Chapter 31
Jonas
I don’t know what’s on Emma’s mind—once I’m upright again after what I will forever call the balloon mistake, she was busy running the baby shower, which I was forcefully invited to skip—but when she texts me and asks me to come over later that night, I don’t hesitate.
It’s already dark. I expect Bash is in bed, and when I follow Emma’s instructions and head around back instead of coming through the house, that’s confirmed.
She’s standing next to the hot tub in a one-piece swimsuit, lit by the glow of little fairy lamps around the fence. Steam lifts in wispy tendrils off the top of the hot tub, also glowing in the fairy lamp light.
As soon as she spots me, she puts a finger to her lips.
She’s absolutely, stunningly radiant tonight.
It’s the lighting, but it’s something else too.
Happiness .
That’s what it is.
It’s the smile illuminating her entire face. Her relaxed shoulders. The easy grace in her movements as she drapes two towels over the fence.
I walk quietly, my pulse drumming and my dick noticing just how very little material there is between her skin and the night air.
“Hi,” she whispers as I stop on the other side of the new gate.
I smile, then smile broader before I whisper a soft hi back. I want to hook my hand around the back of her neck and pull her close for a kiss. I want to stroke her bare skin. I want to strip her out of that swimsuit and explore every inch of her.
But not until she unequivocally tells me she’s ready.
Waiting for her to tell me she’s ready has been absolute torture.
“Want to try out the hot tub with me?” she whispers.
Oh, fuck yes .
Is that my shirt practically stripping itself off of me? I believe it is. “Yes.”
“The stars will be pretty tonight, and that was always my favorite thing about the old hot tub, but my text said it was undelivered when I told you to bring your swimsuit, and—oh. Okay, that works.”
I look down. The shadows and my black briefs are hiding my boner, but my thighs are glowing like there’s a blacklight aimed at their general pastiness. My pants, shoes, and socks are all in a pile together.
“Don’t ever have a stripping contest with a theater kid. We do quick-changes like nobody’s business.”
She laughs, pressing her fingers to her cheeks like she’s testing if they’re hot.
Turned on hot?
Or embarrassed hot?
Am I doing this all wrong again?
“Last one in—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Is on diaper duty all day tomorrow.”
She flashes an impish grin and leaves me in the dust, dashing the few steps to the new salt water hot tub, swinging a leg over, and climbing in.
As if I mind.
She’s just told me I get to spend the day with them tomorrow too.
Have to, if I’m on diaper duty.
Plus, I get to watch her face as she sinks into the warm water.
Her eyes slide closed, her breasts lift with a deep breath, and then she’s immersed all the way up to her neck, leaning her head back against the edge with a contented sigh. “Oh my god, I forgot how much I love this.”
I follow more slowly, not because I don’t want to dive in headfirst, but because I don’t want her spotting the reaction my body is having to her.
With any other woman, want to come in the hot tub with me? would be an invitation to screw around.
With Emma?
I don’t know yet.
“You like the jets or not?” I ask as I step in, angled to block her view of my excited dick.
Am I embarrassed?
No.
But I don’t want her thinking the only reason I’m here is to make out with a hot girl in a hot tub.
“ All of the jets, please, Mr. Why Buy A Hot Tub If You Don’t Get The Model With Jets Everywhere?”
Can’t resist smiling at that. And I smile broader when I glance back and catch her watching my ass.
I don’t call her on it.
I know she notices me noticing, because she jerks her gaze back up to my face, the color-changing fairy lights both inside the tub and around the fence hiding from me if she’s blushing.
“You don’t like people doing things for you,” I say instead.
“I don’t like feeling like I’m incompetent. Like I’m failing at this adulting thing.”
“You are not failing.”
“Hit the big button that looks like it could launch a spaceship into orbit, please. That’s the only hit this button if you’re sure you want to get a blast of water up all of your orifices button.
And shh . Bash sleeps like a drunk lumberjack once he’s out, but if we’re loud enough, he will wake up. ”
I try—and fail—to stop laughing. “You want something up all of your orifices?”
“I’m playing chicken with the jets. I think I’m safe. But half the thrill is in not knowing.”
“Emma Monroe, do your friends know you’re such a daredevil?”
“Quit stalling and hit the button.”
“As the lady wishes.”
Never let it be said that I don’t follow instructions. I hit the right button, and while the motors slowly whir to life, I slide the rest of the way into the steamy water, taking the indented seat next to Emma.
And hope I’ve positioned myself right too.
Might’ve gone overboard with the number of jets in this thing.
But I don’t normally buy off-the-shelf, delivered-in-two-days-because-it’s-the-floor-model-of-the-best-we-have-to-offer hot tubs.
Which is probably not the defense I’m pretending it is.
If we’d had three weeks, I could’ve had a mold taken of your body and made sure the jets were positioned correctly to massage you in all of the right places is more than likely overkill in her life.
As was this hot tub.
But if she’s letting me buy her something, she’s getting the best.
Plus, who would’ve believed her brother would’ve bought her anything less? We put his name all over the paperwork.
Emma’s grinning at me, looking more alive than I’ve seen her since Fiji. “How long do you think it’ll— urp !”
The jets explode to life, full-force, at least eight of them aimed at my back, six under my thighs, and two each behind my calves and under my heels.
I’m jolted forward, but Emma’s flat-out flung into the middle of the hot tub.
She goes under, and I don’t stop. Don’t think. Just act.
I lunge for her, getting pushed by the jets that seem to be coming from the middle of the water, and I grab her arm as she starts to surface.
“Are you—” I start, but I get a face full of her hair as she flings it backward.
She’s wheezing and coughing and laughing.
I swipe my face, still startled at the sting from the hair slap, my eyes wet with hot tub water.
“That’s—good,” she chokes out between coughs, which are between peals of laughter. “Really—strong.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Truly, I—Jonas? Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
“What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Too much beauty. I can’t look at you straight on without going blind.”
“ Jonas .”
“Just a little water.”
“Let me see.”
“I—”
She slides next to me, our bodies touching under the water, both of us on our knees. The jets are swirling the water hard enough that she uses my leg as leverage for hers, putting her pussy against my knee.
And then she touches my face, gently brushing water off my cheeks and eyelashes.
I blink my eyes open, knowing what I’m about to find, and still caught off-guard by how close she is.
Even with my blurred vision, I can make out the angles of her cheeks and jawline, that adorable nose, the plump lips and wide eyes. I blink again, and my vision starts to clear. My eyes still ache, but they’ll live.
Her light lashes are clumped together, some still holding droplets of water. Her hair’s slicked back, her ears more prominent, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Swear she is.
She’s just so Emma .
And I fucking adore that about her.
“Here. I’ll get you a towel.”
I grip her by the waist and shake my head. “Stay.”
Her hands still on my face, and she studies me like she’s trying to read between the letters of that one word.
“Stay.” I want to wrap my arms around her and drag her to me and kiss her until neither of us can breathe. I want—I just want . I want her . “It’s dangerous out there. Tidal wave might knock you over.”
Her fingers caress my cheeks. “You helped set up for my friends’ baby shower.”
“Had an extra set of lungs just sitting around, being useless otherwise.”
She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Just a little, but it’s there. Steam rises around us. The fairy lights shift from a soft blue to a soft purple.
“I was afraid you were here just for Bash,” she whispers. “That you were—that you were just being nice to me because we’re a package deal. That you left Fiji because I was getting too needy or clingy or?—”
My heart splits itself in two. “Emma. No. I left because the paparazzi were on the way. I didn’t—I should’ve left my phone number. I didn’t think of it until I was gone, and then—then I thought you were better off without me. It’s dumb. It’s a stupid excuse. I?—”
“I understand.” She’s stroking my cheeks, her gaze darting from my eyes to my lips and back to my eyes again.
I clear my throat. “If we’d met again under any other circumstance, I would’ve stayed just for you.”
She shakes her head.
I squeeze her waist and tug her close. “I missed you, but I didn’t think I was allowed to. I didn’t think I deserved to. But I did. I thought about you all the time.”
“Giving up your life for us—that’s massive .” It doesn’t matter how loudly the jets are humming, I hear her soft voice. “Are you sure you won’t regret it?”
“I get one life to make the most of. I don’t want to look back in fifty years and have you be my biggest regret. I want to look back in fifty years and know that we—that we lived our lives with love and laughter and joy.”
She bites her lower lip and watches me, not saying a word.
I’m nearly certain she’s still afraid. Afraid of the public attention I bring with me. Afraid I’ll have regrets. Afraid of what happened after her wedding happening all over again.
“That’s very brave of you,” she finally says.
Not mocking.
She’s completely earnest.
She knows what it’s like to have your life changed in an instant. Multiple times over.