"Yeah," she agreed, gaze still lowered.
"Hey," I called, making her grudgingly lift her head. "Drinks, hot tub, and a movie of your choice?"
"You are going to let me choose? You, who wouldn't let me pick a single song the entire ride up here?"
"I can't help it if your music taste is awful, angel. You're fucking perfect in every other way but that. I have a lot higher tolerance for shitty movies than I do shitty music," I told her, watching as she tried to shoot me a disapproving look, but failed because she broke into a smile.
"That sounds almost like a... challenge to me," she decided, finally taking a bite of her food. "What is the worst movie I've ever seen? No, what is the movie I like that would make your eyes bleed?" she asked, stabbing more lettuce.
"You give that some thought, doll. I'll get the hot tub set up, and make the drinks."
About half an hour later, I was standing on the deck waiting for her, drinks set into the holders in the hot tub.
The doors opened, bringing her out in one of the robes from the bathroom, lips curled up in a victorious grin.
"I don't think I like that look," I told her as she moved past me toward the TV I had found in the cabinet.
"I have found a way to make your eyes and your ears bleed," she informed me, screwing around for a minute before she got the movie to play. "Mamma Mia!" she declared, whipping around, fucking beaming.
I'd told her no to three separate, obnoxious ABBA songs on the ride up. And I had a feeling all of those songs would be in this movie.
Christ.
"You're good, dollface," I said, shaking my head.
"Ah, how's the, um, water?" she asked, coming to stand near me, shifting her feet nervously.
Figuring it was about the whole getting half-naked part, I reached for my shirt, hauling it up and off, tossing it to the side.
"One-hundred-and-one. Perfect," I told her, undoing my button and zip, noticing her eyes sliding down my chest, stomach, landing at my hips as I shucked off my jeans leaving me in nothing but black boxer briefs.
I suddenly wished I was a normal boxers sort of man, figuring the looser material would likely make her more comfortable.
Deciding to make it easier, I hopped into the hot tub, hiding everything from the chest down. Which was a good move. Because when she took a deep breath and threw off her robe, my cock stiffened almost immediately.
She'd decided against a bra and panties, going instead with a tight black tank top and a pair of boy short panties in the same color.
A little more covered, yet leaving little to the imagination with the clinging material, with the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples pointing slightly through the tank.
"Come on in, doll," I invited, voice a little rough. I needed her in and more covered.
Because my mind was going all sorts of places I knew it had no business going.
With that, she moved over to the other side, stepping onto the stool placed there, and climbing in.
Fuck.
Not much better.
Because what did tits do in the water? Stood tall and proud, and demanding appreciation.
I reached for my drink, knowing I was going to need it.
If anything, I was thankful for the mental torture of her movie choice. At least it was a distraction from staring at her, focusing on the fact that she was half-naked and I was half-naked and there was something undeniably sexy about a goddamn hot tub.
But an hour and a half and three drinks later, Chris had moved to rest on the built-in chaise. And each time she took a deep breath, her breasts bobbed up over the surface of the water. Her warmth-accustomed nipples immediately pebbling at the shock of cold.
And my cock was still miserable.
"Are you alright over there?" Chris asked, delight in her voice, likely thinking my discomfort had everything to do with the movie, and nothing to do with her being damn near shoulder-to-shoulder with me now.
"You're a wicked woman, doll," I told her, watching as her smile curved up higher, making the edges of her eyes crinkle.
"It's a cute movie," she insisted.
"It wasn't awful," I allowed. "And I might prefer the covers to the originals. But not even this movie could redeem Dancing Queen, babe."
"Alright, I admit, that song even drives me a little crazy," she told me, sliding up on the bench, arm brushing mine.
My gaze should have been sliding down to her breasts again, but my eyes went to her face, looking for any sign of discomfort with the way her arm was now pressed against mine, shoulder to elbow.
But, as far as I could tell, there was none.
I reached out, slipping my hand under hers, fingers curling between hers, closing, squeezing.
Chris took a long, deep breath, her lips parting. But no tensing. No discomfort.
The small squeeze back from her was all the proof I needed that my observations were right.
"Doll?" I asked, voice a husky sound.
When her head turned, there was no mistaking the heaviness in her eyelids, the way her breathing was fast and shallow.
That was desire.
The problem was that even if she felt it, I didn't know how she felt about feeling it.
Luckily, surprisingly, almost unbelievably, her other arm lifted as her body twisted more fully toward me.
Her warm fingers pressed to my jaw, water dripping down my neck and chest.
She took a slow, deep breath, then closed the distance between us, hesitating for one short moment before her lips pressed to mine.
The touch was soft and uncertain, testing the waters, but even so, I felt a bolt of electricity from the contact shoot outward through my body, my stomach doing this weird tightening thing that was completely unfamiliar to me.
I could feel my hand squeezing hers, but tried to keep my body as still as possible, pliant, letting her take the lead.
Emboldening, she pressed her lips pressed harder, crushing into mine, inviting a reaction.
And that?
I could give her whole-fucking-heartedly.
It was unexpectedly difficult to keep my hands down, to let her completely take the lead.
Deepening.
Getting more demanding.
The tip of her tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, moving inside to claim mine.
A low, whimpering noise escaped her just a second before she yanked suddenly back, springing backward, slamming down, then letting out a yelp.
"You okay?" I asked as her face twisted up in pain.
"I misjudged the distance and caught the edge," she admitted, hand slipping under the water to rub her ass.
"Chris," I said, trying to get her gaze to lift. "Love, look at me," I demanded.
She took a deep breath, lifting her head. "Are you alright?" I asked again, tone a little more pointed.
"I, ah, I don't know," she admitted, reaching for the drink she'd only taken a few sips out of.
"It doesn't have to be a big deal," I told her, even if a part of me was hollering that there was something different about this, that it was a big deal.
"I don't want to make any decisions about what it is or what it isn't tonight," she told me, finishing her drink.
You had to respect that, didn't you?
"Okay."
"I know that's weird."
"It's not weird. It's smart. Most people make decisions without thinking. I'm guilty of that. Some time to think might actually be good for me. Or it might make my brain overheat..."