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I chuckle, wondering if he’s fucking serious.
“There you are,” Brylee says, strolling into the living room, carrying a stack of towels. “So I’m convinced my cat has magical qualities.”
“She just pissed on my foot,” Ryan mutters grimly.
“Exactly.”
I blink at them. What in the holy fuck? “She peed on you?”
“We women must stick together,” Brylee says, smirking.
“Not if you’re stuck to me,” Ryan says in a low, deep voice that has the instant effect of getting me hard.
I look down at the tent forming in my pants, wondering what the protocol is in such cases for hot tub dive-bombing.
And decide I don’t care. About protocols and rules. We’re here. The storm hasn’t reached us yet. I should stop overthinking things and let go.
Ryan seems to have the same idea. He strides over to me and starts pulling on my clothes—like he did in the morning. “Do I need to throw you into the tub?”
“Get over yourself.” But I like his hands on me, his desire to get me naked, the concern in his eyes.
I shouldn’t want his concern. Anyone’s concern.
Jerking away from him, I yank off my T-shirt and drop my pants. His gaze flicks down to my hardening dick, and he groans.
“Don’t move,” he says, and I frown at him.
What, should I pose here, while he goes off to do whatever it is he has in mind?
But he only strides back to where Brylee is standing, looking undecided, and swings her up in his arms. She squeals, dropping the towels, and hangs on to his neck, kicking her legs.
I shake my head, snorting.
“Whoever isn’t naked in five seconds,” Ryan announces, a twinkle in his gaze, “shall be dunked in, clothes, shoes and all.”
“You can’t possibly…” Brylee sputters, then squeals again when Ryan pushes the sliding door open with his foot and steps outside. “You’re nuts!”
“I know. But the good kind.”
“There is no good kind…put me down!”
I follow them out, where the sunken tub is steaming in the cold air. It’s a Jacuzzi, I realize, hot jets making the water ripple.
Storm in a cup.
Ryan puts Brylee down, and she toes off her shoes and pushes down her leggings, mock-glaring at him.
Or maybe plain glaring.
“See, it wasn’t that hard,” Ryan says, smirking as he whips off his own clothes, his T-shirt flying after his pants and last his briefs.
But it is. His dick is rock hard, and my mouth goes dry looking at him.
Then Brylee huffs and pulls off her blouse. She’s braless, and her tits hang bare, her nipples winking at me, hard from the cold. Man, the sight never gets old.
Hard. All hard, all around.
My back has been cramping from the frigid wind, so I climb down the steps into the tub and sink into the warmth with a sigh. The jets are hitting my sore lower back, and it’s all I can do not to moan with relief.
