“Would you prefer ‘to getting detained by Canadian police?’”
The champagne is crisp and perfect, and I watch him over the rim of my glass as he takes a drink. Then he sets his glass aside and sinks lower in the water, his hand finding my ankle beneath the bubbles. Just that simple touch, his thumb against my ankle bone, makes my pulse spike.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. Just processing.”
“Processing what?”
“That you’re here. That we’re here. That this is actually happening.”
His thumb traces slow circles on my ankle. “Having second thoughts?”
“No. Just—” I take another sip. “I’ve wanted this for a while now. But wanting it and actually doing it are different things.”
“We can slow down. We don’t have to?—”
“I want to. I want this. You, specifically. I’m just nervous.”
“Nervous is okay.” His hand slides up slightly to my calf. Still gentle. “We’ve got all night, JuJu. No rush.”
I set my glass down and take a breath.
His other hand comes up out of the water and he reaches toward me. “I can’t kiss you when you’re all the way over there.”
“I’m like two feet away.”
“Too far.” He tugs gently in a slight invitation for me to move into his space. The water shifts and bubbles part around us. And then I’m there, straddling his lap, and suddenly there’s nothing between us except water and heat.
His hands settle on my waist immediately.
“There we go,” he murmurs. “Much better.”
I can feel everything now. Every inch of him. And between us?—
“Are you blushing, JuJu?”
“No.” The lie is immediate.
“Liar.” But he’s smiling as he brushes the hair back from my face. “I love your hair like this. Messy and falling down.” His fingers thread through it. “You look like you’ve been kissing all night.”
“Well, we have.”
“We have not nearly done enough kissing tonight.” His hand cups the back of my neck and pulls me down. “Need to fix that.”
His mouth finds mine and I’m lost. His other hand slides up my side, thumb brushing against me, and I gasp. He swallows the sound and deepens the kiss, his tongue slides across mine and he tastes like champagne.
I shift on his lap and he groans. His grip on my waist tightens, holding me still.
“JuJu—” My name comes out rough. “You can’t move like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying really hard to go slow here and you’re making it impossible.”
I do it again. Rolling my hips deliberately.
His head falls back against the tub. “Fuck.”
