I looked at my hands, which were in fact pruney. “The night’s still early. A concussion could be in the cards for you if you play your hand right.”
He rubbed his hand over his face, which was sporting some sexy stubble. “All right, lightweight champion of the world, let’s get you out before Jules gets here.”
He glanced down at the dwindling bubbles. I stood. I wasn’t aware I was doing it until I felt the water sluicing down my body.
Mr. Easton’s eyes were methodical as they traveled from the top of my head to where my shins met the water. He gulped, and I couldn’t help the smirk gracing my face.
I watched in fascination when his methodical perusing turned into a chaotic motion, pinging from my lips, to my breasts, to my perfectly shaved vagina, back to my breasts, and right back to my vagina.
He stood slowly, and I swallowed when I noticed the large erection pressing against his zipper.
“Is that a banana in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”
“What did I say about asking stupid questions?”
I giggled. Goosebumps pebbled over my skin, and I didn’t know if it was from the cool air on my wet skin or from the heat steaming off his gaze.
“Of course it’s a banana. Why would anyone be happy to see you?”
I blinked when I registered what he’d just said, and then a full belly laugh erupted so unexpectedly, I bent at the waist, my knees going weak.
“It is an organic banana,” he added, which had me wheezing.
My fluffy robe wrapped around my bent frame. I struggled to put my wet arms through the arm holes. “Holy shit, who would have thought Easton had jokes?”
I stood, and my chest was inches from brushing his.
“It’s Mr. Easton to you, Ms. Rachel.”
HOLY.
FUCK.
My loud gulp echoed off the tiled walls of the bathroom. His dark green eyes were gone, overtaken by his black pupils. He put out his large hand, and without thinking I placed my smaller one inside. He helped me out of the mostly empty bathtub, our gazes glued together.
“Please forgive my overly friendliness, Mr. Easton.”
Was that my voice?
The breathless huskiness would have made any movie vixen jealous.
“You’re not forgiven.” The hand not holding mine snaked around my waist, pulling me flush to him.
“I’m not?”
He smirked, his head angled down, refusing to break our stare off.
“No, you’re not.”
“Whatever should I do to earn your forgiveness?”
His eyes darted down to my mouth. My tongue darted out in a shameless invitation.
“This is a very bad idea,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to mine.
“Why is that?” I’d never been happier I’d brushed my teeth. When I asked, I pushed out my lips, allowing them the tiniest brush against his.
“Shall I list them? Your fiancé just broke up with you, you had a failed threesome attempt, you might still be a little drunk, even though the amount of vomit that exited your body was impressive, and we don’t like each other.”