But she is oblivious to my pain. She reaches behind her body and unclips the bra, then tosses it aside while I practically swallow my tongue when her generous breasts are freed from their bondage.
Or maybe she’s not actually oblivious, because then she turns around, showing me the back view of her almost naked body. With a saucy glimpse over her shoulder, she flicks her panties to the floor and then steps right over to the stairs leading into the pool.
Leaving me standing there in nothing but unzipped trousers, from which my aching cock is desperately trying to escape.
Right.
I shed my clothes in the next few seconds. My erection bobs against my stomach as I slip into the pool to meet her.
There’s no better sight than Rebecca in the pool, the water churning around her bare breasts. She’s sitting on the bench, her head tipped back against the edge. Her eyes are closed. “I’m a fan of this setup. Do you use this tub very often?”
“Yes and no. I use it as a lap pool twice a week. Always alone. So this is new.” I splash her chest, because my inner fifteen-year-old can’t resist. She opens up her eyes and smiles. “But I figure—what’s the point of having this crazy house if you never skinny-dip in the hot tub with your favorite girl?”
Her expression softens. “This is fun. But I’m not used to it yet.”
She doesn’t mean the water. “I know. You still have your doubts.”
“Not about you, though,” she says, putting a wet hand on my cheek. “It’s just complicated.”
I nod so she’ll think I understand. And I do—mostly. Although my grasp of the complications improves when we have our clothes on, and I remember that other people actually exist. Right now I’m naked while water caresses my bare skin, and she’s mere inches away.
It’s surprising I can form words at all.
“This is really nice on the sore muscles,” she says, rolling her neck.
“What exactly is sore? I’ll massage it. Please say it’s your glutes.”
She giggles. “Close. Hamstrings.”
“As if I needed a reason to touch your thighs.” Under water, I put a hand on her quadriceps and squeeze gently.
“Oy,” she gasps. “Okay, that’s sore too.”
“Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s a good kind of sore. I was so happy when Dr. Armitage said that lying around in dark rooms wasn’t going to help me get better. It’s good to move around, because I feel like I’m accomplishing something.”
I make some inarticulate noise of agreement, but all my focus is on Rebecca’s thigh under my hand. “Swing a leg over here.”
After only a second’s hesitation, she does.
I take that smooth leg into my hands and gently work over the muscles.
She groans, and my cock is now harder than the pipes that fill this pool with water. “That feels so good.”
I’m going to make her say that again later, and she won’t be referring to her leg muscles.
20
Rebecca
Nate is giving me a world-class rubdown. We are both trying really hard not to just leap on each other. Nate is doing his best to be patient, because he thinks I’m skittish. And I am—about dating him.
But not, it seems, about jumping him. Every one of my senses is dialed up to eleven, and every time his long fingers make another pass over my bare skin, I just want to moan.
I glance around this incredible room we’re in. Those big windows must let in a lot of light during the daytime. Nate has what other New Yorkers only dream about—a huge space in a great location. It’s ridiculous.
“Hey, nice turtle,” I say just so I won’t accidentally beg him to fuck me.
“Hmm?” he says, looking as distracted as I feel.
“You have an inflatable turtle, Nate. It’s smiling at me.” I point toward the toy on the other edge of the pool.
“Ah,” he says, barely giving it a glance. “Gag gift from Alex.”
Just the sound of her name makes me tense, and I’m not even sure why. “She seemed pissed off at you that night at the party,” I hear myself say.
“She was, right?” He stops rubbing my leg and gives it a simple squeeze. “That was sort of weird. I think she’s ducking me. Probably has something to do with a deal I have going on at work.”
“Hmm.” I’d bet a million dollars that’s not it. “Can I ask you a question? Were you and Alex ever a thing?”
“A thing,” he says slowly. “No. Not really.”
“Not really?” That sounds a lot like a dodge to me.
He shakes his head. “Once we got drunk and fooled around. But never again. We’re better off as friends.”
Once. That shouldn’t bother me. They’ve known each other for…twelve years? Thirteen? But then why was she so pissed off when I turned up in Florida?
Maybe I’m just paranoid. After all, it’s me sitting here naked with Nate. Not her. And I’m wasting the moment thinking about his grumpy college friend.
Smart, Bec.
I shift my body so that my leg slides off Nathan’s knee. And when I straighten my spine, my breasts rise a little ways, exposing my nipples above the waterline. Nate’s gaze latches onto my chest and doesn’t let go.
Improving his view suddenly seems like a no-brainer.
Turning toward him, I press myself up onto my knees on the bench. He makes a soft grunt of surprise as my dripping wet torso emerges from the water. Maybe I’ll be embarrassed about this later, but I actually arch my back a little to enhance the effect.
Then I climb into his lap, straddling him. My overly sensitive breasts meet his wet chest.
With a groan he pulls me closer, and then we’re kissing. His tongue is hot and bossy, and our kisses skip right past all the preliminary rounds and go straight to the playoffs. He gets a firm grip on my bottom and gives it a dirty squeeze.
Slick, wet skin slides across skin. His hard cock is trapped between my legs. And we’re kissing like movie stars.
“You ruin me,” he murmurs, holding my chin in his hand to control the kiss.
I don’t know what that means, but I like the sound of it. I grind against him. I am shameless, and the agonized sounds he makes are my reward.
“Fuck, Bec,” he pants eventually. “Sit up here.”
“What?”
He pats the pool’s edge. “No, wait.” He leans out of the water to grab the turtle. Then he angles me into its bright green embrace, so he’s standing between my legs, a hand under each thigh. And he kisses his way down my body.
“Oh,” I whisper when his intention becomes clear. And when my hips float to the water’s surface, his mouth is there, kissing the juncture of my body and thigh. His lips shift, finding the potent center of me. “Ungh,” I gasp as my head falls back onto the turtle.
“Rebecca, are you all right?” This question is brought to us by Bingley, whose chipper voice booms through the speakers.
Nate actually chuckles, and I feel the vibration against my clit.
Jesus lord. His hot tongue makes a pass across my most sensitive flesh and I grip the pool toy with both hands. “Oh,” I say, and the word echoes off the tile walls.
Nate makes a low noise of agreement as he tongues me again. I pull my legs together, trapping his mouth there. I can’t relax because good lord it feels so good and it’s been forever since anyone spoiled me like this.
His brown eyes lift to hold my gaze, and then he deliberately makes a slow, heavy pass with his tongue.
I make another inarticulate noise followed by some begging. “Don’t stop,” I blab.
“Stop?” Bingley says. “I didn’t get that, Rebecca.”
“SILENCE, Bingley,” Nate hollers.
I clap my hand over my mouth because it’s funny and for a second there I feel like laughing. But then the urge fades because there are other sensations commanding my attention. Nate has many gifts and skills, but I had no idea his tongue was so fucking useful. He coaxes and teases me until I ache
with impatience.
I bite down on my own lip. “Shouldn’t we…” I look around wildly, wondering what surface we can christen. The chaise lounge, maybe. “Let’s get out of the pool,” I urge.
“We will,” he says maddeningly. Then he drops his head again and slides his lips over me until I’m shaking. “Come on my tongue,” he orders. “And then I’ll take you upstairs and make you come again on my cock.”
That all sounds so nice that I do exactly as he suggests. Immediately.
* * *
I wake up in the predawn light in Nate’s bed. I’m lying on my side, my leg hooked over his. He’s on his stomach, his face turned away from me. And I can’t resist—I push up on an elbow and study him.
He’s sleeping soundly, his face relaxed. Long, dark eyelashes sweep toward those handsome cheekbones. It’s a gorgeous face. And he looks so youthful right now. I’m struck by how much he looks like the Nate I met seven years ago, when he was still only a boy genius and not a billionaire. A weird sensation comes over me, like I’m glimpsing a lost moment in our lives, when everything was less complicated.
Which is silly. But I miss the younger us, when Nate could still stop in the middle of his day for a game of Ping-Pong.
I could stare at him all day, but reluctantly I roll away from him. The mansion is so quiet that my motion stirs him, too. “Where are you going?” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
The palindrome comes to me out of nowhere. “As I pee, sir, I see Pisa.”
He smiles into his pillow.
In the world’s largest master bath, I do my business and then brush my teeth, just in case anybody wants to kiss me.
And I try not to be too astonished that I just had a sleepover with Nate.
Wowzers.
My little makeup bag is sitting on the wooden table to the left of the sink, so I find my birth control pills and swallow one. I’m a practical girl to the core.
Or am I? Finger-combing my hair into place in the bathroom mirror, I’m flooded with some very visual memories of last night. Nate pushing me down on the bed, just like in my fantasy. He opens the towel I’m wearing, bracing himself above me in bed. The muscles of his arms and chest straining as he thrusts…
Gah. I feel tingly just remembering it. And I can’t imagine that will fade anytime soon. It was a night for the record books.
Not practical. But magical.
I shut off the light to hide my smile as I exit the bathroom. There’s not a chance I’ll get back to sleep now—not with those memories playing on repeat in my mind. But I can lie very quietly while Nate continues to rest his giant brain.
Or not. Because as soon as I slide between the sheets, he rolls toward me, his body fitting against my back. “Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi yourself.”
I relax against his big warm body. Lately, there hasn’t been much affection in my life. When I tease Georgia, I always tell her I’m jealous of all the hot lovin’ she’s getting from Leo since they got back together.
But I never say how jealous I am of this, too—a snuggle in the morning. Nate’s nose in my hair. A long arm fitted over my hip.
I close my eyes and drink in all this wonderfulness. He’s quiet, and I wonder if he’ll doze off again.
“Bec,” he whispers a few minutes later. He sweeps a hand up my sternum, then cups my breast. “This is right out of the PowerPoint presentation, too. Slide seventeen, I wake up and you’re naked in my bed.” His fingers find my nipple, which tightens under his touch. The tingles return in force.
And there’s an eager erection poking me in the back.
“What’s on slide eighteen?” My pussy clenches just thinking about how much I want him to push me down and fill me.
Instead of answering, he kisses the back of my neck. And then his shameless hand coasts down my body, his fingertips dipping between my legs without hesitation. I let out a half breath, half whimper.
“Slide eighteen is that sound you just made.” He strokes me, his cock pushing against my back. “Roll over.”
I do, but his hand is in my hair. Instead of tugging me up to kiss him, he does the opposite. Our gazes lock, and he guides me right down to his erection instead, his biceps flexing as he nudges me where he wants me.
Yes. Without missing a beat, I open my mouth and then take him onto my tongue, where I lap eagerly. It’s my first taste of him. And I love that he sort of shoved me down and asked for it.
How does he know this turns me on? That’s something to wonder about later.
He groans loudly, and the sound resonates all over my body. I can feel it from my nipples to my toes. I clamp my mouth down on him and give a good suck. Then I raise my eyes to see the effect.
Nate is flushed, and heavy lidded, his chest rising and falling as I begin to work him over. His grip is like a vice on my hair. “Fuck,” he says, and then he actually laughs. “Jesus.” As I watch, he forces himself to relax against the pillows. His hand unclenches, and he smooths it over my hair. “You’re so beautiful. When you look up at me like that, I just want to come everywhere.”
That sounds fun to me, too. So I suck harder.
He flexes his hips, fucking my mouth in slow strokes. I can feel him getting closer. I take his balls in my hand…
His grip finds my hair again. “Stop, sweetheart.” He chuckles and then groans. “I don’t want to shoot yet.”
It’s true that I like to be bossed around. But I also like fighting back. So I pop off his dick and sit up. Quickly, I straddle his thighs, take him in hand, and fill myself with him.
His moan is a bellow, and deep breaths saw in and out of his cut chest. I stare down at the wreck I’ve made of Nate, feeling pleased with myself. His chest and neck are flushed and his lips and cheeks are red. He’s gorgeous and he’s as turned on as a man can be.
I’m feeling pretty amazing, too. “Which slide is this?”
He shakes his head against the pillow. “Fuck it, Bec. I thought my fantasies were good, but you blow them all away.” He puts a hot hand on my belly, his long fingers spread wide. “Tell me another palindrome.”
“What?” I push my hips forward, eager to get on with it. He feels so good. I can’t help myself.
“I need a minute to calm down.” His thumb sweeps across my hip in a place that should make me ticklish. But it doesn’t because I’m so turned on. “Not a banana baton,” I whisper.
Nate grins. “That’s my girl.” He rolls his hips to reward me.
I take it as an invitation. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I give a long slide back and then thrust forward again. He feels so, so good. And I am shameless. I pick up the pace, knowing my boobs will bounce with every movement.
And he loves it. Long hands slide all over my skin, stoking the flames. I won’t be able to keep up the porn star routine much longer. I’m seconds away from melting like butter onto his beautiful body and forgetting my own name.
Nate braces his heels on the bed and meets me thrust for thrust. Then he grabs me by the back of the neck and yanks me down for a kiss, his tongue finding mine on a groan.
That’s all she wrote. I’m shivering and moaning and breathless against his mouth.
And he smiles. His eyes light up like I’ve done something amazing. He rolls us both. I flop onto my back as Nate dives into my mouth for a kiss that’s deep and dirty. “Should I get a condom?” he asks between kisses. He wore one last night without asking.
“No need,” I slur happily. “Knock yourself out.”
He groans and then laughs, his hips pumping against mine.
Sex with Nate is smiley. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze.
I think I could be in love with him. This is not an entirely welcome realization.
But now is not the time to panic. I hug Nate everywhere, with my arms and my knees and my body. His moan is long and low. His muscles lock and he shudders twice.
Then he chuckles into my neck. “God, Bec. There aren’t words for how spoiled you make me fe
el.”
I sift my fingers through his soft hair. I feel spoiled right now, too.
He props himself up on an elbow. “The no-condom thing is new.”
“Hmm?”
“Before Florida I never did that before.”
“Really?” I look into his eyes. They’re so bright and happy. “Maybe that’s why you like it so much.”
He shakes his head. “No, that’s why it doesn’t last as long as I’d like it to. But you’re the reason I like it so much.”
Then he kisses me again.
21
Nate
That morning I’m as happy as a guy has ever been. I send Ramesh out for bagels and coffee.
“I’m not meeting him at the door,” Becca grumbles. “I may never look him in the eye again.”
“Suit yourself,” I say, swatting her bare butt as she heads for my shower. “Ramesh is a smart man. He’ll put the food on the entry table and get the hell out.”
“When does Mrs. Gray show up?” she asks over the sound of the water.
“Nine. Why?”
She doesn’t answer, but she gets ready to go before that.
At a quarter past eight, I kiss her goodbye. “When will I see you next?” I ask her.
“See me or see me naked,” she asks with a smile.
“I meant the first thing, but the second thing sounds good, too.”
“Tonight’s game, maybe? But I won’t be in the box. I’m watching with Georgia from Coach’s comp seats.”
“Okay.” I kiss her jaw. “Dinner Tuesday night? I know you have to go to Detroit on Wednesday.”
“Yeah.” She smiles up at me. “Good plan.”
“I’ll make a reservation.”
She opens the front door. “You mean you’ll ask someone to make it for you.”
“You never know. I can probably figure out how it works. For you, baby, I’ll do it. Hey, Bingley?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“How do you make a restaurant reservation?”