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“Alright, I'll be down,” I said. “Let me put on some clothes.”
“Do you have to?” Lydia teased.
“Well, unless you want your daughter to see me in all my glory...”
I let my voice trail off, a smile ticking at my lips.
“I know Ember well enough to know she'd appreciate it,” Lydia said with a wink.
She left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. With a sigh, I stepped out into the bedroom and dropped the towel.
An afternoon in the pool with my wife and incredibly hot stepdaughter. What could go wrong?
Chapter Three
Ember
Jude's backyard was spacious, surrounded by large hedges and trees, giving the illusion you were far away from the city of Chicago. It was peaceful and serene, and during their honeymoon when I had the place to myself, I spent many hours out there. Sometimes swimming, sometimes just basking in the glow of the sun. My mother and I had lived in a penthouse downtown, which had its own set of perks – like being close to everything. This, however, was nice. Almost like a vacation in and of itself.
I was lounging in a red and white polka dot bikini, one of those vintage types with the high waist and a little bow on the front. With the sun beating down on me, I stretched my legs out, feeling like an old Hollywood starlet.
It was nice being free from school for the summer, even if I did have to spend it with my mom and her husband. It still baffled me how someone like her could land one of the most eligible bachelors in all of Chicago in just under three months’ time.
Not that I was looking. My schoolwork always came first. Boys second. Marriage, a distant third. If that. Unlike my mother, I planned to only get married once, if I could help it. I took the idea of holy matrimony seriously and was not going to rush into anything.
Because let's face it, I saw how it often worked out for her. Sure, she had money, but she lacked any sort of affection for the men she married. I thought, perhaps, that might change with Jude since he was different than the others, But, so far, I'd seen nothing to make me think she actually loved the man, only that she loved the lifestyle his bank account would afford her.
She loved his money, and that was it. It made me feel bad for the guy. With the older men my mom married, most of them knew what they were getting into. Jude though, seemed like the type of guy who wouldn't settle for a trophy wife. Didn't seem like the kind of guy who wanted to marry a pretty woman in exchange for giving her the life of luxury in return.
When the patio door opened, I lowered my sunglasses, surprised to see Jude standing there. He didn't look entirely pleased to be there. His face hardened into a mask and he looked reluctant to step out. Our eyes met from across the pool, and I saw the struggle on his face. He was trying so hard not to look at me, but he couldn't seem pull his eyes away either. It was like a magnet pulled our eyes together, forcing us to stare at one another.
My gaze moved over his body, which he concealed in both a shirt and a pair of shorts – not exactly regular pool attire. I wanted him to peel off that shirt, to showcase those abs the media often spoke about. Sure, I'd seen photos of him shirtless – when the paparazzi snapped pictures of him on some exotic beach somewhere. But, standing there in front of me, he seemed humbled, reluctant to flaunt himself.
“Join me, dear,” mom said from the shallow end of the pool.
She leaned back against the side of the pool, her arms spread and her legs floating. She had a cocktail sitting beside her and looked utterly blissed out. Enjoying the high life. Jude glanced at his wife, then back at me.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled. “If you want me to leave, just say so.”
“No, I don't want you to leave,” Jude said.
“Don't be silly, Ember,” mom scolded me. “This is family bonding time. I'm not sure why Jude's acting so strange.”
Color rushed in my cheeks as I noticed the hardness in his shorts. It might be awkward enough if he was staring at my mom as he got hard. But no, his eyes were firmly on me. As if he realized that I noticed he was hard, he abruptly turned away, facing the mini bar. His hands trembled as he made a drink. Not much, just the tiniest of trembles. But, I caught it all the same.
“Jet lag,” Jude said.
“What, dear?” mom asked without looking over at her husband.
“I'm feeling out of sorts from the jet lag,” he said.
“Ahh, I told you to sleep on the plane,” she said, her voice condescending, reminding me of how she usually spoke to me. “Maybe next time you'll
listen.”
I cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a response from Jude. His body tensed, and when he turned to look at my mother, his brows knitted a thin, straight line and his face tight with irritation. Annoyance oozed from his expression, but, he didn't say a word.
“Really, mom? Is that any way to talk to your new husband?” I said.
