by Olivia Dade
Even tidy, the apartment wasn’t much to brag about. She could see most of it from the doorway, and she took a moment to scan the area before moving inside.
She made a noncommittal noise. “Utilitarian, but cozy.”
After setting down their bags, he tried to evaluate the space through her eyes. The small galley kitchen, the clean beige carpet, the white walls, the nubby blueish upholstery on the couch. The huge TV dominating the living room. The shiny oak coffee table.
All generic. Reflective of exactly nothing about him or his interests and tastes.
That wasn’t good enough for him anymore. Once Tess left, he’d—
No. He wouldn’t think about that now. They had tonight and more nights to come, and he was hoping they could make the most of their time together.
He swallowed back a twinge of panic and nodded toward the narrow hallway leading off from the living area. “The first door on the right is a half-bath. The other one is for the master bedroom and bathroom.” Master bathroom was a grandiose name for the tiny space with its claustrophobia-inducing shower, but technically correct. “And that’s about it. The apartment came with the job, completely furnished, and I don’t need much room for my stuff. All those years on tour, I never accumulated a lot of furniture or knickknacks or whatever. I know it’s not much, but—”
“Lucas.” She tugged his arm until he faced her. “You don’t have to defend your apartment to me. I understand why it looks like a hotel room. It doesn’t reflect who you are, because you chose not to have it reflect who you are.”
She got it. The deliberation with which he’d failed to insert himself into this space. Into this half-life he’d created on the island. Perceptive as hell, as always.
He let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”
“So…what now?” She was watching him, her hazel eyes bright.
Raising a hand, he smoothed the fine hairs at her temple. “Are you hungry?”
“Nope. Are you?” She tapped the bridge of his nose, her finger light as a whisper. “And is your nose still bleeding?”
“I’m not hungry either. But give me a minute in the bathroom to figure out whether I can remove my…” Her eyes brightened even more in anticipation, and he sighed. Whatever. He could use that damn name if it made her happy. “Whether I can remove my nose tampons yet.”
He started for the hall. “Make yourself at home in the meantime. The remote’s on the table, and it’s pretty straightforward to use. There’s juice in the fridge. A few snacks too, in case you change your mind about being hungry.”
He could really use a quick shower. If this evening progressed how he hoped it would, he didn’t want to subject Tess to Eau de Sweaty Balls.
As he opened the door to his bedroom, though, her hand on his arm brought him to a halt. He jumped a little, startled.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her forefinger at him. “I still want to see your injury in decent lighting. And if you think I’m getting naked with you before I wash off some of this sweat, you’re vastly mistaken.”
At the confirmation of all his most fervent hopes, his heart seized in his chest. “You said you were spending the night, but I didn’t want to assume…”
“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “I told you I liked you, and I’m a grown woman who enjoys sex. It’s not as if we’re going to spend the evening alone in your apartment together and do nothing but watch baseball.” Her grin plumped those cute cheeks of hers. “Although I do intend to round a lot of bases.”
“Tess.” He covered her hand with his. “I don’t want you to think this is casual for me. We can wait a few days.”
Her smile didn’t falter, and not an ounce of wariness clouded her gaze. “Is this casual for you?”
“No.” His hand squeezed hers. “Not in the slightest.”
“And you want to sleep with me?”
“You’re the sexiest woman on the face of the earth, and I honestly think my penis will spontaneously combust if we don’t have sex soon.” He aimed an apologetic grimace at his groin. “But I want to earn your trust first.”
She didn’t hesitate. “You already have it, Lucas. Let’s do this.”
He was pretty sure he was going to die if he didn’t start breathing again.
Tilting her head in thought, she added, “If you want me to spend the night, you’ll have to get up early. Belle and I booked a tour at the Inglethorpe Mansion tomorrow morning, so we need to leave on the first ferry to the mainland.”
“That’s…” He cleared his throat. “That’s doable.”
A light tap on his butt made him jump again. “And so are you. Let’s peek at your nose, get clean, and then get dirty again.”
He led her into the tiny, white-tiled bathroom, and they squeezed into the space between the vanity and the shower. Squinting in the overhead light, he studied his reflection.
Bags under his eyes from another sleepless night spent fixating on Tess. Shiny forehead from the heat. Sweat-darkened clothing. Blood-spattered tissue twists shoved up his swollen nose.
He started laughing. “This is literally the least seductive I’ve ever looked in my entire adult life.”
“This may not be your finest hour.” Her lips twitched as she scanned him in the mirror. “But rest assured, you’re still fine.”
“Are you sure you want to have sex with…this?” He waved a hand at his reflection.
Now she was laughing too, her head leaning against his chest as her mirth echoed in the small room. “Well, I didn’t plan to make tender love to your nose, Lucas. Or your sweaty workout clothes. So yeah, I think I’m good.”
Surrounding her shoulders with one arm, he pulled her closer. “Okay, then. Let’s survey the damage.”
With his free hand, he yanked the tissues from his nose, tossed them in the trash, and waited for the flood. And waited.
“Well, this is anticlimactic. I’d hoped for something reminiscent of The Shining. Or Carrie, at the very least.” Her brows furrowed, that adorable trident appearing between them. “Now that I consider the matter, Stephen King really has a thing about floods of blood.”
He gave his nose an experimental wiggle. Still nothing. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Apology accepted.” She lightly rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Does that hurt?”
When he shook his head, her eyes met his in the mirror. “Then, from what I can tell, you might get a bruise, but you didn’t sustain any major damage. Do you think that handsome face of yours can survive some contact?”
He wanted his face in a variety of enticing locations on her body, all of which would involve extensive skin-to-skin contact. As long as he wasn’t actively bleeding, there was only one answer to give. “Definitely.”
At her wicked grin, he had to support himself with a hand on the vanity.
“Good. Then let me call Belle and confirm I’ll be out tonight. I don’t want her to worry.” She headed back into the hallway. “Commence your manly sexytimes preparations, Lucas.”
He blinked after her. “Is that your former-teacher way of telling me to shower?”
“And whatever else you guys do before a woman spends the night.” Without turning around, she flicked her wrist in a dismissive gesture. “But make it fast, because I’m getting impatient, and I need a shower too.”
Tess, wet and naked in his apartment. Mere meters away from him.
That really seemed like a lost opportunity.
“We could shower together.” He cleared his throat. “For efficiency’s sake.”
She looked at him over her shoulder, her phone already at her ear. “I like the way you think.”
This seemed way too good to be true. “You’ll do it?”
“Brace yourself, Lucas. The Boobening is almost upon you.” Then she spoke into her cell, her eyes locked to his as he sagged against the bathroom doorway. “Belle, honey? Don’t expect me back at our room tonight. I have big plans for our tennis pro. If you don’t hear from him again, assume he died as he
wanted to live: smothered by my ginormous rack.”
What a way to go, he thought. What a way to go.
Fifteen
Tess cast a doubtful look at his shower. “On second thought, I’m not sure we’re both going to fit inside there. I think the stall started its life as a coffin.”
“Oh, we’ll fit.” He reached for the top hook of her sports bra and paused a moment. When she didn’t protest, he carefully tugged the fabric until the hook popped free from the eye, and then moved on to the next one. And the next. “Although I suspect our exit from its confines will look clown car-esque.”
His knuckles were brushing warm, slightly sticky skin. Soft. So soft. More cleavage was coming into view as the vee between her breasts deepened. Soon, he was going to strip off her leggings too, and witness the glory of her ample butt and round belly. Then feel her against him, length to length. Flesh to flesh.
“Clown car-esque?” She snorted. “If you honk my boob or spray me in the face with your flower, I’ll make sure your balloon animal never fully inflates again.”
He paused on the last hook. “Have I told you how much I admire the creativity of your genital-maiming threats?”
When she laughed, her bra’s final hook strained at its epic task. “Discussing potential injury to your date’s dick and balls is the key to an effective seduction, I’ve found.”
He smiled at her. “Well, it clearly worked on me.”
After pressing a quick kiss to that cute ski-jump nose of hers, he released the final hook and tugged the sports bra off her shoulders and down her arms. But he only let himself sneak a quick glance at her breasts before raising his eyes back to her face.
He had to have some class, after all. Or at least the pretense thereof.
Just that one glance was more than enough. The vision of her topless had seared itself onto his brain forever.
Because of their size, her breasts rested low against her ribcage, her areolas large and brown, her nipples tight. They were generous and plush and more beautiful than he’d imagined, and God knew he’d imagined them countless times since she’d plastered them against his back four days ago.
He wanted them in his hands, against his tongue. But more than that, he wanted her entirely naked in front of him for the first time. So he could wait a few more minutes. Maybe.
She stretched a little, and his mouth became the Sahara. “Oh, God, that feels good. Bras are the work of the devil.”
“Feel free never to wear one, then. I’ll fully support your decision.” He flexed his fingers. “Really. However you need support, I’m there.”
“How kind of you.” Her fingers grasped the hem of his shirt, her knuckles brushing his lower stomach, and he drew in a harsh breath. “Raise your arms.”
Lifting his arms and lowering his head, he let her remove the damp tee. He stood stock-still as she traced the lines of his abs and drew circles around his chest.
Her swallow was audible. “I’m…not sure I’ve ever been with someone like you before. If I have, it’s been a crapload of years. Maybe decades.”
She wasn’t meeting his gaze, and her voice had turned subdued.
Nope. He wasn’t letting her go down that particular road again.
“Someone like me?” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Do you mean a guy with a bum wrist who occasionally hits his head against light fixtures?”
“You’re an athlete. And so—” Another pass of her hand down his chest, to his belly. “So young. Guys my age, most of them look a little different. And women your age don’t look like me. Gravity’s a real bitch, Lucas.”
He took a moment to consider the best way to respond.
“Maybe you don’t look twenty-six. But you look like you.” Covering her hand with his, he drew it down further. Lower and lower, until her palm rested against his eager dick. “You can feel what that does to me.”
When she pressed a little harder, he bit off a groan.
He stared at her downturned head. “I want you, Tess. Will you please let me take off the rest of your clothes so I can show you how much?”
After a moment, she gave a little nod. “Yeah. But first, let’s get that big body of yours bare. I’ve seen you without your shirt, but never without those shorts. I have a strong suspicion your ass will ruin me for all other men’s posteriors, forever and ever.”
Her chin tipped up, and she was smiling at him again, her fingers playing at his waistband. All doubts evidently banished once more, at least for the moment.
He nuzzled his nose against hers. “One can only hope.”
She tugged his shorts and boxer-briefs down in one quick movement, and he stepped out of them. His erection hot against his stomach, he turned in a circle for her perusal.
Never, not once in his life, had he appreciated his training so much. If all those burpees and lunges and sprints and lifts meant Tess Dunn got that dazed look on her sweet face and kept staring at his ass with the sort of longing usually reserved for, say, the crown jewels, he’d do thousands more of them. Millions.
“You have that line,” she whispered. “I didn’t know that was possible in real life.”
He frowned, confused. “What line?”
“I mean, your cock is impressive too, which I kind of expected. But this…” She touched a spot above his hip, then traced a path down and to the center, just short of where his dick was eager to meet her touch. “Wow.”
“That?” Her finger lingered, and he attempted to keep breathing. “My physio called it the iliac furrow.”
“And those dimples on your ass…” She caressed a spot on each cheek. “I want to bite them later. Is that okay?”
Red alert. Time to deploy baseball statistics. Like numbers of home runs or strikeouts or touchdowns or field goals or—
Wait, he didn’t know any baseball statistics. He didn’t even watch baseball.
Shit.
“Uh…” Deep breaths. Those might work. “Yeah. Please.”
“Really?” Her face brightened to near-incandescence. “In that case, hurry up. Let’s get me naked.”
Thank Christ.
Before anything could delay him further, he yanked those damn leggings down as she obligingly lifted each foot in turn. Within the next heartbeat, he’d whipped off her panties too.
Someday, he’d take his time appreciating the sight of her in her underwear, but not tonight. Not while he was awash with this sort of desperation.
He clambered to his feet, but didn’t let himself stare until he’d reached into the shower and turned on the water. Then, as it began to heat, he clasped her upper arms and gave a gentle squeeze. “Hold still, älskling. I want to take a good look at you.”
Her body was lush and round, not a straight line to be seen. He skimmed a palm over the curve of her belly, the swell of her hip, the abundance of her dimpled ass.
He understood her desire to bite, in a way he hadn’t mere moments ago. More than that, though, he wanted to sink into her and never emerge.
The shower was steaming now. So was he.
He raised his gaze to hers, and she wasn’t quite smiling. But her eyes were soft and warm and direct. Not shy or, God forbid, ashamed.
“Let’s get in the shower.” He opened the door, stroking a hand down her bare back as he ushered her inside. “If it’s too hot or too cold for you, just turn the handle.”
He squeezed in beside her, and they stood naked, only a bare centimeter away from one another. The water streamed over her shoulders and down the extravagant arcs of her body, the rivulets gleaming in the light overhead. Her hair turned inky beneath the flood, a rosy flush blooming on her pale skin at the heat of the spray.
“I love how you have dimples everywhere. Here.” She rose up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to both his cheeks. “Your butt, of course. Even your knees, kind of.”
He glanced down. “Those are just my kneecaps. They’re knobby.”
“They’re perfect, so hush.” She shook a disapproving finger at
him. When he caught it in his mouth, her breathing hitched. “None of that until we’re clean, mister.”
They took turns washing each other. She went first, soaping her hands and gliding them over his skin, leaving slippery trails along his arms and inner thighs and across his belly. Then she was sliding her hand up and down his cock and cupping his testicles, and the bubbles tickled while his flesh tightened and surged beneath her attention.
Much more of that, and they’d be done before they began.
“Enough,” he told her, and gently moved her aside so he could quickly shampoo his hair, finish soaping himself, and rinse away all the suds.
Her lower lip poked out a tad, and he could see for a moment the sulky teenager she might once have been. But she sounded more amused than disgruntled when she spoke. “I’d just gotten to the good bits, spoilsport.”
There. He was clean, and now it was her turn.
“Oh, the good bits are still coming.” He winked at her. “So to speak.”
A handful of his shampoo later, and he was tunneling his fingers through her hair, letting them massage her scalp as he worked up some lather. “Does this feel good?”
He interpreted her inarticulate mumble as a yes. Tilting her head back, he supported her neck with his palm as he rinsed away the shampoo beneath the spray.
When he was done, her eyes blinked open again, water droplets shining from her lashes like diamonds. “That felt amazing, but we’ve waited long enough. Take me to bed, Lucas.”
He slapped a hand against the side of the shower stall to steady himself.
No. No, he wouldn’t rush this first time. “I was told we had to get clean first. And that’s what we’re going to do.”
“But I—”
So he lowered his head and kissed her while he turned the soap between his palms. His tongue played with hers, the wet heat of their mouths echoed in the steamy bathroom. While she was too busy to protest further, he began running his hands across her soft shoulders, down her long arms, and over her back. Along the way, he dug in his fingers as he’d felt his physio do millions of times, in hopes he could help ease any soreness.