Page 12 of Charm (Billionaire Buck Boys #7)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Holden

I finish the last bite of the banana foster pancakes in front of me. When I finally look up, Summer is staring at me with her top teeth raking over her bottom lip.

As she was preparing our breakfast, I made her another promise that I’d be honest in my rating of it. This food is off the fucking charts. If she’s not working in a restaurant kitchen at the moment, she needs to be.

“You outdid yourself. This was even better than the sandwich.” I push the plate aside and grab the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

I can take credit for that, but it’s only because Summer asked me to handle it. After watching her orgasm in the pool, I felt indebted to her. The look on her face as she came was filled with both wonder and pure vulnerability. Witnessing it was a gift. Playing a part in it was a true honor.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Joe.”

I swallow the orange juice in my mouth before I bark out a laugh. “Good to know.”

She drags her fork through a puddle of maple syrup on her plate. “You already knew that. Between your love of skinny dipping and your charm, you’re kind of irresistible.”

A slow smile spreads over my lips. “Am I?”

She stares at my face before her gaze wanders down my bare chest. “Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

My hand drops to the waistband of my jeans. After I kissed her senseless in the pool, I went home. That happened immediately after she came on my hand.

As we exited the pool, she glanced over her shoulder to tell me I should get dressed because there was a breakfast invitation with my name on it.

I would have been fine to eat in the nude, but I could tell she wanted a few minutes to collect herself, so I gave her almost thirty. I used the time to take a shower and put on the jeans.

When I came back here and knocked on the edge of the open sliding glass door that overlooks the pool, she greeted me in a pale blue off the shoulder dress. Her hair is in a ponytail. She looks fresh-faced and happy. Or at least I think that’s what happiness looks like on her.

“How often do you skinny dip in Mrs. Frye’s pool?” A light laugh accompanies the question.

“Rarely,” I answer honestly. “Yesterday was the first time I’ve ever been caught.”

Skepticism knits her brow as she considers my answer. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I accentuate each syllable. “I’m damn glad it was you who caught me and not Mrs. Frye.”

Her hand leaps to her mouth as she tries to conceal a laugh. “I think it would have made her day.”

“Just her day?” My arms cross my chest. “Not her week, or her month, or…”

“Her year?” she finishes what I started. “I can’t speak for her, but it certainly made my weekend a lot more interesting.”

“And climactic?” I ask with a wicked grin on my lips.

“Very climactic,” she agrees. “There have been so many climactic moments already.”

I want to add to that total. Witnessing her climax has fulfilled me in a way I’ve never experienced before. I want more of that. If I didn’t have to leave, I’d have her over my shoulder and headed to the bedroom right now.

“I want you,” I say, because it feels impossible not to express it vocally. “Now, obviously.”

Her gaze drops to my jeans again and the unmistakable bulge I’m not trying to hide. I’m semi-hard just from thinking about fucking her again. “I want you, too, Joe.”

Those words will have to sustain me until I can get my hands on her again. That can’t happen right now because I have to go home. Booking Martin for a last minute repair call isn’t easy, and I need to sort out the pool issue before I go back to Manhattan on Sunday.

She sighs heavily, which expresses exactly what I’m feeling. “I’d love to crawl back into bed with you, Joe, but I need to handle a few things this morning. I have to make some calls.”

I admit I’m curious about that, but this is a weekend fling. Details about her life back in the place she calls home don’t matter. “Understood. Martin is going to show up to fix my pool soon, so I need to head back.”

Her eyes light up. “The pump in your pool really is broken? You didn’t make that up?”

I slide off the stool I’ve been sitting on and walk toward where she’s standing. “Why the fuck would I make that up?”

The smile on my face draws one to hers as she shrugs a shoulder. “I assumed you just preferred the pool here, so you made up a story about your pump being broken.”

“I prefer mine. You will, too,” I tell her, knowing I want, no, I need to have this woman in my home, and in my bed.

“What’s so special about it?” She inches closer to me, tilting her chin up as if she’s offering herself to me for a kiss.

I make the move, cupping my hand over her cheek before lowering my mouth to hers. I part her lips with my tongue, tasting the sweetness of the maple syrup and her.

She smiles against my lips. “If your pool is as impressive as that kiss, I can’t wait to dive in.”

I lean back slightly so I can look into her eyes. I’m completely captivated by her. “Meet me there for a drink this afternoon.”

She nods slowly. “Around four?”

“Sure,” I say, even though that feels like an eternity from now.

Her fingertips tap dance over my bare shoulder. “Why do I get the feeling that bikinis are optional in your pool?”

“They are,” I answer swiftly. “Swimming trunks are, too.”

“They’re always optional in your world, aren’t they?”

I don’t bother telling her that I was behind on laundry when I arrived from New York City yesterday, so I tossed both pairs of board shorts I brought with me into the washing machine along with a handful of T-shirts and some boxer briefs.

It was a glaring reminder that I need to bring extra clothes with me on my next visit so I can leave them here.

I never imagined that during my brief swim, I’d be caught buck naked in Mrs. Frye’s pool. I’m glad I was, but swimming in the nude isn’t something I’ve done more than a handful of times in all of my thirty-three years.

“You’re not complaining, are you?” I answer her question with one of my own.

Her laughter fills the air around us. “You know I’m not. I’m all for you being naked as often as possible.”

“If I didn’t have to deal with Martin, I’d drop my jeans right now,” I tell her.

Her hands slide down my shoulders until they settle on my forearms. “Save that thought until later. I’ll be at your house at four o’clock sharp.”

“I’m counting on it,” I groan, frustrated that I have to wait hours to see her again. “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be,” she promises before she seals her lips over mine for a final kiss before I leave.