“Could too. ‘With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come,’” he recited.
“Wow, that’s poetic.”
Kyle laughed. “Should be, it’s Shakespeare. Kinda what he was known for.”
“You just happen to have random Shakespeare passages floating around in your head?”
He knew the quote like the back of his hand, since his mother had a framed art print of it hanging in the living room at home. He hadn’t counted on Drea not recognizing it—he’d always just assumed it was a quote that everyone knew. “Mom has that hanging in the living room, so I saw it every day of my life. But I did have to memorize a sonnet in twelfth grade English,” he noted.
“Yeah? Do you still remember it?” she asked.
Kyle froze. He did still remember it. Filed away in his head, like old song lyrics, he still knew every word to sonnet number twenty-three, like he’d had to recite it to the class only yesterday. He remembered why he chose it too. Mr. Willet had helped him pick it out and helped him rehearse it, telling him stories about how he understood exactly what Shakespeare was talking about. That when he’d met his wife he was so taken with her that he had frozen, just like an actor who had forgotten his lines. Kyle remembered wondering if he’d ever find a woman who did that to him. Giving Drea a little squeeze, he realized he had found a woman who did that to him. A woman he loved like that. But he couldn’t bust out that sonnet right now, confess such an emotion. He’d tell her soon. This just was not the time and place to say those words for the first time.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day...” he said, jokingly.
“You did not choose that one. I know you better than that!”
“No, but it was a good line. I thought I could try it out, be romantic.”
“Awww, you succeeded,” she said, turning and kissing him on the cheek. “I think I could get used to this, just me and you, curled up at the bonfire.”
“Me too, sweetness, me too.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The sound of water running greeted Kyle as he rolled over in Drea’s bed, finding her side empty. A quick look at the little clock she kept on her nightstand let him know that it was late enough that she’d already been for her run and was getting ready for the day. A feeling of contentment washed over him as he lay there, listening to the sounds that wafted out of the bathroom. Last night could not have been better had he scripted it. They’d been left alone by pretty much everyone, staff and guests alike. Even the rest of her family hadn’t made an appearance after the bets were taken. After the divorce party decided to go for a late-night dip au naturel, and Dalton had nearly been puked on, Kyle and Drea had snuck away, back to her cottage. Despite her protestations that she’d gotten a second wind, Drea had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Her bed was incredibly soft and comfortable, the kind of place you could easily cocoon yourself in for days. However, the idea of joining her in the shower beat out thoughts of falling back asleep. Throwing the covers off himself, Kyle got out of bed and slipped into the bathroom as quietly as he could. Knowing Drea wouldn’t expect him up quite yet, he undressed and slowly pulled back the shower curtain just enough to slip into the shower with her. She let out a little yelp of surprise as he did so, turning around so the water cascaded onto her back and her front pressed up against his.
Her warm, wet skin felt good against his, and he could feel her nipples reacting to the chill from no longer being under the warm water, sending all the blood rushing to his groin. He could feel himself getting harder by the second, and he was sure she could too. By the looks of her wide eyes growing dark and the mischievous grin on her face, she could more than feel it.
“Well, hello there,” she said, reaching down in between them, grasping onto his shaft.
“Good morning, sweetness,” he responded, leaning down, capturing her lips in his for a kiss. “Need help soaping up?”
Spinning back around, facing into the water, she wiggled her hips toward him. “My back could use some attention.”
The shower gel she had in there smelled of citrus, matching her shampoo, as he squeezed some out onto his hands, lathering up. He massaged some into her back briefly, before bringing his hands around to her front, finding her breasts, and pinching her nipples. She let out a moan as he continued. Reaching behind her, she found his cock again, stroking it long and slow.
“Like what you found?” he asked, low and husky.
“Very, very much.”
They spent the rest of their morning shower stroking and caressing, until they both were in a state that required them to shower for real. Each taking a turn under the hot water and trying to not freeze while it was the other’s turn, they laughed and joked about all the things that happened at the bonfire. When they finally got out of the shower, one look at the clock told them they needed to speed up their routine if they were going to make breakfast on time.
Rushing through the lobby, Kyle held on to Drea’s hand tightly, leading the way around guests and staff members. A couple of dirty looks from wait staff in the dining room later, they made their way into the kitchen, both laughing from the wild ride of a morning.
Everyone but Grayson was in the kitchen, sitting down at the table. Vaughn and Simone were both focused on their phones, while Miller sat hiding behind the morning paper. Kyle knew it was him simply by the weird way he folded it. They grabbed the two seats in between Miller and Simone, grabbing cups for coffee as Grayson slid in the back door from the alley.
“Gray, you’ll be happy to hear that some light bulbs seem to have been replaced in the kitchen last night. So, you appear to be saved from the shirt,” Miller said, putting the paper down and passing a coffee mug to his brother.
“Am I the only one who was in the dark about that reference?” Kyle asked Drea. “Pun not intended.”
“I think so,” she answered.
“Kyle, congrats, my man, you nailed the skinny-dipping divorcées,” Grayson said, holding out a fist to Kyle. Kyle reached out and bumped, feeling pretty proud of himself.
“Excuse you, I called the puker!” Drea exhaled.
“Yes, you did, baby girl,” Miller said. “And she puked during her dad’s attempt at a speech if I’m correct.”
“She sure did,” Grayson muttered, shivering from the thought of the amount of vomit the moment resulted in. “Speaking of, whoever had the distinct pleasure of cleaning that up deserves a bonus this month.”
“So, it comes down to knitting needles and the creeper in 531,” Miller said.
“I saw Mr. 531 making his rounds, and I did not see a single knitting needle,” Vaughn interjected.
“But you said he’d hit on everyone under thirty, and he did not make it to every last person under the age of thirty. Drea, did you encounter 531?” Simone asked.
“Nope, he didn’t say a single word to me all night.”
“Me either,” Kyle interjected. This was met with another fist bump from Grayson.
“But there were no knitting needles either, so some encounters overrules no needles,” Vaughn argued.
“Does not!” Simone argued back.