Nova unlocks the door and tugs her ponytail holder out with her free hand.
My throat dries.
Dammit.
I’m no saint. I don’t even play one for the cameras.
I try to summon every ounce of restraint in my body to remind us both that there are more important things than sex.
Inside, she hangs up her jacket and holds out a hand for mine. I pass it over.
“Is Brooke here?” It’s more cough than words.
“No, she’s at an event tonight.”
Nova reaches for the hem of her shirt and drags it up over her head, revealing a pink lace bra a few shades lighter than her hair. Her tits are curved and tempting.
A few days ago, I would’ve been thrilled with this Nova. Now, I’m wondering if our talk gave her the wrong idea. I don’t want her in bed at the expense of her heart.
I want all of her.
I follow her down the hall, kicking off my shoes. My T-shirt goes next, along with her leggings and underwear and bra. I can’t swallow my groan as her body is revealed in all its glory.
I drag her against me, my mouth crushing hers.
Goddamn, she feels perfect. I’ve dreamed about her like this so many times.
“You’re so warm,” she mumbles against my lips.
“Gonna make you warm too,” I promise.
Without breaking our kiss, I reach past her to turn on the jacuzzi. She puts the plug in the tub and steps inside, tugging me after her.
I resist. The idea of following her in and taking her in the water, hearing her moans echo off the tile, is sweet heaven. But I want to spoil her.
“You got any girly stuff?”
She blinks at me. “What, like tampons?” Nova’s laughter fills the air, and I’m suddenly awkward as a teenager.
“Nah. Like…” I struggle to think of the word. “Bath stuff.”
“Oh. Under the sink.”
I go looking for anything in pastel colors and find some smelly epsom salts under the sink. I pour them in the water, then I shift onto the tile at the edge of the sunken tub behind her shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a massage.”
“You could do it in the tub.”
No, I can’t.
When I start touching her in the jacuzzi, feeling her slippery curves, it’ll be that much harder to hold back.
Desire got the better of me last time. She’s giving me another chance, even if she wouldn’t call it that, and the hardest part will be winning her heart.
I’m committed. This is the most important game I’ve ever played, and nothing’s getting in the way of my victory.
It’ll be like rehabbing my knee.
Slow and steady.
One step at a time.
My fingers start at the base of her neck, pressing in deep. I work my way down her back, taking my time and kneading out knots as I go. Her skin is soft and warm under my touch, and she moans softly.
“Too hard?” I ask.
“No. You’re really good at that.”
My cock twitches, and I tell it to calm the fuck down.
I focus on her, rubbing tiny circles with fingers that are huge against her delicate muscles and bones. I press my thumbs into the small of her back and work my way up to her shoulders. She sighs in pleasure, tilting her head back until it rests against me.
“How’re things with your sister?” I ask.
Nova frowns. “You want to talk about Mari right now?”
No, but I want to know how Nova’s life is going and her sister is part of that.
“Okay. Things are better than they were when I got here.” She fills me in, ending on, “Except…it was Mari who set me up on that date.”
Course it was.
My shoulders tense. “Want me to tell her to stop?”
Nova laughs softly. “I let her know I wasn’t looking to date right now.”
Satisfaction reverberates through my body, until I realize maybe that policy extends to me.
“How was the road game?” she asks under her breath.
“Tough,” I admit. “But no back-to-backs this week at least.”
I move my hands to her arms, kneading in slow circles. My fingertips find their way along the length of her neck, trailing feather-light touches that induce a shiver from head to toe before settling into a steady rhythm at the base of her skull that has her sighing with delight.
With each stroke, Nova relaxes more and more.
“Get in. Please,” she sighs.
“Why?”
“I want to give you a massage,” she says, her voice dragging along my spine with wicked precision. “The kind you can’t get anywhere else.”
“I can get any kind I want,” I tease.
She turns to face me, her eyes narrowing. “You better not.”
“You jealous, Pink?” I’m strangely into it, not because I want her to question that she’s the only woman I think about that way, but because it means she cares.
Nova lifts one shoulder in a shrug.
“Last chance to get in,” she murmurs. “Are you really saying no?”
I’m fighting the urge to climb in with her, to strip off the last of my clothes and fuck her tight pussy until she’s begging me to let her come the way she’s begging me to join her now.
What she means is, can I fuck her and not care about her? Not need her and not need her to need me back?
“No. I mean, yeah, I’m saying no.”
As much as I want this, I won’t take it until she admits she wants to give us another chance.
She sighs and slumps back against my chest.
“That a dealbreaker?” I murmur against her cheek. “You going to kick me out if I won’t be your fuckboy?”
“I suppose not.” She holds out a hand for a towel. “Let’s watch a movie.”
We settle on Pretty Woman. Nova likes rom-coms and Julia Roberts, and tonight I want to give her what she wants.
We’re curled up on the couch together as we watch the business man getting stripped down by the crass, charming sex worker. Nova let me pull her into my lap, a softer version of our position in the tub because we’re both dressed, even if she’s only in little shorts and a T-shirt.
I’m a breath away from looking up whether blue balls can cause permanent damage.
“I appreciate what you did for me with James,” she murmurs as we watch. “My entire life I’ve had reasons not to believe in myself. You believe in me as if it’s a given. That means more than I can express.” She hums. “When it comes to you, I need to trust you, but I also need time to know I can trust my own judgment. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of?” I’ve questioned other people lots but rarely myself.
In her position, though, with what she’s been through growing up and her parents' deaths and dating manipulative assholes, I can see how she’d second-guess.
“I get why they don’t kiss,” she goes on, still watching the TV. “It’s easier to keep things impersonal.”
"Impersonal" my ass.
“Are you laughing?” she goes on, twisting to look up at me.
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because that ship sailed before I took you to Red Rocks that first night,” I murmur.