Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
What am I doing? Oh God.
I’ve lost all better judgment around him, and why? Because he has a great face, hands that I am desperate to feel cradle my body, and a soft side for me that apparently doesn’t exist for anyone else. He knows my situation on the drought scale. He understands how my type A personality fits into my neat-and-organized small-town life and accepts me for it. He even feeds it by whispering sweet nothings, like suggesting we make rules and follow them. I have the perfect guy asking how he can help me.
Please Lord, don’t let him reject me. “Can you help me with something?”
“What is it?” he asks through the one-inch opening of the door. “Do you need a towel?”
“No. I need . . .” I turn off the water again and sit back, covered in bubbles. Taking a breath, I ready myself for the worst, bracing the iron side of the claw-foot tub, and—
“Are you okay, Summer?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, losing my nerve. Just do it. “Can you come in here?”
The door slowly creaks open with his finger still in the air from pushing it open. “How may I be of assistance?”
Lying back in the tub, I keep my eyes forward while he remains behind me. “Did you see anything?”
“Other than you bathing?”
I glance back, seeing him leaning against the door with his arms crossed and admiring me like I’m prettier than any sunset, and ask, “Is that all?”
He smirks. “I saw you master-bathing.”
“Daniel!” The water splashes up the sides when I howl in laughter. “That’s such a bad joke.”
“Made you laugh, though.” His tone is as lighthearted as he makes me feel.
Happy. “I’ll give you that.” The earlier nerves rippling through me have disappeared, and I’m left with a smile and a desire to spend more time with him. Sexually and not sexually, but in that order. Do I cross the line from what this is—playful? —to more? We’ve kissed, so I know the attraction is mutual. I take a breath and try again. “I was . . .”
“You were what?”
“No, I was saying I was master-bathing.” I feel ridiculous repeating it, but his chuckle echoing in the small room makes me glad I did. But I’m not brave enough to ask this to his face and that great jaw of his, the eyes that stare at me expectantly, and just say it, Summer! “Maybe you could—”
“Lend a hand?” His tone is optimistic while I’m still second-guessing myself.
What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? “Yes.” I drop my head into my hands, cringing as I wait for him to either laugh, run out the door, or accept the mission.
The sound of his footsteps draws me to peer through barely spread fingers. Daniel kneels beside the tub and pulls my hand away from my face. “Are you asking me to touch you, Summer?”
I nod, my breathing too erratic to speak.
“Do you want me to make you come, Summer?”
Unable to breathe at this point, much less think coherently, my head bobs up and down like a dashboard ornament.
He gets on his knee. “Lie back and close your eyes.”
I lick my lips and get comfortable. Looking at him once more, I commit everything about how he’s looking at me to memory and close my eyes. I hear the dip of his hand and feel the water as it laps over my chest like it does in the cove. The back of his hand slides across the top of my thigh before I bend the other, and it jumps to slip down the inside of that one. His knuckles brush gently over my lower belly before he goes lower. “You have an incredible body,” he whispers as he slips between my legs.
His breathing deepens along with mine as I angle lower and then butterfly open my legs for him. He sucks in a sharp breath, his tone dropping to a sinful, almost growl. “Good girl.” My heart flutters, and I swallow hard as my eyes pop open. He’s watching as his hands explore with a worshipful awe softening his features as his Adam’s apple bobs. I never thought I’d be into dirty talk, but I’ll never be able to unhear those words from his lips, to unsee the pleasure mapped along his features as if he’s the one experiencing this.
Two fingers dip between my lower lips, exploring tenderly as I close my eyes again. His fingers bend, teasing, and I’m torn between accepting this or stepping out of the water to beg him to take me instead. I bite the tip of my tongue to keep from moaning and grip the sides of the tub to keep from grinding myself against his purposeful journey. “You are so soft,” he murmurs. “So responsive.”
“Mmm,” I respond breathlessly as the tip of his finger circles my entrance and dips just enough to make me gasp and hold my breath.