Chapter 15
fifteen
. . .
Rosalie
Hot Tub—Hotter Fake Boyfriend
“You don’t have to say that, Wells. It’s o—” I start, but immediately, he silences me with the pad of his finger against my lips and a firm shake of his head.
“I don’t say anything that I don’t mean.
I’m telling you that I am so fucking attracted to you, and I’ve wanted you…
this. The things I want to do to your delectable, perfect body since the first day I saw you, Rosalie.
The only reason I haven’t is because I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for.
” His palm slides from my jaw, down my neck to my nape, where his fingers curl and he pulls me even closer.
I can feel his warm breath caressing my lips from how close he is.
Almost touching mine, but far enough away that I want to beg for him to kiss me.
I’m not sure he even realizes the effect that he has on me, on my body in question, but it feels magnetic. As if we’re drawn together. And even with the mountain of reasons why we shouldn’t, it can’t keep us apart.
I suck in a breath as his amber-colored eyes darken when they drop to my chest, and I follow the same path, suddenly aware of how the fabric of my shirt is plastered against my skin.
His warm, heated gaze roams over my skin appreciatively, and for the first time in a long time, he makes me feel wanted with just the way that he’s staring at me.
It gives me a wave of confidence I desperately needed.
“Let me prove it to you, beautiful,” he rasps against my lips, the air crackling with thick, heady tension between us. “Make me earn it the way he never did.”
I’m going to melt in this freaking hot tub.
For probably the hundredth time since I’ve met him, I wonder how this man is even real. Not only is he irresistibly attractive, but he’s also kind and patient, and these whispered words make my core throb.
Make me achy with need.
That I haven’t experienced… maybe ever.
“Kiss me, Wells,” I plead, the words a low, hoarse whisper, thick with needy arousal.
The words are barely past my lips when he crashes his mouth against mine and steals every drop of air from my lungs. His fingers tighten at my neck, and a bolt of desire races down my spine.
Wells McCoy isn’t tender or hesitant. Much like the man he is, his kisses are powerful and all-consuming, and I feel every ounce of it to the very ends of my toes, which curl against his calves when he takes my lip between his teeth and bites gently.
Soothing the spot moments later with his tongue, he then sweeps it between my parted lips and tangles it with mine.
My thighs clench, the space between them throbbing with each stroke of his tongue, with each breath he gives and takes.
His hand that isn’t tangled in my hair slips to my waist, curving around the slight dip there, and moves to my hips, where he fists the fabric of my T-shirt.
I’m burning so hot, completely unsure if it’s the temperature of the water or if it’s solely the man touching me, that I feel like I might combust at any moment.
The steady, heavy thrum of my pulse in sync with my heart makes me feel dizzy with… desire.
It’s been so long since anyone has touched me this way.
I’m drunk on the feeling.
Suddenly, he’s tearing his mouth from mine, staring back at me with a dark, hooded gaze, his chest heaving in the same way that mine is.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he murmurs, reaching up to drag his thumb along my swollen bottom lip.
Swollen from being thoroughly kissed by a man who is only temporarily mine.
I don’t even care though. I’ll take him for however long I can have him.
His mouth lowers to my neck, and I tip my head back, exposing more of myself to him when he plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat, the spot behind my ear, the edge of my jaw.
It makes me desperate for more.
The moment his teeth rake a path along my skin, my back arches, and my fingers fly to his unruly hair, threading between the thick strands.
God, this freaking man, everything about him, is hot, but especially his mouth.
I know that he’s not been hand delivered to me by Santa because that, of course, is impossible, and also crazy, but you know what… Thank you, Saint Nick, for whatever in the hell has happened to put this man in my path.
Even if it’s only for now, I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
The feel of Wells’ rough hands touching my bare skin sends shivers down my spine as they make their way beneath my shirt.
He pulls back to look at me, the question shining in his eyes… one that I have zero hesitation in answering. “More?”
I nod. “Please.”
Slowly, so torturously slowly, he slides his palm higher and higher until he’s lifted the dripping fabric to my chest. The bite of cool night air hits my skin, and goose bumps erupt on my flesh, my nipples pebbling into hard, stiff peaks.
His gaze drops to my chest, and a groan vibrates out of him. “Christ, you really are perfect.”
My cheeks burn at the compliment, and I fight the urge to cover myself, to hide myself from his intense, heated stare, but I don’t.
I want to feel his eyes on me, despite all my insecurities, because he makes me feel beautiful and desirable from the way he’s looking at me right now.
By the way he’s touching me without hesitation, without reservation.
I draw my lip between my teeth as he slowly tugs my shirt off the rest of the way and then reaches behind me, unclasping my bra and pulling it down my arms. He tosses the wet clothes outside the hot tub, and they land with a loud squelch.
I can’t stop the giggle as it bursts free, causing his lips to tug into a grin.
It’s ridiculous, but I like that even in a moment like this, where I’m literally and figuratively bared for him, where I’m more vulnerable than I’ve been with anyone in years, he’s still making me laugh.
Making me feel comfortable.
Wells plants his wide palm along the bare skin of the center of my chest, and I try not to shiver but fail, miserably, my nipples hardened into tight, nearly painful points.
I can see his playful smirk as he slides his hand lower to cup my heavy breast in his palm, his thumb sweeping along my skin until it feels as if it’s buzzing.
His gaze darkens, desire blazing within the depths while he drinks me in unabashedly, until he leans forward and brings his mouth inches from my skin. He hovers just above the swell, not touching but so close that I feel the warmth of his breath caressing me.
“This is what I meant when I said perfect.” He closes his mouth around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it between his lips. My clit pulses, and my back bows, pushing further against his lips, seeking more. When he pulls back, he cups my tits again in his massive hands.
I never thought I’d see the day when I felt small with a man, but everything about him is so… huge.
“The perfect size to fill my hands,” he murmurs as if reading my mind, his gaze holding mine while his thumb ghosts along the peak of my nipples, over and over until I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. “The prettiest little nipples. Pink and hard, begging for my mouth.”
His lips latch onto the swell of my tit, sucking it into his mouth so hard that I know there will be evidence of it tomorrow, and I’m not sure why that sends tendrils of arousal shooting down my spine.
At the thought of being marked by him.
Like I’m his.
Really his.
He spreads kisses all over my chest, and I’m panting by the time he pulls back to look at me.
“The softest skin that smells so fucking sweet.”
Another kiss, this time down the center of my chest, then another lower, and lower.
Suddenly, he’s rising onto his knees, his arms slipping beneath the water and hooking beneath my thighs.
“Wha—”
I can’t even finish the question because he’s lifting me out of the water and gently placing me along the corner of the hot tub like I weigh nothing at all.
“I can’t wait another fucking second to taste you.”