Chapter 24
AL FRESCO DINING
SKYLAR
I dip a toe in the bubbling warm water while Simon watches me with avid eyes from the floor of the deck—upper deck, really.
“I’m surprised you let him into your home,” I say.
“Yeah, me too,” Ford says, then shoots me a stern look. “He’d better not try a thing.”
“I know, I know,” I say, but so far, so good.
Simon’s been a gentleman, maybe because we walked both our dogs when we returned home. Mine trotted the entire way, burning off his humping energy. Nearly killed me with his enthusiasm, but I’d switched from heels to flip-flops, so I was at least able to try to keep up.
Zamboni’s watching us too, albeit from the other side of the hot tub, keeping her eye on the humper. Smart girl.
The water’s nice and toasty as I step into the jacuzzi in my orange polka-dot bikini that Ford can’t stop looking at me in.
I sink down into the welcoming tub, letting the water kiss my skin.
I can’t complain about Ford’s hot tub attire—black swim shorts that give me a view of the ladder of his abs, the breadth of his chest, the strength of his arms.
It’s a good sight.
After he sets down an ice bucket with the bottle of champagne and two glasses on the edge of the tub, he sinks into the water too. As his abs disappear, I pout.
“What’s that for?” he asks.
“I was enjoying the view of Commitment and Discipline.”
His brow knits. “I thought it was Focus and Dedication?”
I shake my head. “Those are your biceps. I named your abs too.”
A smile tips his lips. “Right. I nearly forgot,” he says, then holds my gaze for a confident beat as the water gurgles around us. “Which means it’s about time we talk about Sexy Reno Guy.”
I knew this was coming. I’m glad he’s not mad though. “Champagne first,” I say.
He grabs the champagne from the ice bucket, then, as he holds the bottle above the water, he shoots me a panty-melting look—one that says he knows where my eyes will be.
On him. After he removes the foil, he drapes a linen napkin over the neck.
Holding the cork and cage, Ford slowly twists the bottle.
“Gotta release the pressure gradually,” he says, in a smooth voice that’s making me think about other kinds of pressure.
Naturally.
That’s what he wants me to think about as he unscrews the cage but doesn’t remove it.
With the napkin-covered cork and cage in one hand, he slides his other hand around the base, taking his sweet time and reigniting memories of how good he is with those fingers.
Beads of condensation line his ropy forearms. Drops of water slide down his chest. I stare at his hands, a little shamelessly.
Oh, who am I kidding? I stare a lot shamelessly as he points the bottle toward the yard, and away from us and the dogs, twisting the bottle until the cork falls with a soft pop.
It lands in the napkin.
It’s not theatrical, but it ensures no dog freaks out from the noise. And my heart thumps harder because of that.
I fight off all the smiles as he sets down the napkin and the cork, then pours and offers me a glass. I take it, stealing a glance at Simon as I do. He’s now settled on the wooden deck, resting in the night air. Zamboni’s watching us, but her eyes start to float closed.
I’m wide awake. I feel as bubbly as the hot tub. As full of anticipation as the corked bottle moments ago.
Ford lifts the flute, his brows arching up. “A toast.”
“To living well?”
He smirks. “Yes. And to your podcast.”
And here we go. “To my podcast.”
He clinks his glass to mine, and I feel glowy and warm from both the temperature and his heated gaze. I watch him as he takes a drink. I do the same, then he sets down his glass. Slides closer on the bench, but not close enough.
My skin prickles and I want more. So much more than I should want, but I can’t think about shoulds and risks anymore.
I left those behind at the board game store when Ford bestowed a fake kiss on me that wasn’t fake at all.
When he spun tall tales about us that felt entirely true.
When he had a blast rubbing in our happiness.
Most of all, I suppose I left the risks behind when he asked me on yet another date. Another fake one, yes. But a date, nonetheless.
He’s all darkened gaze and raspy voice as he says, “So, I’m Sexy Reno Guy?”
Damn, this man really likes foreplay. I’m all wet and I am wet. “Well, I named your muscles. Is this really a surprise you have a nickname too?”
A small laugh falls from his lips, then it fades. He’s a man on a mission. “What did you say about me on your podcast, Skylar? Tell the truth.”
It’s hardly a question. It’s more of an invitation to…confess.
My breath comes faster. My chest rises and falls. And I’m heating up so fast from his hungry stare. “That I’d been checking you out,” I admit.
“For how long?”
“A long time,” I say, my insides flipping from his stare.
“When, Skylar?” he presses.
His intensity is such a turn-on. My thighs clench as I part my lips and whisper, “Since the first day.”
His smirk is so pleased. He slides an arm across the back of the hot tub, closer to me. An excited breath coasts past my lips. My arm aches for him to touch me. Just to run a finger down my wet skin. Even though I want so much more than that.
“The day we met?” he asks, his voice low and smoky as he toys with me, like he wants to hear me admit every detail.
“Yes.”
His dimple flashes. The bubbles brush against my thigh as he leans closer to me, dipping his face so I almost, almost think he’s going to kiss me senseless in the hot tub.
But instead, he reaches for his drink. Takes his time lifting the glass. Swallows some champagne. Leaves me wanting even more. I’m aching everywhere for my next-door neighbor.
When he sets down his glass, he nods to mine. “You’ve barely touched yours, Skylar.”
Because I’m too distracted by the way this man moves. “Your fault.”
A tilt of his head. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’ve been staring at me the whole time.”
His lips twitch, but he still doesn’t move any closer. “How was I staring at you?”
This man. He’s making me work for it, the sexy jerk. But two can play this game. I sit up straighter, so my breasts rise above the water.
His breath hitches. A rumble that drifts across the steamy air.
Well, I guess I’m doing this foreplay thing too.
I rest my elbows on the edge of the hot tub, knowing the move draws even more attention to my tits. With a sensual sigh, I raise a hand from the bubbles and slide it through some strands of hair, making them wet.
I stretch my neck to the side, exposing more of my collarbone—the place he’s obsessed with. Finally, I meet his eyes again and answer his question. “You were staring like you wanted to eat me up.”
His blue eyes turn to flames, a flare against the night. His shoulders bunch. He’s holding back, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because he likes to play games with me. Reaching for my glass, he commands, “Take a sip, Skylar.”
I’m curious where he’s going, so I take the flute, but he wraps his hand around mine. “And you should know I plan to kiss it off you.” I shudder as he pauses, then adds even more seductively, “Everywhere.”
Sign me up.
I lift the flute with excited fingers, holding it tightly so it doesn’t slip out of my eager hands. I take a drink, my mind racing with wonderfully lurid images of this man devouring me.
He moves so quickly, I can barely catalogue how it happens. The images are no longer pictures. They’re reality.
I place the glass on the edge of the hot tub. His lips keep crashing down on mine, and I’m moaning into his mouth. Water sloshes around us, bubbles licking my shoulders as Ford claims my mouth in a searing kiss.
Curling around my head, his fingers scrape through my hair as he tugs me close, his lips exploring mine.
My lips part for his, inviting more of these deep, hungry kisses.
He sucks on the tip of my tongue, nips on the corner of my lips, tilts my head back.
Like he needs more of everything—more of me.
I’m dissolving into this kiss. The steam from the hot tub mingles with the heat between us and I’m not sure what’s warmer—the water or the need coursing through my body.
My pulse is shooting to the sky, beating between my legs.
He slows the kiss, skates his mouth along my neck till I’m boneless and mindless with want. Then his lips travel to my ear, where he whispers, “You taste better than I imagined. But I really need to be sure.”
My mind pops with questions like What do you mean?
But the answer comes in his hands roaming down my body, along my arms to my waist. Lighting me up with every touch till they settle on my hips.
With a cocky grin, he lifts me up and sets me on the edge of the hot tub, my calves and feet still in the water, the rest of me exposed.
Awareness hits me right as he settles between my legs on the bench, spreading them apart. Sliding his hands up my slick thighs, he parts my legs wider. The look in his eyes is mischievous and molten. And I think…I’ve met my match.
But thoughts break apart as Ford brushes his mouth along my inner thigh, roaming those lush, hungry lips higher and higher still.
It’s in the sixties, so it’s not cold, but it’s not summery at night either.
Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I’m not sure if it’s from the evening air or the sensations whipping through my body.
But when he reaches the apex of my thighs, heat blazes through me.
He kisses the wet panel of my bikini and I gasp.
Simon lifts his snout.
“I’m fine, honey,” I reassure him.
Ford laughs against my center. “You call your dog honey.”
“Of course I do,” I say, then curl a hand around Ford’s head, shooting him a fierce stare. “Stop talking and get back to work.”
“If you insist,” he murmurs, giving me another kiss right where I want him.
My bathing suit is slick from the hot tub. But that hardly matters. He yanks the material to the side, and presses a slow, sensual kiss to my clit.
I’m panting, grabbing his head, rocking against him in no time.
He groans low in his throat, a sound that vibrates against me. I can feel the sound as he flicks his tongue through my wetness. My toes curl in the water. Wrapping my feet around his back, I tug him closer, grip his hair harder, roping my fingers through all those thick, damp strands. Needing more.
He stops for a second. “It’ll be easier like this,” he says, then maneuvers my wet bikini bottoms off me.
I’ve never been happier to be half-naked than I am right now.
His breathing is ragged and carnal as he eats me on the edge of his hot tub. My nipples are pebbling in my damp bikini top. I let my head fall back, giving into the pleasure as Ford licks and sucks me voraciously. Jets of water froth around us, fizzing against my legs.
Sparks fly under my skin, all through my cells, then they speed up when he flicks his tongue in a long tantalizing line down, then back up. When he sucks my clit into his mouth again, I am lost.
Loud too.
I don’t know when I started, but I’m moaning his name over and over. Both dogs notice, watching like little horndogs. But I don’t bother correcting mine. I’m too far gone from my neighbor’s mouth owning my pleasure to even think about saying down, boy.
Ford’s groans are addictive as he eats me. They mingle with mine, a new chorus of need and want. Soon, I’m gripping his head harder; he’s swirling his tongue faster. I’m raking my nails through his hair. He’s digging his fingers into my flesh. And we are communicating without words.
With just all this pent-up desire.
That spirals higher.
That spins faster.
That takes over my body and mind. Bliss coils in my belly, then spreads like a pinwheel. And in seconds, I’m falling over the edge.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I’m chanting as his hungry lips and talented tongue work me over to the other side.
Pleasure bursts inside me, bright and strong.
And so damn loud that I briefly wonder if other neighbors hear the two of us. But I can’t hold on to thoughts long enough to care. A minute later, maybe more, I blink open my eyes.
One very smug man is gently kissing my legs, running his hands soothingly along my calves. Two dogs are standing on their back feet, wagging tails, asking with big eyes if I’m okay.
“I’m very okay,” I tell Simon, and Zamboni too.
Ford laughs, then dips his face and bites my thigh.
“Ouch,” I yelp.
He lets go, looking unrepentant. “Yeah, you taste better than I’d dreamed.” He rises up in the hot tub, shorts tented gloriously. And, well, pointedly.
“I want that,” I say, gesturing to his enormous erection.
“Good. Because. I really need to fuck you, Skylar. So get naked and get inside.”
I shiver in excitement. “But not in that order?”
That earns me a swat on my thigh. “Inside. Now. I have plans for you.”
I swing my legs out of the tub, grab a towel, and knock back some champagne. “What are they?” I ask, with more excitement than I feel when I spot the perfect vintage dress in my size.
“You’re about to find out.”
He drops his shorts, and now I want him more than anyone has ever wanted a thrift store treasure.