appealing indeed.
Smiling, I raise my eyebrows. “Are you naked?”
“Why don’t you come find out?” he suggests.
So I strip off my clothes and turn my ponytail into a bun. As I walk across the tiled floor, Slade watches me with open appreciation.
“How was your morning with Hawthorne?” he asks.
“Weird,” I say.
That makes him frown, and I struggle to put into words what was so uncomfortable about it. “I think Hawthorne and I need you two there,” I say. “Otherwise, it’s just awkward. I get pissy about him ordering me around, and he gets irritated.”
“We should have started you with Romeo,” he says. “But don’t be so sure that it was wasted time. Hawthorne knows what he’s doing.”
“If you say so.” As I slip into the hot, soothing water, I discover that he is most certainly naked. “Hawthorne kept telling me to ask for what I wanted,” I say.
“And you couldn’t?”
“I don’t know what I want. Other than the obvious. To be rid of my grandfather’s threats. To have my freedom. I haven’t thought beyond that.”
“And you explained all this to Hawthorne?”
“Well… no..”
Slade leans back against the rim of the hot tub and stretches his arms along the top. The flexing of his muscles mesmerizes me.
“My eyes are up here,” he says.
Blushing, I look up. “So they are.” Hazel eyes. Warm. Perceptive but not probing. “Tell me about Karen.”
His mouth closes, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. “She’s hardly a cipher,” he says.
“An ex?”
“Ex-fling.” He runs a hand over his dark hair, pushing the wet mass out of his face.
For any other man, that would be more than enough information, but instead my curiosity is even more piqued. “All of you?”
“Me and Romeo,” he says.
“Does Hawthorne know?”
Slade nods slowly. His gaze inches over my face. “You’re so beautiful like this, when you’re being yourself. I feel honored that you let your guard down with me.”
The unexpected compliment leaves me blinking. Slade moves across the churning water until he’s between my legs, and I remember my silly, comfortable fantasy about running away with him.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says.
“Sometimes I think it would be nice to disappear with you,” I say, the truth slipping out. As my words hang in the air, I’m so embarrassed that I can’t think of anything else to add.
“Sometimes? Are you thinking that now?” He sounds pleased. “I could have run away with you. We would have been happy, I think.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Any woman, I think, would be stunned to hear such words from a man as perfect as Slade. He’s sane (unlike Hawthorne), he’s got work-life boundaries (unlike Romeo), he’s gorgeous and rich and mind-blowingly amazing in bed.
But for me, it’s more than that. While my former friends were in high school and falling in love, I was in hiding. Slade’s words are a vote of confidence, one I’m not sure I deserve but will greedily accept nonetheless.
He brushes his lips against mine. “If only you’d come to me with that before you ran off,” he says. “But now… My best friends would never talk to me again.”
“I doubt they care that much,” I say.
“They do.” He kisses me again.
The timing seems perfect to ask for something. “What’s your secret, the one I was supposed to guess?”
“You haven’t figured it out?”
“Is it about my lingerie?”
“I love your lingerie, but that’s not it.” Grinning, he leans over to adjust the water temperature, and I watch the muscles in his back ripple.
“A hint would be appreciated,” I say as he slides back to where he was sitting before he kissed me.
“Ok. The first two words are ‘I’m falling.’ The last two words are ‘with you.’ Can you guess the middle two words?”
My eyes go wide. Slade pushes his dark hair away from his forehead, but wet strands immediately fall forward again. Drops of water cling to his
Smiling, I raise my eyebrows. “Are you naked?”
“Why don’t you come find out?” he suggests.
So I strip off my clothes and turn my ponytail into a bun. As I walk across the tiled floor, Slade watches me with open appreciation.
“How was your morning with Hawthorne?” he asks.
“Weird,” I say.
That makes him frown, and I struggle to put into words what was so uncomfortable about it. “I think Hawthorne and I need you two there,” I say. “Otherwise, it’s just awkward. I get pissy about him ordering me around, and he gets irritated.”
“We should have started you with Romeo,” he says. “But don’t be so sure that it was wasted time. Hawthorne knows what he’s doing.”
“If you say so.” As I slip into the hot, soothing water, I discover that he is most certainly naked. “Hawthorne kept telling me to ask for what I wanted,” I say.
“And you couldn’t?”
“I don’t know what I want. Other than the obvious. To be rid of my grandfather’s threats. To have my freedom. I haven’t thought beyond that.”
“And you explained all this to Hawthorne?”
“Well… no..”
Slade leans back against the rim of the hot tub and stretches his arms along the top. The flexing of his muscles mesmerizes me.
“My eyes are up here,” he says.
Blushing, I look up. “So they are.” Hazel eyes. Warm. Perceptive but not probing. “Tell me about Karen.”
His mouth closes, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. “She’s hardly a cipher,” he says.
“An ex?”
“Ex-fling.” He runs a hand over his dark hair, pushing the wet mass out of his face.
For any other man, that would be more than enough information, but instead my curiosity is even more piqued. “All of you?”
“Me and Romeo,” he says.
“Does Hawthorne know?”
Slade nods slowly. His gaze inches over my face. “You’re so beautiful like this, when you’re being yourself. I feel honored that you let your guard down with me.”
The unexpected compliment leaves me blinking. Slade moves across the churning water until he’s between my legs, and I remember my silly, comfortable fantasy about running away with him.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says.
“Sometimes I think it would be nice to disappear with you,” I say, the truth slipping out. As my words hang in the air, I’m so embarrassed that I can’t think of anything else to add.
“Sometimes? Are you thinking that now?” He sounds pleased. “I could have run away with you. We would have been happy, I think.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Any woman, I think, would be stunned to hear such words from a man as perfect as Slade. He’s sane (unlike Hawthorne), he’s got work-life boundaries (unlike Romeo), he’s gorgeous and rich and mind-blowingly amazing in bed.
But for me, it’s more than that. While my former friends were in high school and falling in love, I was in hiding. Slade’s words are a vote of confidence, one I’m not sure I deserve but will greedily accept nonetheless.
He brushes his lips against mine. “If only you’d come to me with that before you ran off,” he says. “But now… My best friends would never talk to me again.”
“I doubt they care that much,” I say.
“They do.” He kisses me again.
The timing seems perfect to ask for something. “What’s your secret, the one I was supposed to guess?”
“You haven’t figured it out?”
“Is it about my lingerie?”
“I love your lingerie, but that’s not it.” Grinning, he leans over to adjust the water temperature, and I watch the muscles in his back ripple.
“A hint would be appreciated,” I say as he slides back to where he was sitting before he kissed me.
“Ok. The first two words are ‘I’m falling.’ The last two words are ‘with you.’ Can you guess the middle two words?”
My eyes go wide. Slade pushes his dark hair away from his forehead, but wet strands immediately fall forward again. Drops of water cling to his
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