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I’m not sure I heard her right at first. I think maybe I had a stroke or something, some kind of desperation-induced hallucination, but she’s smiling at me and all the light floods back into my world.
“Of course. I’d never,” I say, my voice coming out rough and raw like I haven’t used it in forever. But my expression of feigned offense pulls it off and she giggles, shaking her head at me.
“You would too.”
“All right, maybe. But only with you.”
Her cheeks glow and she dips her head, trying to hide it, but I already saw it and I’m never going to forget how damn cute she looks in this moment.
When I get back to her place and she gets out of the car, I hold my breath, not entirely convinced she’s going to come back. But then she comes jogging out with something balled up in her fist and I can’t stop the huge, dumb grin from lighting up my face. Then the realization hits that the tiny scrap of fabric balled up in her hand is her bikini, the only thing she’ll be wearing, and my cock surges to life.
“Okay, let’s go,” she says, jumping back in. But just as she’s putting her seatbelt on, she pauses. “Do you have sunscreen?”
“Uh… Probably?”
She frowns, eyes darting back to her house.
“You can go grab it. I’m not going anywhere without you,” I say.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. A little tan will look good in the promo materials.”
That just makes me chuckle and shake my head. Leave it to Chelsea Garten to rationalize UV exposure in favor of her career. But I’m not giving her the chance to change her mind, already pulling out of her driveway and heading across town to my place.
“God, I’m never going to get used to this place,” she says as I pull up to the gate and they swing open for my car automatically.
“You and me both,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at the guitar-gate like I do every time I come home. I’m not sure who built and designed this place, but I think they might have had a hard-on for Graceland or something. It’s over-the-top from the ground up. But it’s a roof over my head and it’s done a good job of keeping my nose out of trouble.
“You know, you could move,” she says, her nose wrinkling as she teases me.
“I could, but I haven’t really found a reason to.” I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s a suggestive edge to my voice that seems to be saying she’s the reason I’ve been looking for, but hell, even I’m not crazy enough to think things like that after only one night with the girl.
She lets it roll off her back, which I’m grateful for. “So, what’s for lunch? Please don’t say a frozen pizza.”
I clutch my chest like she’s wounded me and put the car in park, cutting the engine. “Would you believe me if I said I hadn’t thought that far?”
She sighs, looking exasperated. “Yes.”
“How about breakfast? I’m pretty sure I’ve got eggs and bread. I could probably whip up a mean French toast if you’re into that.” There’s not a whole lot else I can cook, but it’s something.
She laughs and shakes her head. “How about we order in and swim first so we don’t have to wait half an hour after eating.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s an urban legend and you’re just shunning my world-famous French toast.”
We’re in the house now and her laughter is bouncing off the walls, surrounding me in this happy glow that makes me feel better than I have any right to.
“Well, you were underselling it. I didn’t know it was world famous,” she teases.
“You joke, but my recipe got printed in Rolling Stone a few years ago.”
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t know you were published in the acclaimed culinary magazine Rolling Stone.”
“You know what? Now you don’t get the French toast. You’ve lost the opportunity,” I say, trying my best to keep a straight face, but it’s hard when her eyes are glittering at me like that.
“Please, Ian? I really want to try it now. You wouldn’t deprive me, would you?” The way her voice coos reminds me of her panting and begging for me last night. My balls tighten in my jeans and my cock presses uncomfortably against the zipper.
“I guess I can consider it, but I think I need to relax in the pool from your assault first.”
She rolls her eyes playfully, and then lunges forward to kiss me on the cheek. “I know you just want to see me in this bikini, but I’ll play along,” she whispers, her warm breath teasing over my ear, sending even more blood surging southward. This girl is going to be the death of me. But she’s not wrong. I want to see her in that bikini more than just about anything. She turns and heads off to change, but before she’s totally out of my reach, I smack her ass lightly, earning a little surprised yelp and a smoldering look from her.
