Chapter 14 #2
She looks as though she belongs in a photoshoot. Elegant. Immaculate. A little self-conscious, but trying not to show it. She crosses her arms for a second, then catches herself and lets her tits drop, chin lifted like she knows exactly what effect she’s having.
I am already in the hot tub and barely keeping it together.
I drop my gaze to the bubbles and force myself to breathe through my nose.
Cold water probably would have been smarter.
She’s not even looking at me, but I can feel the burn of her skin near mine, the gravity of it pulling me in.
I shift slightly, adjusting the angle of my hips beneath the surface before things get too obvious.
I’m getting hard over her, looking at my stunning fake fiancée.
Juliet steps in and slides beside me like nothing’s happening. The water swirls, heat rising, steam wrapping around her bare shoulders and collarbones. Her thigh brushes mine, and she doesn’t flinch. If anything, she leans in closer.
Keep my hands on the edge of the tub, I train my eyes on the water. I try not to imagine what would happen if I turned toward her and pulled her into my lap. The sounds she would make. The feeling of her heated skin under my palms.
Fuck. I have to stop. Beneath the surface of the water, I’m hard as stone, silently begging the water to hide it.
“This is nice,” she says, leaning back against the edge.
“The hot tub or the company?”
“The hot tub. The company remains to be seen.”
I splash her, and she shrieks. She splashes me back and I grab her hand, smirking.
“You wanna go, Monroe?”
“Huxley.” She feigns innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She follows her words with another splash.
Suddenly we’re having a water fight like actual children instead of two adults pretending to be engaged.
I scoop water and dump it on her head. She returns the favor with smaller, more forceful splashes that nail me in the face every time.
In the end, I grab her hands, pulling her close as I grin down at her.
“This is why I call you Firecracker.” Holding both of her hands in one of mine, I tickle her ribs lightly. She reacts as if I just set her on fire, her body contorting.
She’s extremely ticklish. That’s good to know. I file that away, even though I have no use for the fact.
“Truce,” she gasps, writhing out of my hold.
“Only if you admit I’m excellent company.”
She wipes her face and cracks, “You’re tolerable company.”
“I’ll take it.”
She moves a little further away, which the caveman inside the back of my head doesn’t like one bit.
I reach for her feet, pulling them into my lap.
She pulls them back an inch, brows drawn like she’s debating whether it’s worth the risk of letting me touch her like this.
I don’t push. I just wait, silent. Eventually, she sighs and slides her feet closer to me.
“Do not tickle me,” she warns, her eyes on my face.
“I would never.” That’s… probably not a lie. I might, under the right circumstances. “Gimme.”
Juliet’s toes curl slightly like she’s already bracing for something. I settle her ankle against my thigh and start slowly, letting my thumbs work into the arch of her foot with steady pressure.
She exhales, soft and shaky, and it shoots straight to my cock. Her other foot shifts under the water, brushing my calf like an accident. I keep my face neutral, my jaw tight, pretending this is no big deal, like I’m not completely wrecked just from the way she melts when I hit the right spot.
She makes a tiny, involuntary sound in the back of her throat, almost like a whimper, and I suppress a groan.
That noise. Jesus. If this is how she sounds from a foot massage, I’d bet money she’s fucking devastating when she’s being touched the way she really wants to be.
Pinned to a wall, mouth on my neck, legs wrapped around my waist while she makes those same breathy little sounds right into my ear.
I adjust her heel in my palm and keep going, fingers gliding over soft skin, thumbs pressing into all the tension she tries to hide. She’s trying not to react. I can tell. But her body gives her away. Every tiny twitch, every shift in her breathing. She’s not relaxed. She’s lit up. Just like me.
At length, Juliet pulls her feet away and clears her throat.
“Thanks.” Her mouth pulls to the side. “Uh, do you know when dinner is?”
“I think we’re missing it,” I say with a shrug. “I can’t hear the football game going on anymore. That usually means food has been served.”
“Want to go up?”
Yeah, I do want to follow her. But I also don’t want Juliet to see the fact that my cock is still at half-mast over the sounds that she was making.
“Sure. You go ahead. I’ll be right there.”
She gives me a dubious look, like I’m up to something nefarious, before getting out, water running down her ass and legs like some kind of porn video made just for me.
“Get dressed before dinner!” I call as she’s disappearing upstairs. I’m not sure if she heard me, but if she doesn’t put a lot of clothes on, my teammates are going to have trouble keeping their tongues in their mouths when they see her.
That thought gets me up and toweling off, eager to chase Juliet up the stairs. She gets dressed in a soft white sweater and dark jeans that make her ass look fantastic. No makeup, no jewelry but my ring on her finger.
I don’t know why that’s so sexy, but damn. Juliet is smoking hot, especially when she bends down to get her shoes on and I get a peek at her creamy tits. I’m hard for her in a heartbeat, imagining the taste of her pussy and the feel of her nails against my scalp.
She doesn’t seem to notice that I’m a horny, brooding idiot. I’m thankful for that, at least. She looks up at me. “Ready?”
The private chef has laid out a feast for us.
Cedar-plank salmon, truffle risotto, and lime gimlet cocktails strong enough to fell a tree.
It’s all incredibly delicious. Most of the team finished eating at the large dining room table before we arrived.
I spot Shane yawning even though it’s barely eight.
It’s been a long, full day.
Juliet enjoys two cocktails, after which I put a can of bubbly water in front of her. Those cocktails were strong, and she’s a tiny person. She gives me a mischievous look but sips the water without complaint.
Jessa and Ivy bail early, citing the long day. Moose herds the rookies toward their cottage, muttering something about bedtime stories. Juliet catches my eye across the table, taps her wrist, and mouths, bedtime?
I push back from my chair immediately, pulse already drumming. “We should probably head out too.”
The walk to our house feels longer than it should. Every step makes this more real, more immediate. We’re about to spend the night in the same bed and I’m trying not to think about what that means.
She deserves someone stable. Someone who doesn’t flinch when the word mom comes up in conversation. Someone whose worst day doesn’t end up on ESPN with slow-motion replays. I can fake it for the cameras, but she’ll never really want a damaged defender like me.
Not if she ever sees the full picture of who I am underneath all the performance, anyway.
But damn if I don’t want to take her to bed right now.
Our cottage smells like cedar and sea brine. It’s cozy, with a king-size bed dominating the main room and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.
Juliet ducks into the bathroom and emerges in silk shorts and a camisole, her face scrubbed clean except for that lethal red lipstick she never seems to go without. I strip down to boxer briefs.
She catches sight of my body, her eyes sinking down to my abs and then briefly considering my dick. Then her face flames.
“Huxley! Put some clothes on!”
I knew that would get her going. “I run hot!”
Really, I just wanted her to look. She fans herself with her hand.
“You’re the worst.”
I look down at myself, as if considering her words. “I don’t think you mean that. Look at these abs. Do you know how hard I’ve worked for these?”
She practically swallows her tongue, scowling, and climbs under the duvet. I watch as she immediately starts building a wall of pillows down the middle of the bed.
“Really?” I ask. “What is the pillow barrier for?”
“For… protection. So there are no mistakes.”
Juliet says that pointedly, as if I would be the one to feel her up in my sleep. The joke’s on her because I don’t think I can sleep at all with her half-naked in my bed.
I get under the covers on my side, amused by her pillow fortress. “This is ridiculous. Two grown adults, playing sleepover like we’re twelve.”
“Pretty sure twelve-year-olds don’t build pillow fortresses to avoid sexual tension,” she mutters into the blanket.
I grin. “So you admit there’s tension.”
She kicks at the comforter. “There’s no tension.”
“You’re lying through your teeth, Firecracker.”
A beat of silence. I hear her shift, feel the mattress dip slightly as she moves closer to the pillow wall.
“You really run hot or is that just an excuse to show off your abs?”
“Busted.”
She exhales what might be a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You always get flustered when you picture me naked? Or is that a new thing?”
A pillow thumps against my side. “Go to sleep, Huxley.”
I grin into the dark. “Not until you admit you’ve thought about it.”
She goes quiet for long enough that I think maybe I pushed too far. Then I hear her swallow.
“I hate you.”
“Sure you do.”
She shifts on the bed. “Hunter?”
I look over at her. She’s sleepy, which is adorable. “What is it, Monroe?”
“Thanks for this weekend.” Her lips pucker for a moment. “We didn’t have to come.”
Turning onto my side, I consider her words.
“I’m glad we’re here. It might be a shade awkward…” I motion to the wall of pillows between us. “But it’s nice to be… friendly. Friend-adjacent.”