“I’m not drinking anything more tonight,” I protest.
“No problem, kitten. This is a hydrating beverage—cranberry and soda. Now come along.” He crooks one infuriating finger in my direction before carrying the tray past me and into the bathroom.
I admire his muscular body as he goes. Grrrr. Maybe if he’d put some clothes on, I could think straight.
“Charli!” he calls. “Come snack with me.”
“I wonder if that’s a euphemism,” I whisper. I follow him, because the moment he first kissed me tonight, I seem to have lost all self-control.
In the bathroom, he’s run a deep bath in his giant corner tub. There’s music playing over the speakers. He’s up to his chest in foaming water, a drink in his hand. The other glass is waiting for me on the tray, which rests on the tiled surface at one end of the tub.
It’s like the visual definition of decadence.
“Hop in,” he says, cheerfully.
I hesitate for only a second. I’m treating tonight like the blue silk dress—something to enjoy once before hanging it in the closet as a memory.
I toss the robe aside and walk naked toward the bathtub, stepping in carefully. Neil makes an unsubtle noise of approval. Ignoring him, I sink into the warm water, holding back a groan.
My plan was to sit as far from Neil as possible, but the tub has a seat for two people, plus a deeper area where you put your feet, so I end up next to him anyway.
God. I’m such a pushover. “I bet this is how you charm all the girls.”
In answer, Neil sets down his drink. He pulls me onto his lap, gently settling me against his sturdy chest.
“As a matter of fact,” he says, his voice low and rumbly in my ear. “This bathtub has never had two occupants before.”
“Why not?” I can’t resist asking.
He lifts the other glass off the tray and hands it to me. I take a sip, and the cool fizz of the fruity soda tickles my tongue.
“Not sure,” he says, smoothing my hair away from my face. “Never had the urge to invite anyone in here.”
“I’m surprised,” I say, arguing out of habit. “Both you and your tub were designed for decadence and seduction.”
He chuckles. “You just love to paint me as the playboy. The party boy. The sensualist.” He proves my point by kissing my neck slowly. Then he wraps an arm around my body and strokes my tummy with slick fingers. “And maybe you’re right. But you also think that it’s just a rich guy’s attitude.”
“Of course, I think that.” I lean back against his shoulder and try to prevent myself from purring. “Look at us right now.”
He chuckles. “Oh kitten, I am.”
“Laugh it up. But I can’t really afford to let go very often. That’s just the way it is.”
Neil lifts one wet hand to my shoulder and massages the muscles there. “But here’s the thing,” he says quietly. “You say you can’t afford to let go. But I feel like I can’t afford not to. None of us knows how much time we get. I don’t mean to be dark, but people have been telling me how easy it is to die from T1D all my life.”
“You’re not going to die,” I say quickly. What a horrible idea. “Not soon, anyway.”
He uses one strong arm to shut off the water, and the room gets quieter.
“No, baby.” He leans in and kisses my jaw. “I’m very careful and very healthy. But our time on Earth is finite, and I just happen to understand that a little better than most guys in their twenties. It makes you cautious. And sometimes it makes me live scared.”
The idea of Neil Drake living scared gives me actual goosebumps. I wouldn’t think that was even possible.
“So I fight that by living each day to its fullest. I refuse to die with regrets.” His firm hand gives my shoulder another squeeze. “That’s why I’m a party boy when it suits me. Not afraid to get naked in the limo. Not afraid to stay up late. And not afraid to leave everything I’ve got on the ice during a game. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth it.”
“Oh,” I say softly, my head spinning. Neil really needs to stop saying smart, thoughtful things. It’s messing with my head.
So is his touch. Those slick, wet fingers are traveling slowly across my torso. It’s so nice.
“I know that letting go is hard for you,” he whispers. “That’s why I’m honored that you gave that to me. Twice. Once in Vegas and once tonight.”
My goosebumps double. I tuck my cheek against Neil’s bare chest and try to hang onto my composure. He’s right. Letting go is hard for me. Sometimes it’s excruciating.
Although, when I’m old and gray, I’ll always remember this night. I’ll always remember the way Neil made love to me on a fur coat and then held me in the bathtub.
Those aren’t things a girl can forget. Even if she might want to.
The water makes a gentle lapping sound against the tub as Neil rubs smooth circles onto my back. Eventually, his water-slicked hand makes a pass around my rib cage, until he’s cupping my breast. His thumb circles my nipple seductively.
Then he does it again. Slowly, he kisses the nape of my neck, sucking gently. He plays with my breasts until I have a new set of goosebumps for an entirely different reason.
“Is this you showing me how to have fun?” I murmur.
“Nah. Preaching’s done for the night, Charli. This is me being a boob man. And your tits are spectacular.”
I snort-laugh against his collarbone, because that’s the Neil I know well. But I stop laughing pretty quickly as he takes my chin in hand and kisses me.
For a long moment, my heart wants to resist. Neil’s kiss is so… intimate. His bright eyes are right there, boring into mine. I’m conscious of every inch of my skin that’s touching his.
Neil somehow slides my drink out of my hand and turns me in his lap. He kisses me again, and there’s no place to hide. So I thrust my fingers into his thick hair, and dip my face to kiss his strong neck, laving my tongue across his hot skin.
His sudden moan is loud and hungry. My resolve weakens. Again. He pulls me upward for another impatient kiss. He clasps me against his body like he needs me to stay. Like he wants me to feel the way his cock is hardening again between my legs.
As if I could miss it. As we kiss, our bodies slide together, dripping wet, steamy skin on skin. Just like that, Neil has broken down my defenses.
The longer he kisses me, the less I care.
Eventually, morning comes. It always does.
For the second time, I wake up topless in a bed with Neil Drake III. In fact, I’m still cuddled up next to him. His hand is a pleasant weight on my hip, and one of his big feet is wedged between mine.
In the cool light of a Brooklyn morning, I am a little stunned at everything that happened. I did the nasty with Neil Drake. Twice, and with great enthusiasm.
It’s less surprising that Neil is so much fun in bed. I knew he would be.
But intimacy—even the fun kind—isn’t something I have experience with. I can’t toss my hair and write this off as an unexpected night of frivolity.
Now, whenever I look at Neil, I’ll remember every detail of those slow, searching kisses. And that thing he did in the tub with the ice cube against my nipple.