I clear my throat, desperate to cool the heat pulsing beneath my skin. “Yeah. Just spaced out there for a second.”
Her body is a goddamn temptation, and I can’t keep my horny mind from picturing her riding my face. Especially after everything she said last night. Christ, I could make her feel so good.
I could be the first man to make Quinn Dawson come.
And that thought has me hard as stone and grateful that she won’t see anything through the bubbling hot tub once I climb in.
I’m about to enter dangerous waters. There’s nothing wrong with sitting in a hot tub with Quinn, but with all the dirty fantasies floating in my head right now... Wes would butcher me if he knew I was thinking of his little sister like this.
I’ll keep to my side of the hot tub, enjoy the view, and resist the temptation to touch her again—despite the fact it’s been bubbling under the surface ever since she got here, and all those fleeting touches I’ve allowed myself have done nothing but make me want more.
I hand her a beer and glide through the water to the opposite side. I stretch my arms along the rim of the hot tub, giving myself something to hold on to—because if I don’t, I might just reach across the damn thing and drag her into my lap.
Her lips press against the can as she takes a sip, and I force the thought of those lips wrapped around me out of my mind as she sinks farther into the water, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure as the jets hit her sore muscles.
She cracks open one eye and peers at me with a teasing smirk. “Is there a reason you’re sitting way over there?”
Because being near you in that scrap of fabric you call a swimsuit is asking for trouble.
“The view’s better over here.” I gesture toward the sun setting behind her against the backdrop of rolling hills decorated in prairie grass.
She tilts her head to the side and drifts smoothly toward me, close enough that I can feel the heat of her thigh pressed right against mine as she settles beside me. It pours gasoline onto the fire already burning through me.
Damn it.
I need to get her talking or I might lose every last bit of my self-control. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“You gonna tell me what’s on that dirty little bucket list of yours?”
Idiot.
That is not gonna help me stop thinking about her naked, but I’ve been dying to know what’s on it ever since she mentioned it.
She shrugs, a sultry smile tugging at her lips. “Depends. You gonna help me check some things off it?”
Jesus, I’m trying to behave here.
“What if you have some real freaky shit on there?” I tease. “Stuff I might need to prepare for mentally—a costume to buy or props.”
That makes her laugh, and the sound goes straight to my dick.
“The only costume you’ll need is the cowboy hat.”
I arch a brow, trying not to look as smug as I feel. “That’s not a costume, honey. That’s a uniform.”
She leans in just a little, eyes glittering with mischief. “I do love a man in uniform.”
“Is that so?”
She hums appreciatively.
My eyes trail over her face—a little flushed from the hot water. My gaze drops to the flimsy pink straps of her bikini, tracing the line over the curve of her breast and lingering for a moment on the slight swell of her cleavage before I force myself to look away.
“You been having inappropriate thoughts about me when I wear it?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just looks away, her smile flickering like she’s debating whether to admit it. Her cheeks bloom with color, and then—she nods.
Goddamn.
