Page 25

I sit on the edge of the bed, stretch my shoulders until something pops, and scrub my hand down my face. My body’s buzzing from too many hours behind the wheel and not enough real rest.

I need two things.

Silence, and that hot tub out back.

I change into trunks and head out. The air’s crisp, the kind of cold that makes heat feel earned. The water is scalding and perfect. Muscles I didn’t even know were tight start to unwind.

I lean back, close my eyes, and let the jets do their work. The sound of the water drowns everything else out—wedding chaos, the drive, even Whitley’s voice rattling around my brain like a pinball.

I should feel relaxed. Centered.

But all I can think about is her bare feet on those heated bathroom tiles. The way she looked around the cottage like it was magic. That ridiculous spark in her eyes when she said this place was foreplay wrapped in stone walls.

Jesus. My brain hasn’t shut up, and my cock has been half hard since, and now I can’t look at a stone fireplace without thinking of her in my lap, laughing breathlessly as she’s pressed up against me.

So, yeah. The hot tub is doing its best. But the damage? Already done.

I hear the sliding door open behind me, and I swear my heart stops for a full second.

“Oh! Sorry, I thought you were—” Whitley’s voice cuts off abruptly.

I turn, water sloshing around me, and there she is. Standing on the deck in a tiny, emerald-green bikini that makes her pale skin glow in the moonlight. Her copper hair is piled messily on top of her head, a few stray curls falling around her face. The cold mountain air has already raised goosebumps across her exposed skin.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she says, backing up against the door. “I thought you were in your room.”

My eyes can’t help but track over the soft curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, the full swell of her breasts barely contained by that scrap of fabric. The bikini ties at her neck in a little bow I could undo with one tug.

Fuck.

“It’s fine,” I manage, my voice rougher than I intended.

She hesitates, arms wrapping around herself against the chill. “You sure?”

No. Not even a little.

But I nod anyway, because I’m a goddamn adult.

“Yeah,” I say. “Get in before you freeze.”

She gives me an unsure look like she’s waiting for a punchline. When it doesn’t come, she steps forward, lowering herself into the water with a soft hiss.

The surface ripples, steam curling up around her. That bow at the back of her neck may as well be a detonator. My fingers actually twitch.

This was a bad idea. A colossally bad idea.

I shift in the water, putting some much needed distance between us. I focus on the mountains in the distance. On anything that isn’t the soft sigh she lets out as she settles into the heat beside me.

My brain shorts out as she lifts her arms to adjust her hair, water streaming down her neck and between her breasts. Blood rushes south so fast I feel dizzy with it, cock hardening instantly beneath the churning water. I shift, trying to hide my reaction, but the movement only makes it worse.

She starts talking, words spilling out in that breathless way of hers, but I’m completely lost. All I can focus on is how her nipples have hardened against the green fabric and how water beads on her shoulders, making me want to lick them off one by one. How easy it would be to pull her into my lap and feel those soft thighs straddling mine.

I rearrange myself again, arms braced on the ledge behind me, forcing myself to look away. Breathe. Focus.

But then she laughs, and something snaps in my gut.

“Do you always narrate everything that crosses your mind?” I ask.

“What?”