Chapter 16
16
Laird
“What is it about hot tubs?” Poppy looks at me, leaving the question hanging between us, and takes another sip of whiskey.
That makes you so goddamn beautiful I need to catch my breath every time you aren’t looking.
Making me wish I could fuck you in the fresh air and heated water, leaving your body replete to the point of having to carry you back into the house with your head on my shoulder and my heart in your hands.
That has me missing the opportunity to bring you to Deer Lake under different circumstances, like being my wife.
I’d like to finish that question a few different ways, but instead of inserting my desires, I give her the time to do it herself.
With steam rising between us, she waves her arms over the top of the water, her happiness transparent in her stunning features as she tilts her head and smiles at me. “You get in barely clothed, in my case even less since I didn’t come prepared with a swimsuit, get overheated, and then you want to strip off the rest.” With laughter that a good buzz brings, she adds, “Do you mind?”
It was smart to put the spa on its own generator and solar panel. It was starting to get cold in the house with no electricity, but the hot tub is in solid working condition, much to my advantage, like the whiskey, at this current moment. Based on our rough start yesterday, I couldn’t have predicted this is where we’d end up, but here we are. “Do whatever makes you more comfortable.” I mean, come on. Am I really going to talk her out of taking that bra and thong off?
No. I never claimed to be a gentleman.
With her hair stacked on her head, some wayward strands sticking to her neck, dots of black makeup blurring into gray under her eyes, and her lips pouty and wet, she’s making it fucking hard to resist kissing her. But I will until she’s ready.
Reaching around her back, she unclasps the white lace bra that wasn’t hiding much anyway and frees her body from the confines. The tops of her tits mound above water when she sits back again. “Mmm, so good,” she moans with her eyes closed.
It’s hard not to stare. They’re perfect, like she is. I remember how divine they felt to squeeze and fuck back in Austin. Now, it’s torture to keep my distance.
But her tits aren’t the only thing teasing me. I’m desperate to see all of her. Does she still have our tattoo, or did she have it removed?
I’ve been trying to keep my head above water, but it’s tempting to dive under and steal a peek. We’ve been dancing around our mutual attraction since the living room. Throw in the whiskey, and she’s become a lot more obvious .
Watching her as she empties the last of her glass, I remember getting drunk with her was an aphrodisiac. We fucked so good and loved so hard that night.
I’ll never forget it.
She tasted like heaven and beer.
I’ll never forget her.
Whether it’s the alcohol or the night, the world gone quiet from no electricity, or us more in tune to each other through our history, we’re bordering lines we may not be able to come back from if we cross.
While the moon and the stars fight against the coverage of the treetops to light the area for us, enough blue light comes from the base of the hot tub to see clearly. I can make out that her cheeks are as rosy as her lips and the gold sparkles more dominantly in her eyes.
Her smile is contagious and her laughter more so when she says, “I’m hot.”
“You are,” I say, wishing I hadn’t right after, but maybe the whiskey is sinking in. My bet is that it’s my heart calling the shots. And fuck, just look at her.
“You think so?”
Fuck me, this is how I go. Found dead in a hot tub.
Those hazels are latched to me like I’m her only source of oxygen. I run my wet hand through my hair, redirecting my eyes to the water in front of me . Throw her off the scent, Faris. “Of course. Who wouldn’t?”
She smiles and then slips to the side, bringing her just a little closer. I slide away, needing to keep the space between us. Her tits are so close to bobbing above the water that it’s hard not to watch, so I can have them in proximity and expect to keep my wits about me. “Well,” she says, her gaze dipping to my chest. “I’m sure women fall all over you.” I grin, not opposed to the honesty the alcohol has allowed to flow. “Do they fall all over you?”
I can’t talk about groupies without giving away who I am, and it feels like I’m breaching a warning regarding her memory coming back naturally. It would also change our dynamic. She’d see me as nothing more than my image instead of who I actually am.
Do I talk about the fans that line the street outside the hotel to get a piece of me—a glimpse, a photo, an autograph?
Or is it safest to keep it under lock and key and play the role as the tech millionaire she already thinks I am?
“I don’t date much.” True. Vague. Simple. I rub my eyes, conflicted and imagining the best-case scenario instead of doomsday. Would sharing more of myself fall under the gentle reminder option? I open my eyes to find her staring at me. “What an interesting way to say that women find me drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I . . . um.” While I fixate on finding the best response, she’s moved on or at least her eyes have.
Her gaze slides down my chest like a droplet of water. I don’t mind the distraction because the only thing I can imagine is kissing her luscious lips.
She moves around, closer again, but this time, I stay, wanting her near. Naked . . . oh fuck. Our knees bump, and she’s right there next to me. When I release a rush of air, the chill hits my wet skin, making me feel alive again.
I dare to look at her, not a glance or a glimpse, but straight, wanting to see her face and read the emotions and thoughts she parades in her eyes. There will never be a time I don’t find her breathtakingly stunning. I’m fucking hard for her, so hard that if she gets closer, my trunks won’t be able to hide my erection. “What are you doing, Poppy? ”
“There are two things I can’t stop thinking about.”
Oh shit.
My heart starts beating as if it’s overcome the impossible and been revived in anticipation. And just to be showy, it races. That’s what she does to me. She brings me to life.
“What?” I dare to ask.
She touches my chest and says, “I’m so curious about this tattoo.”
Shit.
“What about it?” I know she can feel my damn heart thumping since her finger is still pressed to it.
She sits back, anchoring her elbow to the side and resting her head on her hand. “What does it mean? I have so many questions. Why did you get it? Where did you get it?”
“Most people are more interested in the guitars.” I rub my side over both, one a newer addition since she last saw me.
Dipping into the middle of the spa, she plants her hands on my legs, causing me to tilt my head back and pray she won’t move them any higher. Her fucking around down there will lead to her finding out how I really feel about her.
I scrub a hand over my mouth, thinking of anything to take this bad boy down. Catching a glimpse beneath the frugal froth that remains does not do the trick. Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck.”
Her hands fly free of my legs, her eyes wide and startled. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Don’t be.” I clock the rusting grill off to my right, but with her so close, nothing is doing the trick. I can’t fight this anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t care. I fucking can’t hide how turned on I am, so I don’t. “I liked it.”
“You liked . . .?” It dawns on her just as she speaks. A smile covers her pretty face, and she whispers, “I liked it, too.”
When she moves in this time, it’s not just her hands. It’s her whole body. She straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck. More than two years of pain is pushed away in her arms, the answers I never had, the assumption she didn’t love me plaguing me. All of it is gone the moment she puts her arms around me again.
“If my grump of a bear boss finds out about this, he’ll fire me.”
The way she holds eye contact with such authority is such a fucking turn-on. I slide my hands around her, dragging them slowly from the curve of her waist and lower to her ass and hold her in place. “Then we won’t tell him.” I kiss her. I kiss her, sliding her right where I want her.
Freeing one hand, I caress her cheek and hold the edge of her jaw as water splashes around us. She rips her lips from mine and breathlessly whispers, “What are we doing?”
I search her eyes for what’s wrong but find nothing discernible. Running my fingers over her cheek, I have the opportunity to memorize every new freckle, the gentle creases formed at the corners of her eyes, and the way her lips swell when kissed. The honor to worship her again won’t be in vain. “What feels right.”
“It does feel right.” I barely catch sight of her smile before it crashes into mine, and she’s stealing my breath again. Her hands are desperate as they weave through my hair, tugging the roots and jabbing her elbows into my arms. Searching for a way to anchor herself, she holds me tight instead. This time, I lean back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay.” She nods. “I’ll calm down. It’s just been a long time.”
I cup her face, holding her so her eyes look straight into mine. “I don’t want you to calm down. I want you to feel everything as loud as you want, to take what you need, to live and laugh like you used to. Poppy, God, you’re so fucking fantastic.” I kiss her so wholly that my soul feels the embrace.
There’s no patience in the reunion. Our lips part, our tongues twisting together before I have a chance to come to my senses. We’re doing what feels good, what feels right. Is this my second chance?
While her nipples press to my chest, the tips rubbing over the tattoo we share—please let it still be there—I slide one hand around the small of her back and take command of one of her tits with the other. I squeeze the handful and rub the peak with my thumb before flicking it.
A moan escapes as she grinds on top of me, her head dipping back and her lips wide open. Lowering my hand, I get a good grip of her ass, though that mouth is always a delicious distraction. Encouraging every grind and slide over my length, I kiss her neck and shoulder, letting her fuck me through my shorts. “It’s been so long, babe,” I groan, pressing my mouth to her skin just to taste it. “For me too.”
“Touch me, Laird,” she murmurs against my ear and then nibbles my lobe. Leveraging my shoulders, she lifts and lowers, rubbing herself against my hard dick. “Please.”
I want to come so hard inside her, but if she keeps this up, I’m not making it out of the hot tub. Fuck. Shifting, I slide my hand around her hip, pushing my thoughts away from my own pleasure to focus on hers. I lean back to hook her attention onto me. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”
Her panting breaths come steady, but her eyes are wild with the possibility. Her thighs are so smooth, the water making the tips of my fingers glide right where I want them. She made me hide my eyes while she slipped into the spa, so I didn’t get a good look at her thong. Cotton barely covers her, but I run my knuckle along the crease of her leg and over the wet softness of one of her lower lips.
She kisses me once and then again as I toy with her, teasing until she grinds again. Moaning into my mouth, I swallow it down, then kiss her right back. My fingers nudge and then find purchase against her clit.
“ Ohh ,” she says, dropping her head as she gets lost in the intimacy, the ecstasy of being together. I remember how to make her come. I remember the face she makes when she falls apart. I remember all of it, but I need to see her do it again for me.
I slip the tip of my finger inside her tightness, circling her sweet clit with another. I can’t ignore the ache that I feel from wanting my own happy ending. Not yet.
She rides up and sinks down, engulfing my finger and fucking me like I want her to. “Do you like that? Does that feel good?”
“So good.” She can’t keep her eyes open for more than a few seconds, the pleasure taking over every part of her soul to claim it as its own.
She’s too close to go into the house, to lay her down on the island and eat her out. So I increase the pressure, diving my finger deep into where I want my dick and wanting to nip at her bud. But every time she thrusts down, I get closer to getting off with her.
When her eyes latch onto mine, she cries, “Oh my God. Oh God. Yes. Yes.” Her breath chokes in her throat as her head dips to my shoulder. Her body trembles on top of me, and then she moans, “ Ahhh .”
My dick jerks from the moans in my ears as she rides me through her tremors . . . “Ah, fuck.” My body sends me into the deep end, my mind traveling through the rush of an orgasm. I pump and thrust and release just as she wraps her arms around me.
We both are too caught up to breathe normally. With her holding me like she loves me, I wrap my arms around her, never wanting this to end. When my heart returns to its regular beat, I turn to kiss her neck, behind her earlobe, and under her jaw. The corner of her mouth is especially delectable, but it’s when I reach her ear that I whisper, “I’m definitely writing you up for that.”
Her laughter fills the freezing night air, and she tilts back, her breasts bare before me and an expression I remember like it was yesterday set on her face—love in the aftermath.
I fall in love with Poppy all over again.