Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
As we climb out, the night air is cool, scented with cut grass and jasmine from the garden. Jason is sleepy. He drags his feet, his takeout snacks dangling from one hand.
“That was fun,” he mumbles. I smile, my heart swelling for this boy who’s wormed his way into me.
“Yeah, it was,” I agree.
Max locks the car, his boots crunching gravel, and joins us. His hand brushes my lower back, and it’s a quick, hidden touch that sends a spark up my spine. I glance at him. His eyes catch mine, and it is smoldering with lust. We head inside, and the whole house is quiet and still. I love it, especially with the moonlight spilling across the marble. The fact is the house is ours—empty and free.
No staff and ... no Sara.
“Let’s get you to bed, buddy,” Max says. He scoops Jason up, his small body unresisting against his father’s chest, and I follow. I watch as Max sets him down on his bed. “Go brush your teeth.” He ambles off, and both of us drink each other in as we wait.
When he comes back, I kneel beside the bed and help him take off his sneakers. I pull the duvet over him.
“Do you want me to read you a story?” I ask, brushing a curl from his forehead. His beautiful eyes, so like Max’s, blink slowly, heavy with sleep.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, clutching his bear. Max sits on the edge of the bed as I grab a book from his shelf—about a fox who outsmarts a wolf—and read. I keep my voice low and soothing and soon his breath deepens. His eyelids start drooping.
When he falls asleep, neither Max nor I move. I look up at him. “That’s a damn fine boy you have here, Max,” I whisper.
Max swallows, then just nods. We linger, watching Jason sleep. I know I will miss this child. I‘ve grown to love him as if he were my own.
Then Max stands. His hand finds mine. His touch sparks through me like electricity. I meet his eyes, and the hunger there mirrors my own, a silent promise that makes my skin flush. His fingers lace with mine, and silently, he leads me out, the door clicking shut behind us. We pause in the hallway, the sconces casting faint pools of light.
The air is thick with anticipation.
“Feel like a swim?” he asks, his voice a low growl, his thumb brushing my knuckles, sending a shiver up my spine. "The pool's heated.” His eyes are dark, gleaming with intent, and my breath catches, the idea of the pool—warm water, moonlight, just us—ignites a reckless thrill.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice husky, a smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s do it.”
His grin is boyish, wicked, as he pulls me toward the back of the house, through the glass doors that open to the backyard. The night air is crisp, scented with chlorine and blooming jasmine. The patio is quiet, the only sound is the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city, a world away. And the pool is a large shimmering rectangle under the moon, its surface rippling softly.
Max strips off his T-shirt, the fabric sliding over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the tattoo on his arm—a dark, intricate swirl. Last night I traced it with my tongue. The memory makes my mouth go dry. He kicks off his jeans and stands in black boxer briefs, his body a sculpture of muscle and need.
“Your turn,” he says, his voice rough, his eyes locked on me, a challenge that makes my skin prickle.
I hesitate, my fingers trembling at the hem of my dress, but his gaze—hot, unyielding—pulls me forward. I lift the material over my head and discard it on the ground. His eyes widen at the sight of the decadent lingerie I’d donned earlier.
His eyes rove possessively over every inch of me, and I feel it like a touch, my nipples hardening, my core throbbing under his unrelenting stare.
“Fuck, Amelia,” he murmurs, stepping closer.
His hands reach for me, but with a soft laugh, I slip past him and dive into the pool. The water welcomes me like a hug, warm and silken, enveloping my body. Like a slippery seal, I glide under the surface. When I break through, I’m gasping, the night air cold against my wet skin, and Max is there, diving in after me, his body cutting through the water with a grace that steals my breath.
He surfaces close, water streaming down his face, his dark hair slicked back, eyes burning into mine. “You’re killing me,” he says, voice low, a half-laugh laced with hunger.
Water ripples around us in soft waves as he pulls me to him, hands on my hips, fingers digging in, and I wrap my legs around his waist, the water making me buoyant. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s all heat. The kiss is deep and demanding, his tongue tasting of the pizza we shared, of him, of us. I moan with need as my hands slide up his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart under my palms.