Page 97 of The Christmas Trap

31

Lark

I step onto the deck and shuffle my feet in the fluffy slippers I found in the closet. By the time I’d changed my clothes and freshened up, not only had Brody brought up our luggage but he’d also managed to change his clothes and head down.

The steam rising from the hot tub is enticing. Though the man whose face and shoulders I can see above the bubbles is even more so. He’s spread his sculpted arms over the rim of the hot tub. The bulges of his biceps and the length of his thick fingers do funny things to my insides. His thick hair ruffles in the breeze.

Goosebumps pepper my skin. It must be because I’m cold. It has nothing to do with how turned on I am by the sight of my gorgeous and very handsome husband waiting for me in the hot tub.

"You coming in? Or are you going to stand there staring at me?" He smirks.

The sight of his naked torso disappearing into the water affects me.

I bet I can affect him, too.

Chin up in the air, I head toward the opposite side from him. Then, placing my phone down on the deck chair, I untie the belt of my robe. It gapes at the lapels revealing my cleavage.

He stills. Arrested by the sight of my skin, his gaze rapt.

I raise one shoulder, and it slips down my arm. Then I straighten both arms, and it slithers down first one arm, then the other. The robe stops, arrested by my elbows.

He swallows. I swear, I can see the pulse at the base of his throat beat harder.

Then, with a whisper, the robe slides to the floor and pools around my ankles.

His fingers tighten around the raised lip of the hot tub. Good. And when I kick aside my fluffy slippers and step forward, his chest rises and falls. Yes! He’s told me that he finds me attractive. But to see him as affected by the sight of my body as I am by his feels inevitable.

He watches me with a predatory gaze that turns my blood to lava. My heart feels like a hummingbird trapped inside my rib cage. I approach the hot tub and step inside. The hot water instantly pulses heat under my skin, and when I sink down under the bubbles, my entire being feels light. My muscles unwind. Even as I’m so conscious that his gaze is fixed on my chest.

"Take off your bikini top."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He leans back with that lazy stance of a lion watching his prey.

He’s going to strike, but only after he’s played with me a while.

"Off. With. It."

His voice brooks instant compliance. Which is why I find myself reaching up to undo the knot around my neck. The straps fall to the sides, held up by the curves of my breasts.

"Don’t stop." His voice is gritty and strained, revealing how turned on he is. It also gives me the courage to reach behind myself with trembling fingers and flick the hooks holding the top up.

My bikini top falls into the water.

I’m bared. My breasts exposed and, likely, bobbing on the surface.

"Squeeze your nipples," he growls.

Oh my God. That’s so hot. Why do I find it hot?

His biceps bulge. The tendons on his neck stand out in relief. Sweat pops on my brow. It’s not just the heat of the water but also that being generated between us. As if in a dream, I reach for my nipple and pluck on it. A moan spills from my lips. It feels filthy to my ears.

"Now the other one." His jaw tightens.

I raise my other hand, tending to my other nipple. Electric currents shoot out from the point of contact. I stretch my neck, leaning my head back against the edge of the hot tub. Closing my eyes, I continue to squeeze and massage my breasts. The pinpricks of pleasure build into waves which lap against my subconscious mind. I’m sinking into a quagmire of need. Of want. The emptiness yawns between my legs. I begin to squeeze my thighs together; only thick, callused fingers wrap themselves about the tops of my thighs. I snap my eyelids open and find he’s right in front of me.

His hold on me stops me from pressing my legs together.