AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He refilled his wine glass, then tipped the bottle at her. She nodded, letting him top up her glass, disconcerted by the information. And the thought of all the energy she’d wasted hating those faceless Frenchwomen, starting with Amelie Brouchard.
Then his thumb brushed her chin, the touch taking her mind right off Amelie. Forever. ‘Does that hurt?’
‘Not any more.’
The silent communication telegraphed between them, and she knew that he knew she wasn’t only referring to the bruise on her chin.
‘Good.’ He stretched out his legs and his calf brushed hers under the water.
She jolted, the soft bristle of hair and hot skin as the bubbles died both shocking and thrilling. She plopped her glass on the side, feeling a bit woozy and very, very … aware of him. ‘What happened to the bubbles?’
‘They’re on a timer.’
‘Oh.’
‘I can press that button over there—’ he dipped his head to indicate the switch on the opposite side of the tub ‘—and they’ll kick in again.’
The water had settled, revealing the rest of his torso. Her gaze slid down through the now clear water, inexplicably drawn to his lap, where white cotton billowed, waving like a flag of truce. Until her gaze focused and she realised that white cotton when wet was indeed a great deal more revealing than black stretch boxers. Especially when the man sitting next to you was sporting an enormous erection.
Heat throbbed into her face and the pulse in her clitoris went into overdrive. But for the life of her she could not tear her gaze away.
Luke’s penis had always been magnificent. So magnificent it had terrified her when they’d first started going all the way as teenagers. And for a very good reason. Size really did matter when that much magnificence was at the disposal of a seventeen-year-old boy who had no clue what to do with it. And the recipient of it was a sixteen-year-old girl who was far too eager to please. But now, seeing that magnificence straining against billowing white cotton, the broad circumcised head peeking above the waistband, she was fairly sure she’d never seen anything so erotic.
She hadn’t had any idea at sixteen that Luke was phenomenally well endowed, and to be honest, size really didn’t matter when it came to the actual act, in her considered opinion. But those kind of porn-star proportions could be a powerful aphrodisiac, especially when their owner was lounging in a hot tub, making no bones—or rather boners—about the fact he was fully armed and extremely dangerous … Particularly to her flagging impulse control.
‘So, about your lack of a vibrator …’ The tone was rough with arousal and provocation.
Her gaze finally detached itself from his lap and flicked to his face. And, God help her, she laughed at the hopeful smile on his lips.
Heat fanned out across her chest and throbbed into her bobbing boobs. ‘What about it?’
The smile took on a wolfish twist. ‘I was wondering if you were looking for a substitute.’
She should have told him no. That a substitute was the last thing she wanted. Especially one supplied by him. But as he studied her over the rim of his glass, the flirtatious dare hovering over the steamy water, her brain short-circuited and something entirely different came out of her mouth. ‘I’m afraid Bugs is going to be a very hard act to follow. No pun intended.’
He choked on the sip of wine. ‘You gave the thing a name?’ He sputtered, placing the glass on the side of the hot tub. ‘I think my balls just shrank.’
She grinned at his horrified expression. ‘Of course I did
. I happen to have a close personal relationship with it.’ OK, way too much information. But she couldn’t bring herself to care, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes a heady relief from the physical and emotional stresses of the past week. She glanced back at his lap, the heat rising up her torso more exciting now than scary. ‘They don’t look as if they’ve shrunk very much to me.’
‘I guess I lied about that.’
She laughed, the hum of arousal all but deafening now. ‘Have you had that sitting on the bench the whole time we’ve been talking?’
‘Are you kidding? He’s been raring to get on the pitch for days now. Why the hell do you think I had a swim in a lake full of bollock-freezing snowmelt this morning at six a.m.?’ He edged closer, until the long muscles of his thigh rubbed against her leg. ‘If you tell me you’re not raring for kick-off, too, I’ll back off and never mention it again. But if you are …’
With his face dewed with steam, the rough stubble of his beard beaded with moisture and those pure blue eyes sparkling with his invitation to sin, he was as good as irresistible. And it was fairly obvious he knew it.
She hadn’t felt this light-headed, or reckless, in years. Was she actually going to do this?
She cleared her throat. Determined not to go down in flames too easily. ‘While these football analogies may work wonderfully as pick-up lines in Paris, I’m going to require more finesse.’
He placed his outstretched hand on her nape, his thumb digging into tight muscles.
‘I can do finesse.’ The easy confidence was echoed in the delicious play of his fingers. ‘What sort of finesse did you have in mind?’
‘Maybe a conversation about what you envision happening after the final whistle?’
