Page 19 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Fuck. She’s in there, naked, and I’m out here like an absolute idiot. After taking my shoes off and changing into dry clothes, I find the robe I never use and knock on the door.

“Come in,” she calls.

I step into the lavender-scented bathroom and am nearly taken to my knees by the sight before me.

Elodie lounges in the tub, covered by the bubbles.

Her hair is piled on top of her head, exposing her neck and shoulders, and as she smiles up at me, all I can think is how right it feels to have her here.

This whole night has felt like that: right .

As though Elodie is what I have been missing.

And I don’t know if it’s as easy as all that, because I still have to be so careful, but now?

Now, there is a naked woman in my bathtub, and I’m stuck in place, staring at her.

“Hi,” she says softly, a smile playing on her lips.

“Hi.” Any game I thought I might have had—any possible bit of smooth-operator moves in my arsenal—flies totally out of my head. “You’re beautiful,” is all that comes out of my mouth.

She giggles and blushes, her eyes darting away from mine.

I hold the robe up. “I brought you this. I can put your stuff in the dryer, unless that’s weird?”

Another sweet giggle as she meets my gaze. “That’s not weird. But no.”

“No?”

“Get in with me.”

The world stills and my head empties. “Get—get in with you?” I repeat dumbly.

She nods. “I’ll close my eyes.” Then quirks a grin. “Promise.”

I’m about to tell her no, but a smarter part of me whacks the stupid part in the head with a muttered I swear to God if you don’t get in that tub, you asshole. So I swallow and nod. “Um. Okay.”

A broad smile erupts on her face. “Okay. I’m closing my eyes.”

I step to the other side of the enormous bathroom, more grateful than ever that I bought this house, and lay the robe on the counter.

I pull my shirt off and shuck my bottoms, then catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I’m hunched over like some kind of bridge-dwelling troll, with a look of utter shock on my face, and I have to laugh at myself.

Get it together, Miles . I straighten, take a deep breath, and step out of my underwear.

After folding everything and setting it neatly into a pile on the sink, I risk a glance at Elodie. Seriously, how lucky am I?

“Keep those pretty eyes of yours closed,” I admonish as I step in, lowering myself in on the other side from her. The tub is truly enormous, but not so big that our legs don’t touch as I get situated.

She giggles again, pulling her knees above the water and opening her eyes. They roam over me appreciatively, even though all she can see is my upper chest. “Hi,” she says again.

I let out a breath, my gaze locked on the bubbles sliding down her bare knees.

“Warm?”

Burning up. I look at her. “Yes. You?”

She bites her lip, sucking it into her mouth a little and letting it slide out from her teeth. I can’t hold the groan back, and a soft sound of appreciation leaves her. “This is nice,” she says. “But it could be nicer.”

“Oh, yeah?” I sound hoarse. And that internal voice from earlier, the one that slapped the back of my head, is back. You. Are. An. Idiot. Get the fuck over there.

“Mm-hmm,” she says, her gaze searing into mine.

Got it. “I have an idea.”

Her brows rise hopefully. “You do?”

“I do.”

“And what’s that?”

“A way for both of us to stretch out.”

A corner of her mouth quirks up. “How might that work?”

“I think I should get behind you, and you can lean against me.” And I’ll just pray that this semi I’m sporting underwater doesn’t get any bigger.

“That sounds perfect,” she says, scooting forward a bit.

Here goes nothing. Is it weird that it sounds like stadium cheers are going off in my head?

It’s weird.

Whatever.

I pull my legs up and shift in the tub, both of us snickering a bit as we get into position.

But after a moment, we’ve got it, and I’m leaning against the back of the tub with her between my legs.

The warmth of the water is finally seeping into my muscles, forcing me to relax.

Time slows. I study her back, the patterns of freckles and the way the bubbles are scattered across her wet skin.

I try to keep thoughts of where else I might find those freckles out of my head. I fail.

She turns to look back at me, her arms covering the tops of her breasts, then grins. “Your glasses are fogged.” She reaches to take them off, her touch soft and sure, then stretches to set them safely out of the way before settling safely back against me. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“I can confidently say that I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I state, finally getting my shit together.

Whatever existential moment I’ve been having is gone, and I pull her to me with no hesitation.

She settles her back against my chest, her bottom half not quite pressed against me.

Which is good. Great, even. Because I am not… soft.

“Lay your head back,” I whisper. She does, her weight dropping onto me as she relaxes.

I pull a hand up and trace her skin, moving from her neck to her shoulder, then tracing her arm down into the water.

Back and forth I go, keeping my moves damn near saintly, until she sighs and raises her body a bit.

It’s enough to tell me she wants more, so I give it to her.

My fingers trace along the tops of her breasts, right at the waterline, until I move just a little below.

She inhales.

“Good?” I murmur into her ear.

“Yes,” she answers quietly.

I go farther, tracing the outside of her breasts, circling tighter and tighter.

She raises an arm and wraps it around my neck, and the move lifts her even more out of the water.

I keep circling her breasts, then going out, down her arm, and then back up, until her back arches, her nipples tight and hard, as my fingers finally move over them.

Her breath hitches. “So good,” she says. Then, “More.”

I’m so hard, it’s ridiculous. But she doesn’t seem to care, and in fact, I’m pretty sure she likes it. I press my palm flat against her chest, running down her generous belly until I move to the side and squeeze her leg.

She whimpers. “No, Ansel.”

I chuckle. “Tell me what you want, Elodie.”

She whines. “You know I don’t talk like that!”

I bring my hand up to her stomach, then go to the other leg and squeeze. “Say the words, gorgeous. Just say the words and I’ll give it to you.” Fuck, please say the words.

She whimpers again. “Ansel…”

I trail my fingers up one thigh, then down and over her stomach to the other thigh. “Tell me, Elodie.” My voice is rough, dark.

“I want your fingers between my legs,” she says, breathless.

“Good girl. And when they get there? Then what?” I prompt.

“I—” she exhales roughly. “I want you to touch me. Make me…make me feel. ”

“That’s a good start,” I croon, and then I give her what we both want.