Page 48

Vera

I shook my head and sighed when Hart walked away. That man had an ass on him. It sat high and tight, and I didn’t have to wonder why his thighs were so thick.

He needs those muscly thighs to hold that ass and dick up.

I took my sweet ass time polishing off my sandwich, forcing Hart to anticipate my arrival. He’d be annoyed to all high heaven, but I didn’t mind him having a little attitude because I planned on sucking that right out of him, and I wouldn’t stop until I’d gotten every last drop.

Once I finished my sandwich, I gave myself a quick tour of Hart’s condo. Hart’s “tour” the night before was useless. I had only caught glimpses of sleek architecture softened by rustic furnishings. Hart had my full attention the rest of the “tour.”

I ditched the polished chef’s kitchen with its top-of-the-line appliances and approached the living room. I crossed the cowhide rug and gazed up at the expansive longhorns anchored to the wall above the fireplace. My gaze tracked down to the picture frames resting on the mantle. I picked one up and couldn’t help but smile. It was a picture of Hart, with whom I assumed were his younger brothers, DeAndre, and Mr. and Mrs. Young, on a fishing trip.

“Did you forget about me?” a husky voice rumbled behind me.

“Shit,” I cursed, fumbling with the picture frame. I sighed with relief when Hart came in with the assist and caught the frame before it clattered to the ground. I turned to him, slightly dismayed at the white towel secured around his waist.

“Good thing I came to check on you, or I would’ve passed out in the hot tub waiting for you.”

“My bad. I got distracted,” I apologized, motioning to the photo. “Family fishing trip?”

Hart’s features softened, and his shoulders sagged as he regarded the picture. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yeah. I wanted to go fishing for my 12th birthday. Ms. Kelly and Pops rounded us all up and took us to the lake a few hours away. We woke up at 2:00 that morning, dressed in our fishing gear, ate a quick breakfast, and packed two coolers full of food and drinks. We were out the door by 4:00 and fishing by 6:30.”

“How was the catch?”

“Fucking amazing. We came home with so many fish that we didn’t know what to do with them. We spent the evening dressing the fish, and my brothers were sent home the next evening with twenty pounds of bass.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It was,” he agreed softly, returning the frame to the mantle before plucking another one up. I accepted the photo when he handed it to me. It showed Hart, his brothers, and DeAndre outside an arena. They were older—mid-to-late teens, growing into their masculine features. Hart had his arm slung over one of his brother’s shoulders and wore a crooked, lopsided grin that I knew made all his female classmates weak in the knees. “This is Hawthorne,” he said, pointing at the brother he hugged. “And this is Radcliffe. It was Hawthorne’s 15th birthday, and he was huge into wrestling. I saved up my money, bought us all tickets, and showed him a good time.”

“They’re lucky to have a big brother like you.”

“I’d like to think so. I don’t see them as often as I would like.” He started tugging on that damn earring again. “I miss home.”

I rubbed his back, hoping it’d bring him some comfort.

“When will you be able to see them again?”

“I’ll be able to steal a few days around Christmas. It’s not that far away, but I know the next two months will drag like a son of a bitch just because I’m looking forward to it.”

“Tell me about it,” I murmured, replacing the frame on the mantle.

“Let’s go, Sugar. We have an early start in the morning, and I need at least three hours out of you.”

I failed to hold back the shudder that ripped through me when his arm circled my waist. He led me back to the kitchen and snagged a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge.

“Are we celebrating something?” I asked flirtatiously.

“The start of what I hope to be a beautiful, long-lasting partnership,” he answered candidly once we entered the balcony that was shrouded from Peeping Toms with privacy screens. I closed my eyes and held back a moan when his lips ghosted the shell of my ear and whispered, “Now take your fucking clothes off.”

I wanted to challenge him and tell him to take them off for me, but I’d been teasing Hart long enough, and didn’t want him to rip one of my favorite tops.

“Whatever you want, Sweet Hart,” I agreed, rounding the hot tub to put some space between us so he wouldn’t pounce on me. Grateful for the privacy screen, I started undressing. I stopped when I got to my bra and thong.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Hart commented as he dropped the towel from around his waist. His erection was back in full force, and so was my desire to lick the salty precum that pebbled from the head.

He climbed in, and I didn’t hesitate to abandon my delicates on the balcony floor with the rest of my clothes. The cold breeze brushed against my nipples, turning them into stiff peaks that demanded the warmth of his tongue.

I entered the hot tub and moaned softly as I lowered myself in and met him in the center. He angled the bottle away from me and popped the cork. Champagne foam gushed from the bottle and spilled down the sides. I touched my tongue to the glass and dragged it up the foam trail while making eye contact with him. And from the smoldering look Hart gave me, it was clear he was picking up what I was putting down and thinking about getting his dick sucked.