Page 88 of Brooklynaire

We’re facing opposite directions, so it’s awkward as hell. But I don’t even care. I take greedy sip after greedy sip of her mouth, until she pulls back to stare at me. Her color is high and her eyes are bright and happy. “This is likeTwister.”

“It’s better,” I correct. Lady Gaga comes on, just as Becca said she would. “Are we getting into this pool orwhat?”

Becca kicks a foot in the water. “I’m tempted. But I don’t have a bathingsuit.”

“Oh,snap.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Are you really gettingin?”

“We don’t have to.” I’m never going to pressureher.

Her fingers trail across the surface of the bubbling water. “But this is an adventure,right?”

“Right.” I stand up and remove my socks. She’s watching me. And I can’t read her expression. “What?”

“Just wondering what else you’re going to take off.” Shesmiles.

“Come here.” The order rolls off mytongue.

But Rebecca doesn’t blink. She gets up and turns toward me, curiosity in hereyes.

“You tell me. What am I takingoff?”

She puts two hands tentatively on my chest, and I make myself be patient. Everything I ever wanted is on the other side of this moment. I just need us to break through this awkwardness—the “will we or won’t we”tension.

Her fingers find the top button of my shirt. “I’m not getting in the water unless youare.”

That’s a compromise I can live with. I find my lower shirt buttons and work upwards, until we meet in the middle. She pushes the two halves of my shirt apart and runs a hand down my barechest.

My inner caveman stands up andcheers.

I lean forward and kiss her jaw. She smells like flowers, and a bolt of pure lust races down my spine. One of my hands finds its way onto her lower back, and I whisper into her ear. “Undo my belt.” I punctuate this request with a kiss on herneck.

The hot tub jets are making the only noise in the room, but the inside of my head is as loud as a stadium concert. My pulse thumps like a bass guitar as her hands work open my belt. My heart beats out an eager rhythm as she unzips mytrousers.

Christ. Rebecca is undressing me. I may not surviveit.

I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss her palm. But it’s not enough. So I bury my face in her silky neck and kiss it again. Once.Twice.

Her hands shove my shirt off my shoulders. “You dressed up for dinner,” she whispers. “No hoodietonight?”

My mouth finds hers, because I can’t not kiss her. “There’s a different outfit I’d rather wear when I’m with you,” I mumble against her lips. My hands skim down the stretchy fabric of the dress she’s wearing, landing on herass.

I take it further, until I find the smooth skin of her thighs. And I hear her breathcatch.

“Can I take this off ofyou?”

“Yes,” shebreathes.

I lift the dress right over her head and toss it onto the chaise where my suit jacket waits. And then I get a look at the black lace she’s wearing and it almost kills me. “Jesus,” I breathe. The fabric is see-through, and there’s something wonderfully dirty about her rosy nipples so poorly concealed from my hungrygaze.

This is the second time I’ve been leveled by her choice of lingerie. If I’d had half a clue all these years that Becca favored sexy underwear, I don’t think I could have made it through the day at theoffice.

But she is oblivious to my pain. She reaches behind her body and unclips the bra, then tosses it aside while I practically swallow my tongue when her generous breasts are freed from theirbondage.

Or maybe she’s not actually oblivious, because then she turns around, showing me the back view of her almost naked body. With a saucy glimpse over her shoulder, she flicks her panties to the floor and then steps right over to the stairs leading into thepool.

Leaving me standing there in nothing but unzipped trousers, from which my aching cock is desperately trying toescape.