Chapter 23
twenty-three
WEST
I hear her bare feet padding up the stairs, and have to restrain myself from following her.
I’ve absolutely no idea what she’s planning on doing up there for the next few minutes.
Eden is anything but predictable. To stop myself from striding out of the kitchen to follow her, I pull out my phone and shoot Bennett a text.
We’ll leave tomorrow at seven sharp. I’ll meet you outside by the car. Do not interrupt me or wake me up before then. – West
I don’t bother to check if he’s read it. I just don’t want to be interrupted if I decide to bury myself in Eden in the morning. And while I wait – because I’m really not a patient man – I pace the room.
What the hell is taking so long? For a second, I think about storming up there, but then I remember the tamales. The wine. The soft way she asked me questions. Like she was interested in me. Not judging me.
And I’m not used to that. I’m usually the one who storms in and puts everything back in order – by any means necessary – then walks out without looking back. Like Jack Reacher in a designer suit, minus the weapons knowledge.
Yeah, and he knows better than to fall for the girl.
But I’m not falling for her. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I’ve been around long enough to know what a shitshow that would be.
Not just because she’s Hudson’s baby sister – which, let’s be honest, is enough to get me publicly castrated – but because she’s too damn young for me.
Too bright. And completely idealistic. While I’m too set in the kind of life she’d run from if she really knew all of it.
I drag a hand through my hair, clench my fists. If she’s still shaving her legs, I swear to god—
Before I can storm up there and tell her I’d be happy navigating a forest of hair, a message appears on my phone.
I can hear your growling from here. Chill out. Another two minutes and you’ll get your surprise. – Eden
There’s no way you can hear me growling. These walls are sound proofed. Which is good, considering what I have planned for you tonight. – West
Promises promises. Two minutes, Captain Impatient. I promise I’ll be worth the wait. – Eden.
It takes another three before she sends a message telling me we’re good to go. And I swear I clear the stairs so fast I must look like a blur to the naked eye. When I push the bedroom door open with all the finesse of a man on the edge of sanity, I hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom.
“Eden?” I call out, because the bathroom door is still shut. “What’s going on?”
“I’m in here. Come in when you’re naked.”
I start to laugh. Well this is entirely unexpected. But I’ll do as I’m told, mostly because right now I’d do anything she told me to. And I’m not a man who’s afraid of being naked. I work out, I eat well. But still, I’m a little haphazard as I take off my jacket, shirt, then unfasten my belt.
“Actually, leave your pants on. I want to see you taking them off,” she shouts.
Shaking my head, I pull the belt from my pants, but leave them buttoned. Then I kick off my shoes and socks, because walking into the bathroom in three hundred dollars worth of calfskin leather feels wrong.
“I hope you’re naked at least,” I call out. Then I push the door open. And freeze in my tracks.
She’s drawn a bath. A deep, steaming one, surrounded by candles and rose petals, like we’re in a damn honeymoon suite.
And she’s standing beside it in one of my shirts, the buttons unfastened to reveal her perfect body, her skin glowing in the golden light, her cheeks flushed like she’s nervous and proud all at once.
“Welcome to your spa evening, Mr. Abbott,” she says, huskily. “Don’t move. Let me get you comfortable.” She steps forward, and I reach for her, curling my hand around her waist.
“Oh no,” she says, moving my hand, a wicked smile on her lips. “No touching the staff.” She leans forward, her lips brushing my ear. “I have to say that in case the boss is watching,” she whispers. “But if you play your cards right, a hot guy like you will get a very, very happy ending.”
She unfastens the button on my pants, her fingers feathering over the hard ridge of my cock.
“Oh my, that must be very uncomfortable, sir,” she says.
“Let’s see if we can do something to help you relax.
” She tugs at my zipper then pushes my pants down my hips.
Her breath hitches as I step out of the wool fabric, kicking the pants to the side.
Her eyes take me in, her lips parting as her gaze lingers on my face, my chest, then dips lower. “Oh my,” she murmurs, running her fingers along the waist of my shorts. “I’m not sure we’re used to that size of excitement in our spa.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t walk around in my shirt then. And nothing else.”
“Don’t you like?” she asks, twirling around so I get a three-sixty view, her hair shimmering in the candle light.
“I love,” I growl. “Let me touch you.”
A smile lights up her face. Such a good girl.
“No, sir.” She shakes her head. “Hmm, you really do need some relief here. So much tension.” She reaches for my shorts again, this time tugging them down, her knuckles brushing along my cock as it springs free.
She inhales sharply, her pupils dark and wide.
“Jesus,” she whispers, more to herself than me.
“Eden.” My voice is a warning.
“I’m just appreciating the spa guest,” she says innocently, running her hand up my thigh. “You seem tense. I think you need to get in the tub.”
“Then get in with me.”
She rolls to her tiptoes, running a single finger along my cock, her fingertip twirling around the thick head. She leans forward and kisses the corner of my lips and I let out a groan. “Get in the bath,” she murmurs. “You need to relax.”
I don’t point out that she’s the one making me all worked up. Instead I do as she tells me, stepping into the huge, steaming tub. There are petals everwhere, sticking to my skin, swirling around my body.
“Do women really like this?” I ask. It feels a little… messy.
She laughs. “It’s pretty. It makes us feel special. Don’t you want to feel special, West?”
My throat tightens. I don’t even know how to feel special. “Just get in with me.”
“Patience, baby.” She leans over me, grabbing a small bottle from the shelf. Something floral and expensive-looking.
“You’re going to wash me?” I ask, watching the sway of her breasts as she kneels at the edge of the tub.
“That was the plan.” She squeezes the liquid into her palm, rubbing her hands together until they glisten, then reaches for my shoulder. “You have to let go, West. That’s what baths are for.”
I let out a low groan as her hands slide over my chest, down my arms, massaging, teasing, exploring. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s on fire.
I’m not used to holding back. To not take what I want. My jaw tightens with the need to take control.
She leans in again, her lips brushing my temple. “See? Isn’t that nice?”
“Nice isn’t the word I’d use,” I murmur, reaching up and grabbing her wrist. “Get in. Now.”
She raises her brows, like she’s surprised by the edge in my voice. But her breathing hitches. She likes it. I can see it in the way her nipples tighten, in the flush that colors her cheeks.
“Bossy,” she says, smiling as she rises to her feet.
“Husbandy,” I reply. “There’s a difference.”
Her lips part, but before she can answer, I reach up and hook my hands behind her thighs, pulling her into the water with a splash.
She squeals, laughing as she lands on top of me, her legs straddling my hips, her bare skin sliding against mine.
The shirt she’s wearing is wet, the cotton clinging to her body.
And suddenly, I don’t feel tense at all.
I feel wild.
I’m so hard it’s almost painful. She’s light in my hands, even lighter thanks to the water, but I can still feel the warmth of her thighs on either side of mine, and that perfectly pink pussy barely skimming my cock.
“This is where I tell you that I’m clean and on birth control,” she tells me.
I blink. “Okay.”
She lifts her brows at me. “And you tell me the same.”
“I’m not on birth control,” I say slowly.
She rolls her eyes. “But I am clean.” I push the soaking shirt off her shoulders until it clings to her arms. I trail my fingers over her neck, her shoulders, the little dip at the base of her throat.
Her eyes don’t leave mine as I move my hands lower, tracing the swell of her breasts.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I tell her gruffly.
Her breath hitches as I cup her breasts with my hands, feeling her nipples pebble against my rough palms.
“Tell me what you were thinking,” she says, letting out another breath as I pinch her nipples hard.
I tug the shirt from her arms. I’m naked, I need my wife naked too. And damn, she’s so perfect I swear she belongs in a painting. All creamy skin and soft curves, her legs shaved and the rest of her, too.
“Did you do this for me?” I ask, running my hands over her silky calves. Because I’m a man, and I know freshly shaven skin when I feel it.
She gives me a sheepish smile. “I might have. This is a luxury spa, after all. We can’t have our VIP guests leaving with razor burn.”
I run my hands up the sides of her thighs, to her hips, curling my fingers around them.
“And since you were wondering, I’ve been thinking about this mouth.
” I kiss her softly. “About how good it felt last night. About how much I want to spend my night kissing it.” I brush my thumbs against her nipples.
“And about these. How pretty they are. So pink, so hard. For me.”
She lets out a sigh. “What else?”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” I murmur against her lips, letting my hand fall lower, between us.
She gasps as my fingers slide through the slick heat between her legs. “West.”
“Yeah.” I press a kiss beneath her ear, feel her hips shift against my hand. “This is what I’ve been thinking about. All damn day. You. Wet. Ready. Coming for me.”