Her soft breasts press against my ribs, sending a zip of awareness straight to my cock. Sensation floods from my head to my toes as my muscles stiffen beneath her touch.
She braces one palm on my thigh for leverage.
And that’s when I stop fucking breathing.
Because now I’m fully aware of every inch where our bare skin is touching. Meadow’s delicate fingers curl against my leg, her thumb dangerously close to where my body physically achesfor her. Her chest rises and falls, rubbing against mine as I intimately study the water droplets clinging to the curve of her throat.
“Brooks,” she pushes, voice strained with effort and irritation. “I swear to God, if you don’t give me the damn phone, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I murmur, looking down at her.
Meadow freezes. Her breath catches as I watch the exact second she hears it—the way my tone shifts from playful to unmistakably sensual.
Her face tips up until we’re only a breath apart.
The pool noise fades.
The laughter from the hot tub dulls to a white noise.
All I can see and hear isher: her dark, wet lashes, the way tiny puffs of air blow from her parted lips. Her seductive eyes dart back and forth between mine, begging me to make the next move.
My throat bobs when I feel her fingernails dig deeper into my thigh.
My arm slowly lowers as I gently discard her phone on the ledge beside me. She doesn’t seem to notice because our locked eyes never break. Her hazy stare drops from my eyes to my mouth, and that small, involuntary movement flips a switch in me.
She wants this.
She fucking wants this.
She’s not running from it.
The awareness between us ignites like a wildfire. If I lean down another inch, I could kiss her. Finally taste her. Finally answer the question that’s been simmering in the back of my mind since the first day she walked into our office with her timid smile and curious eyes.
What would happen if I crossed the line? Would she hate me? Never speak to me again?
My free hand moves on its own accord, reaching down to push a lock of hair away from her cheek. Her heart hammers against my chest, matching the rhythm of mine.
“Meadow,” I rasp, her name rough on my tongue.
“Yeah?” she breathes.
“Tell me the truth,” I rasp. “Is he really just some guy you went on a date with?”
She swallows thickly, her grip on me tightening.
“Why do you care?” she whispers.
Because the idea of anyone else touching you makes me homicidal.
“Because,” I say instead, voice filled with gravel, “I’m trying to decide if I should call him back and tell him you’re occupied at the moment,” I pause before continuing. “That you won’t be calling him back.Ever.”
Her pupils grow wide as a hot puff of air blows from her mouth, caressing my lips with the hint of a kiss. I press my forehead to hers, needing to touch her. Needing to do something other than smother her lips with mine.
I swear to God, I hear her let out a soft moan.
The temptation to close the little bit of distance between us is unbearable.
Her lashes flutter. Her body presses into mine, giving me the permission I need. Just kiss her, Owen.
