7. Alex
As the cool night air caresses my skin making goosebumps erupt along my arms, I carefully place two fresh glasses of wine on the smooth surface surrounding the sunken hot tub.
I make sure I space them near each other in hopes that Elijah will sit next to me. Is it a cheap move? Yes. But I want to see what he will do. I want to know if what I felt during our dinner together is real or if I’m making it up in my head because I want him to like me. Because I want him to show me what I think I already know: that he’s interested in me.
After the way he looked at me in the kitchen just now—and his over-gentlemanly and sweet actions since we’ve met—I think he is. I’m sure it’s weird for him that I’m his friend’s daughter. But again, like our age difference, I don’t see a problem with it. It’s not like I’d met Elijah before this. If anything, the fact he’s friends with my dad gives me a little bit of hope, because then maybe he’d like someone I dated.
I pick up one of the glasses of wine I just set down and take a sip. Why am I thinking about dating him? That’s insane. Certifiably insane.
I hear the sliding glass door open, and I turn to see the object of my thoughts standing there in all his half-naked glory. He’s in a pair of dark-blue swim trunks that almost look black in the porch light. They fit him like a glove, the edges tight enough that they accentuate the corded muscles of his thighs. But that’s not what catches my attention.
My mouth goes completely dry, all the moisture in my body going straight between my legs as I trail my eyes up the toned and tight muscles of his stomach. My gaze continues going up his happy trail to his taut chest with the smattering of dark and silver hair I saw peeking out of his shirt at dinner.
That is why you’re thinking of dating him, my brain says to me. I internally scold myself for being incredibly shallow. But I know his attractiveness is not the only thing drawing me to him; I feel a connection to him. How I told him about my life at dinner, how nice it was to do dishes together—it felt easy. Right.
Elijah closes the door and takes the few steps needed to get to me, his eyes dropping down my bikini-clad body so quickly I think he was hoping I’d miss it. I do a little cheer inside that he looked then add a point to the bank in my brain that says he’s attracted to me.
He smiles, gaze darting to my wine. “What did you choose this time?”
“Oh,” I say, trying to pull myself together. “It’s a merlot, single vineyard.”
He hums. “Notes?”
I take a sip and move it around my pallet. “Black plums, blueberries, dark chocolate…” I taste again. “And vanilla bean.”
His brows shoot up, and he nods his approval. “You know your wines like Oliver.”
“He taught me. We go to Napa every year together. It’s a thing of ours.”
“Oh, yes, I remember him saying something about that.”
I keep my focus locked on him, trying to get a read on if the mention of my dad made him uncomfortable like before. Thankfully, he seems fine. But I’m not going to test it further.
“Let’s get in; it’s a little chilly out here,” I say.
He holds out his hand, and I stare at it. “I don’t want you to slip as you get in.”
I press my lips together. “Such a gentleman.”
While I would be fine getting in myself, I hold my wine in my left hand and give him my right as I walk the few steps down into the heated water. His grip is strong, and I savor the brief contact before I let go to sit down. I lean back against a cluster of powerful jets and sigh in delight as Elijah joins me, sitting exactly where I had placed his wine. I do another little cheer and add one more point to the “like” side in my brain.
He takes his wine in hand and sips then swallows another one before putting it down. We’re sitting close enough that our thighs almost touch beneath the water, both facing the view of the lake. It’s too dark to see right now, but if we listen close enough, we can hear the lapping of waves against the shore over the sound of the jets.
“Nice, isn’t it?” I ask Elijah after a moment of silence.
“It is.” He leans back against the jets with a groan. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a hot tub.”
“Same. You should see the view during sunset. It’s beautiful.”
“I’m sure it is,” he says, staring at my face. The way he says it makes me think he’s not referring to the sunset. If I wasn’t already flushed from the hot water, I would blush more.
“So why did you need a break for the weekend?” I ask, not only to spark conversation but because I genuinely want to know.
“According to Oliver, I work too much.”
“Do you?” I ask.
He sinks further into stream of the jets, his broad shoulders relaxing into the water. The movement causes our thighs to make contact. My eyes widen at the feeling, but to my surprise, Elijah doesn’t try to pull away nor does he apologize. Another point.
“If you would’ve asked me that on my drive up here, I would have said no,” he muses.
“And now?”
He shifts, his muscular thigh sliding against mine. “I’m realizing that Mr. Serious has been out to play for far too long.”
My entire body feels as if it’s been covered in popping candy. My skin zips and tingles, and my thighs press together as another tiny bolt of lightning strikes me between my legs. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I shift so I’m turned toward him and rest my hand on the top of his thigh beneath the water.
Elijah doesn’t flinch at my touch. Instead, he holds eye contact like he does every time we speak. But this time, it’s different, darker. Even in the dim light, I can see the desire in his eyes. There’s no denying he wants me, too.
“Alex,” he says headily, “this is a bad idea.” But nothing in his tone or body language says this is bad at all.
“What if I like bad ideas?” I ask teasingly, gently sliding my hand up his thigh. I only stop when my fingers meet the outline of his very prominent erection.
Elijah curses under his breath, but he still doesn’t pull away. Instead, his body slips down the hot tub wall so my palm now rests over the very large bulge beneath his swim trunks. I internally pat myself on the back for correctly guessing that this man, in fact, does have a big dick to go with his BDE.
“Alex,” he sighs, his voice almost pained.
I cup him then gently squeeze until he groans. “How long has it been since someone’s touched you, Elijah?”
He swallows, a long moment passing before he says, “A long time.”
I gently grip him again so his eyes roll in the back of his head. “How long?”
“Two years,” chokes out.
I try to keep the shock off my face. A man like him hasn’t had anyone touch him in two years? I find it hard to believe, but I don’t think he’s lying. He has no reason to.
I stroke my hand up his clothing-covered cock, brushing my thumb over the thick crown of it. “Can I make you feel good, Elijah?” I rub my own thighs together at the thought of being the first one to touch him in so long, to take him in my mouth and watch this serious, beautiful man come apart for me. To have him grab my hair and use me how he wants.
The filthy images continue to pile on as I wait for an answer. I move closer to his body, the pressure from my hand on his cock increasing as I slide the tops of my wet breasts against his arm.
“Please,” I purr into his ear, rubbing my nose along the shell of it. His cock jumps beneath my hand, and I bite down on his earlobe. It may be excessive, but I feel like a woman driven by pure aching need for him. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
“I’m going to hell,” he groans, “but god help me, yes.” His blown-out pupils connect with mine as he says it. “Take care of me, Alex.”
That’s all I need to close the distance between us, my lips sealing over his in a burning kiss. If he’s going to hell, then I’m going to hell with him.