Ruby fed me another strawberry, her fingers lingering on my lips. When chocolate smeared on her bottom lip, I couldn't help myself anymore.
I leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted.
She didn't.
She closed the distance, pressing her mouth to mine, tasting like chocolate and wine and something uniquely her. When I pulled her onto my lap, she came willingly, straddling me with a flexibility that made me groan.
"I've been wondering what this would feel like," she murmured against my mouth.
"And?"
"Better than I imagined."
We kissed like that for a while, building heat slowly, hands exploring over clothes. When she pulled back, breathless, her eyes were dark.
"That hot tub out there," she said, glancing toward the back windows with a small smile playing at her lips. "Still steaming. And you mentioned champagne?"
"I did."
"Show me."
We bundled into plush robes from my bathroom, grabbed a bottle of champagne and two glasses, and headed outside through the back door. The cold hit hard—shocking after the warmth inside. Snow was still falling, melting on our shoulders as we crossed the deck.
Ruby dropped her robe, completely unselfconscious, and descended into the hot tub. I stood there for a second, just taking in the sight of her—all curves and pale skin, freckles dusting her shoulders, absolutely stunning.
I shed my own robe and joined her. The heat enveloped us both. She'd settled across from me initially, but after I poured champagne and we'd each taken a sip, she was already moving—crossing the distance, settling onto my lap with her legs around my waist.
"To unexpected weekends," I said, raising my glass.
"To taking chances," she countered.
We drank, and then she was kissing me again, more urgently this time. The contrast of hot water and cold air, the steam rising around us, snowflakes melting in her hair—it was dizzying.
My hands found her waist, her hips, explored the curve of her body. She made small sounds against my mouth that drove me crazy.
"Ruby," I murmured against her throat.
I lifted her slightly, positioning her on the edge of the hot tub. She gasped at the cold air hitting her overheated skin.
"What are you—"
I moved between her legs, my shoulders pushing her thighs apart. Put my mouth on her.
Her hands fisted in my hair immediately, a gasp escaping her lips. "Oh god."
I took my time. Tasted her, explored her, learned what made her gasp and what made her moan. The contrast of her heat and the cold air, the way snowflakes melted on her thighs while steam rose around us.
"Gil," she breathed, her hips rocking against my mouth. "That's— oh god—"
I used my tongue, my lips, added fingers when I felt her getting close. She was trembling, making sounds that I wanted to memorize. When I found the right rhythm, the right pressure, she came apart with a cry that echoed across the snow-covered pines.
I held her through it, feeling her pulse, her thighs shaking. When the tremors subsided, I kissed my way back up her body and pulled her back into the water with me.
She was breathing hard, eyes glazed, looking stunned.
"That was—" she started.
I kissed her, and she moaned, tasting herself on my lips. Her hand slid down my chest, my abdomen, reaching for me under the water.
