Page 35

“And if I’d rather sleep on the sofa?”

He steps closer, hands laden with plates, and I look up at him. “Then I’ll be the big spoon, and you’ll be the little spoon. Either way, I’m the one sleeping next to you tonight.” His possessiveness turns me on something fierce, but I try to hide it. I help him carry what we need down to the fire pits, and pour us some wine while he gets the burgers going. The city lights glitter against the backdrop of the setting sun, and when the sun is no longer visible, Kalon’s building’s lights come on. I drop onto the outdoor couch and curl my legs beneath me. I watch Kalon do his thing. He’s so sure of himself, of who he is, and that comes across in the simple way he moves. He makes quick work of preparing our food, and hands me a plate before sitting down beside me.

“This smells good,” I tell him.

“Wait until you taste it,” he replies, his eyes full of mischief. I bite into my burger, and moan. Kalon’s burger is halfway to his mouth, and he’s staring again.

“What?” I ask around a mouthful of food. He sighs and shakes his head before eating his own food. I only make it halfway through mine, but Kalon is happy to finish it.

“You’ve got something right here,” he moves closer. I lick my lips. “You missed it.” He wipes the side of my mouth with his thumb, then sucks it into his mouth. “Did you have enough to eat?”

“I did, thank you. It was delicious.” I take a sip of my wine, my gaze fixed on Kalon.

“Good,” he replies, sitting back. He rests his arm on the back of the sofa and lets out a breath that can only be described as content. Do I make him feel that way? Content? It sure seems that way. We sit in companionable silence for a while, and when he rubs my arm with his thumb, I shiver. His touch does that to me. “Cold?” he asks, his smile self-satisfied. Bastard.

“Not at all,” I tell him. “I’d actually like to take a dip in the pool.” I stand and remove my white wrap. “You want to join me?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He takes in my black high rise bikini bottom, and matching one-shoulder bikini top, which shows off my curves. I feel beautiful in this suit, feminine. And the expression on Kalon’s face tells me he thinks I look beautiful, too. The moment is too intense, too laden with sexual tension, and I need to break it.

“Race you to the pool,” I tell him, taking off to the infinity pool a few feet away. I think I’m going to make it before he does, but I’m airborne seconds later, and I squeal. “Kalon!” He throws me over his shoulder and jumps into the deep end. The water is warm, but not unbearably so. My head breaks the surface, and I wipe my hair from my face, glad I didn’t bother with make-up. “Oh my God,” I sputter, laughing.

Kalon’s head pops up, and while he wipes his face, I swim to the edge of the pool. The water ripples around me as Kalon comes closer, bracketing me against the glass. He can stand, so I feel him against my butt. I wiggle, and it gets me a grumble from deep inside his chest.

“We’re in a very public place, Channing,” he says, licking the skin between my shoulder and that spot behind my ear. I’ve never been into voyeurism, but I want to play with him. I want to have fun with him. And I want to misbehave with him, just a little.

“Are you saying you can’t behave yourself, Mr. Ward?”

“Oh, I can behave,” he says against my skin. “But you make me want to behave badly.”

I turn my head, searching for his mouth. He gets the hint and slants his mouth over mine. I turn in his arms and wrap my arms around his neck. His hands squeeze my butt, and I can feel how hard he is in his swim trunks. My fingers tangle in his wet hair, his beard tickling my chin. He pushes me back by my hips, dips his fingers into the waist of my bikini bottoms, and one hand goes down, down, down until I feel his fingers between my thighs. He slides a finger inside me, and I gasp.

“You’ll have to stay quiet,” he tells me. “Unless you want the neighbors to get a show.” From where I am, I can see the apartments at Kalon’s back, but for the most part, his body shields mine. A second finger slides in, and he curls them at the same time his thumb applies pressure to my clit. The water makes it difficult to move, but my hips follow the movement of his fingers. I stifle a moan, and Kalon watches me. He withdraws his fingers. “You need to know something.”

“What?”

“I had a vasectomy after the triplets were born. I know I should have told you the last time you were here.” This surprises me, and it must show on my expression because he adds, “I didn’t want more kids after the triplets were born.”

I’m a little relieved because we’ve had sex without a condom a few times. That first night he came to my place, we ran out of condoms, and at the time, I was too sexed-up to really pay attention. I was caught up in our hurricane.

“That’s good,” I reply. “Because I prefer you without a condom, anyway.”

“Yeah? You like me inside you bare?”

I nod, and Kalon takes that as a green light. He unties his swim trunks, lowers them just enough, and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he pushes my bikini bottom to the side. I have no warning before he’s pushing inside.

“If you want to scream, bite my shoulder,” he says, his voice grave and husky. It’s his sex voice, and damn if it doesn’t get me even wetter. I hold him to me and relish in the slow pump of his hips. This man can fuck, there’s no two ways about it, but when he takes his time? Everything around me slows down, and everything inside me makes space for everything he makes me feel. Having sex in a pool is a challenge, but we make it work. He moves faster, pushes deeper, and without having to be told, he flicks my clit. I bite his shoulder, which only serves as encouragement. I whimper, he groans, and after one, two, three hard and fast pumps of his hips, we come apart together. When I look up at him, his eyes are dazed. His chest moves with each labored breath. “I think we should continue this upstairs, don’t you?” He rights my bottoms before he tucks his dick back into his trunks. His lopsided grin is boyish on the surface, but I know better.

“Depends. Will you let me ride you?”

His expression tells me everything I need to know.

And it sets the tone for the rest of the weekend. He feeds me, we have sex — a lot of it — and we talk about everything, and nothing, and we laugh, and shower together. We put our phones off, shut out the world, and lose ourselves in the moments colored by our connection. By the time Sunday evening rolls around, and Kalon drives me home, I’m feeling overwhelmed and confused. It was a perfect weekend, and more than just ‘fooling around.’ At least, for me. How Kalon really feels I’m not sure, and I can’t see him reacting well to me spilling my guts. I like him, and the terrifying part is that I can see my future with him in it.

Our hands are intertwined as he drives, and he kisses my hand more than once, showing me more of the affection I got glimpses of this weekend. He’s kind, considerate, and he’s a fantastic lover. Except, he’s not my lover, is he? He’s just a Tinder-bang, and nothing more.

“I don’t want the weekend to end,” I say quietly, knowing he can hear me over the soft music playing in the background. He doesn’t reply, and suddenly I wish I hadn’t said anything at all. I dip my chin and feel the heat suffusing my cheeks. The rest of the car ride is uncomfortably silent, and though he hasn’t let go of my hand, I feel him pulling away. When we stop outside my apartment, I climb out and take my bag out before he can. He stares at me for a moment, until I can’t take the discomfort anymore. This is it, and I know it. So does he.

“Thanks for a fun weekend,” I say. I step forward and kiss him on the cheek. Before he can form a response, I’m walking up the stairs without looking back.