Page 47 of Making Over Maris

“How ironic.”

Jack winked. “Yeah, but it’s a delicious irony.”

She laughed. God, he loved it when she laughed.

He led the way to the deck, which curved around one side of the house, and dropped Ding down on the flagstone path that led to the yard below. The cat proceeded to clean himself furiously.

“Oh. My. God,” Sara gasped.

“I know.” Jack gazed at the twinkling lights spread out before them. “I told you it’s a great view.” Especially at night. Especially with Sara here.

But her attention was trained on something else.

“Holy crap, Jack. You have a hot tub.” She rounded on him. “Why did you never tell me you had a hot tub?”

He shrugged. “Not something that comes up in conversation. Do you want to take one?”

“I don’t have a suit.” She pouted.

“You have a birthday suit.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought them through. But then—hot damn—she nodded.

“Okay.”

Heat raced through his body, straight to his cock. All of a sudden, nude hot-tubbing didn’t seem like a very good idea at all. He would probably lose all control and come the first time her foot brushed his in the water. “Or you could wear a t-shirt.”

She studied him through her lashes. A hint of disappointment flashed across her features. Or maybe it was cynicism. Or determination. Tough to tell.

“I’m just…I don’t…I can’t…” He couldn’t seem to explain himself. Being naked with her in the hot tub was one of his favorite late-night finger-date fantasies. But now the possibility was staring him in the face and it kind of scared him to death.

Even though this was their third date.

Maybe because it was their third date.

She set her hand on his arm. It was warm. He loved the way she stroked him with her thumb. “It’s all right, Jack. A t-shirt is fine.”

Okay.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given her a white t-shirt.

This he thought as he hunkered down in the steaming water in his terminally tented swim trunks and fixated on Sara sitting across from him in wet—see-through—cotton. God. She was magnificent.

And it was more alluring, seeing the coral discs of her nipples, the outline of her breasts through the sodden fabric—wondering—than having her bare-ass naked before him.

He set his teeth and glanced away, pretending to appreciate the view. It was a glorious view. He knew it was because he’d studied it many nights when he’d been in the hot tub alone.

Right now nothing was registering. Nothing but this woman.

And the pressure in his cock. Hell.

“Do you know what I was doing when you showed up this afternoon?”

Jack started. “Y-you told me already. You were thinking about me.”

“Yeah. What else was I doing?” She shifted closer.

He swallowed. “What else?” Damn. He hated it when his voice squeaked like a dude in puberty.

“Yes, Jack. What was I doing while I was thinking about you?”