seating with mission-style tables that you could set a drink or your feet on. The ceiling was dotted with recessed lighting, and Frank Lloyd Wright–inspired table lamps finished the room off, adding a golden glow.
A beautiful Navajo rug hung over the stone fireplace, and a larger version of the same rug covered the uneven, walnut hardwood floor. The walls were painted a rich maroon, and the windows were covered with blackout shades. Since the room faced due west, she figured they were a necessity if you wanted to watch TV in the late afternoon.
Fisher opened the French doors and stepped onto a deck sprinkled with clay pots overflowing with flowers and surrounded by gardens. He pulled off the cover of a large Jacuzzi hot tub that had to seat five or six adults. While he was busy, Jessie pulled off her T-shirt and running shorts. Heck, she had a sports bra and running underwear that covered her better than her racing bikini. She thought about soaking in her T-shirt and shorts, but she wasn’t about to sit on her leather car seats in chlorine-soaked clothes.
***
Fisher turned around to say something—what he couldn’t remember—when he saw Jessica wearing what looked like the world’s hottest bikini. Not that the suit was anything extraordinary, but the body it barely covered, well, that was an entirely different story. Jessica had a flat, firm, muscular torso and what looked like a very nice set of C-cup breasts. Her long, lean muscles were defined without being bulky. She looked one hundred percent female. She lifted her arms and showed off a set of guns Jillian Michaels would be jealous of. Raking her hands through her hair, she tied her ponytail into a knot at the top of her head, so that the ends fanned out and stuck straight up. She should look ridiculous, but it only made her look hotter. All his blood flowed south, and his mouth watered.
Jessica shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t want to get my shorts and T-shirt wet. It’s not as if I’m naked.”
Fisher saw naked women, or at least partially naked women, on a daily basis. Sure they were patients, but no one he’d ever seen, girlfriends, supermodels, or Playboy centerfolds when he was twelve, had the ability to throw him off his game before. Maybe it was because he hadn’t expected her to strip down like that. Or maybe it had been way too long since a woman undressed in front of him. Whatever the reason, it rendered him incapable of speech.
He pulled his shirt over his head, stalling for time and hoping to get the problem in his shorts under control. At least he was behind the hot tub. Of course he’d have to get into the damn tub too. He leaned over to adjust the jets and climbed in trying to ignore her, or at the very least, think of her like a patient. He’d never had this problem with a patient. Unfortunately, his dick knew Jessica wasn’t a patient, and if it had its way, she never would be.
He watched as she carefully climbed into the Jacuzzi. He could study the ripple of muscle over bone for an eternity, the way her ribs were defined when she bent over. The delineation of her spine as she stretched her back before sliding into the hot water made him want to run his hands over every bump and curve on her body. She moaned as she slid beneath the surface—the sound only added to his discomfort.
Jessica stayed on the opposite side of the tub, which was just fine with him. His mind was getting him into enough trouble without her being close enough to touch.
“God this feels like heaven.”
Inappropriate thoughts flew through his mind with the speed and clarity of fireworks, one more spectacular than the next, and he did his best to shut them down, or at the very least, ignore them.
Jessica laid back, closed her eyes, and soaked in the sun and the warm water. She hadn’t said anything, but then she was a woman of few words. He’d figured that out on their run. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and it was nice just soaking without
A beautiful Navajo rug hung over the stone fireplace, and a larger version of the same rug covered the uneven, walnut hardwood floor. The walls were painted a rich maroon, and the windows were covered with blackout shades. Since the room faced due west, she figured they were a necessity if you wanted to watch TV in the late afternoon.
Fisher opened the French doors and stepped onto a deck sprinkled with clay pots overflowing with flowers and surrounded by gardens. He pulled off the cover of a large Jacuzzi hot tub that had to seat five or six adults. While he was busy, Jessie pulled off her T-shirt and running shorts. Heck, she had a sports bra and running underwear that covered her better than her racing bikini. She thought about soaking in her T-shirt and shorts, but she wasn’t about to sit on her leather car seats in chlorine-soaked clothes.
***
Fisher turned around to say something—what he couldn’t remember—when he saw Jessica wearing what looked like the world’s hottest bikini. Not that the suit was anything extraordinary, but the body it barely covered, well, that was an entirely different story. Jessica had a flat, firm, muscular torso and what looked like a very nice set of C-cup breasts. Her long, lean muscles were defined without being bulky. She looked one hundred percent female. She lifted her arms and showed off a set of guns Jillian Michaels would be jealous of. Raking her hands through her hair, she tied her ponytail into a knot at the top of her head, so that the ends fanned out and stuck straight up. She should look ridiculous, but it only made her look hotter. All his blood flowed south, and his mouth watered.
Jessica shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t want to get my shorts and T-shirt wet. It’s not as if I’m naked.”
Fisher saw naked women, or at least partially naked women, on a daily basis. Sure they were patients, but no one he’d ever seen, girlfriends, supermodels, or Playboy centerfolds when he was twelve, had the ability to throw him off his game before. Maybe it was because he hadn’t expected her to strip down like that. Or maybe it had been way too long since a woman undressed in front of him. Whatever the reason, it rendered him incapable of speech.
He pulled his shirt over his head, stalling for time and hoping to get the problem in his shorts under control. At least he was behind the hot tub. Of course he’d have to get into the damn tub too. He leaned over to adjust the jets and climbed in trying to ignore her, or at the very least, think of her like a patient. He’d never had this problem with a patient. Unfortunately, his dick knew Jessica wasn’t a patient, and if it had its way, she never would be.
He watched as she carefully climbed into the Jacuzzi. He could study the ripple of muscle over bone for an eternity, the way her ribs were defined when she bent over. The delineation of her spine as she stretched her back before sliding into the hot water made him want to run his hands over every bump and curve on her body. She moaned as she slid beneath the surface—the sound only added to his discomfort.
Jessica stayed on the opposite side of the tub, which was just fine with him. His mind was getting him into enough trouble without her being close enough to touch.
“God this feels like heaven.”
Inappropriate thoughts flew through his mind with the speed and clarity of fireworks, one more spectacular than the next, and he did his best to shut them down, or at the very least, ignore them.
Jessica laid back, closed her eyes, and soaked in the sun and the warm water. She hadn’t said anything, but then she was a woman of few words. He’d figured that out on their run. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and it was nice just soaking without
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