“Seriously?”
I’m peeling off my jean shorts. He keeps his eyes level with mine. My heart cramps. That’s one of the reasons I never told any boyfriends about Ed Ellis. That look on Forty’s face right now.
Screw him. There’s a hot tub, and I’m sticky and gross and saddle sore. I’m taking a dip.
“Crank it up,” I say as I pull my T-shirt over my head, slip off my bra, and work the elastic band out of my hair. Of course, my hair’s knotted to hell, and I take a good clump out when I finally get the tie free.
It looks like Forty uses the hot tub a lot more than the rest of the house. He gets the cover off in no time, and it’s steaming and ready to go.
“You bring the ladies here a lot?” The thought turns my stomach, but not enough that I don’t dip my toes into the bubbles.
“It helps my arm. Keeps it limber. My physical therapist recommended it.”
Oh. I glance over my shoulder. Forty’s still keeping his eyes glued above my neck. Ugh.
“You coming in?” I step down into the frothing foam, and it’s amazing. It’s so clean and the perfect temperature, warm enough to make the air seem cool, but not so hot as to make you sweat.
“Do you want me to come in?”
Double ugh. I float in the middle, let the jets hit me from all sides.
“You asking me now? You didn’t ask me on the picnic table behind Sawdust. Or at the clubhouse. Or at any point today.”
He stiffens to attention on the deck. He stays frozen for a long moment, and then he shrugs off his cut and lays it on a lounge chair. Then he bends over and unlaces his boots, setting them neatly side-by-side under a bench. Finally, he shucks his T-shirt and jeans, folding both and resting them on top of his cut.
I watch him, arms crossed and resting on the side of the hot tub, lazily kicking my legs behind me. It’s a symphony of sensation. Streams of water massage my sides, and when I twist just so, they nail my pussy. Wherever my skin emerges from the bubbles, the cool air nips, and the sunset’s turning the distance purple and orange while the sky overhead seeps into a deeper blue.
Crickets are singing in waves, and in front of me, Forty’s unwrapping his beautiful body, inch by inch. His tattooed arm. The scar and the burns. The chiseled stomach muscles and his sculpted back. His firm ass and his hard, veiny cock, bobbing in midair.
Well, nice to know he doesn’t see me any differently.
Finally, he steps into the tub and takes a seat opposite me. I lay my cheek on my forearm and let my legs float. A jet tickles my belly.
“You comin’ over here or do I need to come get you?”
I glance over my shoulder. Forty’s eyes are glittering and dark.
“You want me over there?”
“Yes,” he growls.
I make him sweat it for a few seconds and then I push back and let go, drifting over to him. He scoops me up and nestles me on his lap. His cock is blazing hot against my hip.
I’m exposed to the evening air from the waist up now. Goosebumps pucker my arms, and my nipples harden into achy points.
Forty doesn’t paw at me. He holds me very, very tight against his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. We both stare into the distance where the sunset casts its colors against the black outline of trees.
“I don’t know what to say,” he finally says low, right into my ear. Little shivers zip down my neck. Warm breath against my chilly neck. My crazy brain is anchored to the moment. “If I knew the right words, I’d say them. But everything I think to say—it’s wrong.”
I rest my head on one of his pecs. His body is amazing. He’s so strong. So solid.
“Say whatever you want.”
There’s a jet pounding the vertebrae right at the bottom of my spine. It’s making the spot tender, but it feels too good to shift.
“I would have killed him.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me.”
“Nope.” I drop a kiss right above his nipple. I let my lips linger to see if I can feel his heartbeat. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not for years.”
“I should have known. Fuck. I should have made you tell me.” His body’s tensing underneath me. Priming to fight. His arms wrap more tightly, and he’s surrounding me. As if he’s trying to protect me.
“You couldn’t have known.”
“You went crazy. I left, and you went crazy. And I never fucking asked why.” His voice breaks. It’s an ugly sound.
“You did ask. What the fuck is wrong with you, Nevaeh? Like a dozen times.”
“Why are you trying to let me off easy?”
“Why are you trying to beat yourself up?”
“’Cause I fuckin’ deserve it. Goddamn, Nevaeh. You were everything to me.”
“Nah.” I keep my voice gentle. I don’t want him to think I’m blaming him. “You wanted to see the world. Make a man of yourself. You wanted me, too. Sure. But you wanted that for yourself. That’s okay. Kids grow up. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”
“You think you weren’t the world to me?”
“It’s water under the bridge.”
“No.” Suddenly, Forty shifts me until I face him, my legs straddling his thighs, and he grabs my chin and makes me look him in the eye. “You were my whole goddamn heart. All these years since? Just me tryin’ to keep living without one. I reenlisted ‘cause there was nothing for me here. I bought a house. I want a family. But I can’t put anything in it. It’s your house. I go out with women; they’re nice—”
Oh, yuck. I don’t want to hear this. I try to cover his mouth, but his enormous arms are blocking me.
“—They’re not you. I don’t even remember their names.”
“They must love you.”
“Don’t make a joke out of it, Nevaeh. Do you know what I thought about on that helicopter? When I was falling out of the sky, and I knew I was gonna die?”
I muffle a soft cry by smushing my lips closed, and I dig my fingers into his biceps. I hate that image. I don’t want it in my head.
“Your face. Your wild hair. Your huge smile. Your beautiful face. Goddamn it, Nevaeh. Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have had to be mad all these years.”
“You didn’t have to be mad,” I whisper.
“You didn’t have to stay gone.” He wraps his arms around me again, crushing me to his chest. “We’re both stubborn as hell.”
“Yeah.” I smile into his damp skin.
“Do you like the house?”
“It’s all right. Could use more of a view.” The sky’s exploding in pastels now, every color of rainbow sherbet, and a smattering of stars are twinkling overhead.
“Nevaeh.” Forty runs his fingers in my hair, holding my head in place. He searches my eyes. “Always tell me the whole truth. Trust me. Promise.”
Heat gushes between my legs.
“Okay.” I tilt my hips forward so my clit grazes his cock. It’s now tucked between us, pointed straight up. I whimper and buck. The stretch in my hips, the bubbles on my toes. It all feels so good. My eyes drift shut.
“Nevaeh.” He shakes me—gently—and I open my eyes again, but I keep grinding, slipping my slick pussy against his wet cock. I’m swollen, almost unbearably tender. “Are you focused?”