back. It feels decadent.
My body sings, every nerve alight with the promise of pleasure, the electric heat of this man whose world is so far from mine, whose touch is so perfectly right.
Gio follows, water sluicing over hard muscle as he lowers himself into the tub opposite me. I watch a bead of water trace a path down his chest. He settles, and our legs find each other in the dark water. His calf brushes my ankle. We stay like that for a minute, the hot water loosening muscles I didn’t even know were tight.
He reaches across the small space, palm up. An invitation.
I put my hand in his.
He pulls gently. I glide over the water toward him, letting him direct me. I end up facing him, straddling his lap, my knees on the bench on either side of his powerful thighs. My chest brushes his, and the friction sends a jolt through me. My hands find his shoulders, bracing.
His hands are on my waist, holding me just above him. I feel the hard press of his cock through the water. I can’t stop looking at his mouth, wanting it again.
He tips his chin up. His eyes are serious. Soft.
I lean in.
His hands slide to my ass, squeezing. A moan escapes me before I can bite it back. He grins—smug and devastating—and thrusts his hips up, grinding against my aching clit. The water moves around us, a warm, liquid caress that only adds to the friction.
I brace one hand on the rim of the tub behind him, the other curling into his hair. The jets push against my back. The night is quiet except for the hum of the water and the sound of our breathing.
He looks up at me. The moonlight catches the line of his jaw, the dark fringe of his lashes. He looks up at me like this is the only place he’s ever wanted to be.
He slides one hand up my spine, the other up my stomach, between my breasts, until he’s cupping my jaw. His thumb strokes over my pulse.
“Tell me what you want, mia.”
The question is a physical thing.
I press closer. I can feel my heart beating against my ribs, a frantic, hopeful thing. I can feel him, hot and hard, sliding between my lips. I’m so close to the edge of the tub that the water laps at my breasts. He’s holding me there, poised, waiting.
Everything inside me is tightening, coiling, a spring wound so tight it’s about to snap.
“You,” I say, the word a raw, honest thing. “I just want you.”
His control snaps. He hauls me flush against him, kissing me like he’s been waiting for this for a thousand years. The kiss is deep, hungry, a claiming. I kiss him back just as hard, taking as much as I’m giving. My fingers tighten in his hair, pulling justenough to make him groan into my mouth. His other arm bands around my waist, lifting me just enough.
He lines himself up at my entrance, and I start to sink down.
