Chapter 16
I'm giggling like a teenager as Spence lowers me onto his lap in the hot tub, steam curling around us like a private fog.
The jets bubble softly against my back, but it's his chest is solid and warm and still tense from what we just did in the pool.
Feels like I've tumbled into some holiday fever dream. Who knew self-defense lessons could end like that?
“Comfortable?” he asks, voice all gravel and satisfaction as he settles me between his spread thighs, my back to his front.
“Very.” I lean my head against his shoulder, letting the water lap at my shoulders. “Though I think you might have an ulterior motive for this position.”
His chuckle vibrates through me. “Multiple motives. All of them good.”
One of his arms bands around my waist, holding me close without crowding, while his free hand traces lazy patterns on my thigh under the water.
It's intimate, easy, like we've done this a hundred times. But the thrum in my veins reminds me it's brand new and addictive.
I twist to look up at him, water dripping from my lashes. “You know, I've been calling you Spence this whole time, but is that what you actually like?”
He goes still, fingers pausing on my skin. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. It feels... teammate-y. Like something one of your guys would yell across a room.”
A low laugh escapes him. “It is. Stuck from SEAL days. My full name's Spencer Saint McCallister, but I've never liked Spencer. Too stuffy. Saint was my callsign. It fit because I don't drink much, never chased tail. The guys thought it was hilarious.”
“Saint.” I test it out, letting it roll off my tongue. “Fits you. All noble and restrained.”
His eyes darken, hand tightening on my hip. “Not feeling very saintly right now.”
“Good.” I shift deliberately, feeling him harden against my back. “But what if I want to call you something just for us? Something personal.”
He nuzzles my neck, breath raspy against my ear. “Like what?”
I tap my chin dramatically, fighting a grin. “How about... sweetie pie?”
He groans, but it's laced with laughter. “When we’re alone, sure. With the guys? Absolutely not.”
“Snuggle bear?”
“Worse.”
I turn more fully in his arms, straddling his lap now, water sloshing around us.
Heavens, I love this view.
Adore the way the water darkens his hair, making his eyes even more powerful.
His hands immediately settle on my hips, thumbs stroking in that maddening way.
“Okay, fine. How about, sir?” I ask.
Heat flares in his eyes, and he pulls me closer, our bodies aligning in the bubbling water. “Careful with that one. Might get you in trouble.”
“Oh?” I arch a brow, trailing my fingers down his chest. “What about Daddy?”
He freezes, then bursts out laughing, a deep, genuine sound that echoes off the stone walls. “Jesus, Liberty. You're a tease.”
I can't help laughing too, the absurdity of it bubbling up like the hot tub jets around us. “What? Was it too much?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.” But his hands are roaming now, sliding up my sides, thumbs brushing under my breasts and there is no mistaking the way his body responds.
It’s a miracle his briefs can contain the thick erection pressed between us.
Spence’s gaze falls to my breasts, then climbs back up to my face. “If you keep saying it like that, I might develop a kink I didn't know I had.”
“Noted for later.” I lean in, brushing my lips against his jaw. “But seriously... what about calling you Saint.”
He goes quiet then, really quiet. The kind of silence that feels weighted, like the moment before a snowfall.
His arms tighten around me, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel his heart pounding steady and strong against my chest.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice thick.
“Saint,” I whisper it this time, right against his ear, and he shudders—like the word unlocked something deep inside him.
My throat tightens, emotion swelling unexpectedly and fiercely. This big, tough man, all scars and strength, melting for me.
Our connection is shifting, deepening faster than the waterfall cascading nearby. Not just heat and sparks, but something real. Vulnerable. Ours.
I cup his face, tracing the line of his jaw. “Saint,” I say again, softer, and he captures my mouth in a kiss that's equal parts tender and desperate.
When we break apart, it's hard to pull away, the moment feels so right. But when I meet his gaze, he searches my eyes. “Where do you want to live, Liberty? After all this. If you could pick anywhere, build a life, what would it look like?”
The question catches me off guard, but in the best way. He's not talking hypotheticals. This feels real... him picturing a future, with me in it.
I think about it, really think, while his fingers draw soothing circles on my back. “Somewhere quiet. Not too isolated, but with space to breathe. Maybe near Justice and Rosalie. A house with an enormous kitchen for baking ridiculous amounts of cookies. A yard for... I don't know, future things.”
His smile is slow, knowing. “Future things like what?”
“Kids, maybe. Someday.” Heat floods my cheeks, but I don't look away. “And where do you see yourself?”