I make a disgusted face. “Smoking is gross, and homeless people scare me. There was an incident once.” Her foot brushes my calf as she kicks, circling around the tub.
“I don’t even want to know. Okay, my turn. I’ve hooked up in a hospital supply closet. I’ve worn lingerie under my scrubs to boost my self-confidence. And—”
“Wait a minute now . . . how often are we talking here? Like once a month? Couple times a week?”
She smirks with a twinkle in her eye, not answering me.
“Do not tell me every day,” I groan.
She laughs.
Evil woman.
“And I’ve never kissed anyone in a hot tub before.”
I eye her suspiciously. I don’t want to be wrong again, but I find the hot tub kiss oddly specific. She takes her job seriously and is a professional, so I highly doubt she’s ever hooked up in a supply closet. But who wouldn’t kiss this woman in a hot tubgiven the chance? The lingerie isn’t a question—the flush on her cheeks when I dug into that one gave her away.
My knee brushes her thigh as we slowly move closer to each other, like magnets. “You are far too beautiful to take to a supply closet.”
She nods once—I’ve won.
“I do have one question, though.”
“What’s that?” She sets her wine down, pausing our dance.
“Do you want to be kissed in a hot tub?”
Her eyes dance in the dim light. “I wouldn’t say no if the opportunity presented itself.”
I can’t help myself, and I move in close and give her a quick peck on the lips. So quick that it was more of a brush than a peck. She didn’t even have time to prepare. “Wish granted. You’re welcome. You have now been kissed in a hot tub.”
She laughs and swims closer, her knees now between my legs. “I would hardly call that a kiss. I thought you were supposed to be some kind of pro or something.”
Jessie has been flirting with me for weeks now, but this is at another level. I’m not sure if she’s serious or not. Until our little game of strip gin, she’d made it pretty damn clear over the last year she wants nothing to do with me in that way. But the look she’s giving me now screams the opposite, and unlike strip gin, she’s had less than a glass of wine.
Fuck it.
I slide one hand across her ribs, wrapping it around her back and pulling her toward me. “This is a bad idea,” I whisper.
“Probably,” she agrees, a little breathless. But she doesn’t pull away. Her rose and vanilla scent surrounds me.
I run my other hand up her neck and tangle my fingers in her loosely-bound strands. I pull her in slowly, tilting her head to give me better access before our lips meet.
The kiss starts out slow and tender. Her lips are soft and I can’t stop myself from asking for more, deepening the kiss. When I run my tongue along her lower lip, she arches her back, leaning into me while opening her mouth, giving me what I asked for.
More.
When her hand drifts up my chest and into my hair, I can’t stop the moan that rumbles low in my throat. That seems to only encourage her. The kiss becomes more heated, passionate, and demanding.
She nips at my lip before brushing her tongue along mine. I tighten my grip on her hair, drawing a whimper of pleasure from her, causing my dick to twitch. We kiss like it’s the first time and the last.
I haven’t even realized my hand drifted from her back to her thigh when she wraps her legs around my hips. My hand immediately tightens, pulling her closer, her center pressed against my growing erection.
I lose control. I push my tongue into her mouth and playfully brush it around hers. She moans, rocking her hips into me, causing me to react on instinct, pushing up into her.
She gasps, ripping her mouth away from mine before untangling her limbs and backing away from me. Her wide, panicked eyes meet mine—face flushed, chest heaving—before she darts out of the hot tub.
Fuck.
