“Front or back?” she asked as he stepped into her soaker tub.
“Can’t go down on you from the back.” He knelt between her legs, pulling them around his hips.
“We’re in a bathtub, pretty sure you’ll drown if you try.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, then traced a fingertip along the anchor tattoo on his arm.
“I do believe you just dared me.” He grinned against her mouth and started kissing his way down the column of her neck. “I used to defuse bombs underwater. The difference was I didn’t want them to go off when I was done.”
Oh.
He continued kissing down her chest, over her nipples, and just as he got to the waterline, he took a deep breath, and, holy shit, he was actually going to go down on her underwater in a bathtub. He gripped her hips, positioned her under his mouth, and…he was doing an amazing job. How was he able to do that with his tongue and no oxygen? Well, she’d never know.
Back pressed against the tub, she ran a hand over her breasts and down to his shoulders, ready to pull him up from the water. He released his grip on her hips only long enough to pull her hands from where she was tugging him up by his shoulders.
Okay, so he wasn’t wanting to be done yet. That was fine. She could keep doing this. Really, if he could hold his breath this long, she’d just appreciate it for the feat it was. Everyone had their skill set, and if this was his, she was a very, very lucky woman.
He licked and sucked and then he released her hips to get his hand in on the action. Breathing hard, she wrapped her ankles around his back, careful not to press down. But he was Jase, and he did what he wanted when he wanted. If he wanted to come up for air, there was nothing she would be able to do to prevent that.
At the moment, he apparently didn’t require oxygen because he was doing things with his mouth and tongue that she’d only read about in books.
He pulled away from her, emerged from the water, grinned, took a deep breath, and without a word, he disappeared under the water again.
This was such a better way to unwind than watchingJeopardy. All those months she’d decided to go off men, apparently, she’d just not picked the right one.
The coil inside her began to tense, and she relaxed against his mouth, ready to let him take her over the edge. And he was really giving it his all as he kissed and licked and, really, how did he do that thing with his finger? He pressed her sweet spot with his thumb—at exactly the right place. She moaned as the orgasm took over, her head falling against the side of the bathtub.
Best. Promposal. Ever.
She was still coming when he finally came up for air.
He pressed a kiss against her mouth.
She toyed with the close-cropped hair at the base of his neck. “The last time a guy asked me to prom, all I got was a dozen roses.” And a night alone when prom came.
Jase was kissing her neck—the sensitive skin right under her ear. She pressed her palms against his hips, moving them to his…yup, he was hard as a rock. Reaching around him, she snagged a bottle of bath oil and poured it into her palm.
He watched her, his eyes heavy-lidded while she got to her knees, her hand between them gripping his dick, rubbing up and down the length of him. So maybe she could deal with one more dick that day. If she could hold her breath longer than twenty seconds, then, yeah, maybe she would’ve tried the underwater thing. As it was, they’d have to go with her hand.
He gripped her hair, tipping her face up to him, leaning down to kiss her while she continued working his shaft. He urged her on with his tongue. She moved her hand faster, splashing against the water until he finished—both of them breathing hard, his mouth still pressed to hers.
He closed his eyes. She released him. He shifted behind her, settling her on his lap in the water. Using her toe, she turned on the hot water knob to heat it up again. The water trickled, and he held her against his chest, and everything felt right.
“Are you going to stick around and watch game shows with me?” she asked.
He scooped water up and over her chest, trailing his fingertips along her skin. “I don’t do TV.”
She settled more firmly against him, her back to his chest. “I don’t do roses, but that seems to be changing.”
“Really, TV’s not my thing. But you can watch.” He was totally snuggling her in the bathtub.
She relaxed against him, linking her fingers with his.
He cleared his throat. “TV gives me flashbacks.”
She stilled. What the hell had happened to him over there, anyway? He continued toying with her fingers, as though he hadn’t just cracked the shell on taking their relationship deeper. Sharing things like this.
She pulled his hands in hers and squeezed. “We don’t need to watch, then. We can just hang out.”
“I want to watch with you.” His voice had gone husky in a way she hadn’t heard before. “But the way the lights on the TV flash and the way they cut the commercials—I don’t sleep after.”
