“And that’s hard?”
“I’m hoping it will be.” I walk my fingers up his thigh. “You’ve got a thirsty woman on your hands who expects to give and get plenty of orgasms this weekend.”
“I’m on duty. All day… and night.”
“I should’ve brought a bell.”
“Just call my name, and I’ll be there.”
My mouth twists wryly. “You did not just quote The Jackson Five.”
He has the nerve to wink, then make me melt by lifting my hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. Hot and sweet—the most lethal combination.
“We’re almost there,” he says some minutes later, trading the freeway for a quiet, narrow road. It winds in tight curves, the trees crowding close, until the forest breaks away and the lake comes into view.
The water is a mossier green than the bright blue of Bayside in summer. Grove Cove sits on a smaller, remote lake. We pass two houses spaced over a mile apart before we come upon a luxury two-storey home that’s all cedarwood and glass. DK steers the Audi up the paved driveway and cuts the engine. The solitude is instant, echoing in the sudden, ringing silence.
“Wow,” I say, my jaw dropping as I take it all in. “I was expecting a rustic cabin.”
“Neo doesn’t do rustic,” he says with affection for his brother. “Ready to check it out?”
“Definitely.”
He grabs our bags, and we climb the steps to a sprawling wraparound deck. DK punches in a code—repeating the numbers for me—and lets us inside. The foyer spills into a high-ceilinged great room surrounded by tall windows. It’s modern and open, dressed in muted earth tones. Expensive furniture, but the thick pillows and soft throws say it’s built for comfort.
I kick off my wedge sandals and gaze up at him. My shades now tucked into my tote, our eyes finally meet without a filter. He looks so good in tan linen shorts and an off-white cabana shirt. More casual than his suit and pocket square, but still him. “We’re really here.”
He toes off his shoes and pauses, the duffles still in his hands. “That sounded heavy.”
“It is. But not in a bad way. I’m just… feeling the moment.” I step to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m happy.”
The tightness in his features eases. “Let’s get these bags upstairs. You can pick dinner. I ordered a few things I thought you’d like. Then—” he nips my bottom lip, “I’ll get started on filling that orgasm quota.”
I lick the sting and follow his fine ass up the stairs, with no intention of waiting until after dinner.
Chapter Twenty-Six
DK
The master suite is as impressive as the rest of the house. Like something out ofArchitectural Digest. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the lake, and the decor has Neo’s influence: a king bed draped in deep purple linen sits like an altar in the center of the room, while the large mirror above the dresser watches like a silent witness.
I drop the bags and turn to Luna. I lose whatever I planned to say when she pounces, stripping away the easy vibe with something raw. Luna’s hands shove beneath my shirt, tracing my ribs and squeezing my sides.
“Mmm,” she vibrates against my collarbone. “Dinner can wait.”
“No argument there.” I catch the curve of her waist, kissing her with the kind of white-hot need that makes my head spin.
She responds with equal fervor, her fingers fumbling open the four buttons of my shirt. I break the kiss to shrug it off and fold the garment on the dresser—a reflex from a life of order—ridiculous under the circumstances, but Luna’s response tells me she doesn’t mind the quirk.
“You’re such a good Boy Scout,” she teases.
“I’m not feeling particularly ‘good’ right now.” I reach for the side tie of her dress, and with one tug, the fabric vanishes.
My pulse hammers in my ears. She’s a vision in nude mesh. Beneath the glow of the chandelier, her luscious cleavage spills over sheer cups, the embroidered triangle is nestled between her plush thighs, and her soft belly drapes along the scalloped waistband.
“Damn, Luna. You trying to kill me.”
“You like Curvafy?” Her fingers trace the plunge neckline, setting my blood on fire.
