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Together, we make our way through the patio area and around the pool. A big grin spreads across my face when we enter the private area, perfect for reading, painting, or just watching the waves crash along the shore. There are two chairs and a small round table along one side, and still the perfect clearing to bring out my easel and paints.
Jensen gets to work setting the table with the goodies from his basket. The scent of sweet and sour chicken fills the air, making my mouth water. “I’m starving,” I announce as I set the bottles of beer on the table beside each plate.
We both dive in, the sound of the ocean singing in the background. “So how was your day?” he asks.
“Productive. The new paints I ordered arrived today,” I tell him, taking my first bite of shrimp fried rice. I don’t mention I cleaned up the unfinished painting and dipped my brush in some paint, just to see if I still had the desire.
“Great. Now you can get back to doing what you love.” His blue eyes sparkle against the fading sunlight and the smile he gives makes my panties a useless pile of material in less than four seconds.
“After I finished organizing the kitchen, I unboxed all of the old movies in the entertainment room and put them on the shelves. I’m willing to bet the old VHS player doesn’t work anymore, but I can’t seem to part with the movies. There are so many Disney ones I watched a million times as a kid,” I recall, remembering how my mom would turn on a movie to keep me entertained while I was young. It wasn’t until I was approaching my teenage years that I was forced to put away the childish movies and attend all of their fancy dinners. They were horrible. Arrogant men and their uptight wives. Well, sometimes it was their wives. I do recall a few girlfriends in attendance every now and again, but no one ever talked about that, and questions were never asked, especially by a child.
“Tomorrow we’ll tackle the library office. Together.”
Finishing off a good portion of my plate, I reply, “I appreciate that. I’m afraid there are years’ worth of unnecessary paperwork in there we can pitch or burn.”
“I can light up the new stone firepit,” he agrees. There’s something about a man and fire that gets them all sorts of excited.
“That would be helpful, I’m sure.”
After dinner is finished, I stand up to gather our empty containers and dirty dishes. “I got it,” Jensen says, taking the trash from my hands and tossing it in the basket.
“You don’t have to clean up too. I’m more than capable of helping,” I argue.
Jensen stops and comes around the table. He places his big hands on my upper arms, my body practically humming just with the slightest contact. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you go inside and throw on a swimsuit. The water is perfect.”
Excitement races through my blood. I used to love to swim in the pool when I was younger, but admittedly, haven’t had much of a chance in my adult years. And even though the pool was just fixed and filled this week, I have yet to dip so much as a toe in the warm, crystal blue water. “Do you have a suit?”
His eyes dance with something on the naughty side. “I do,” he says, low and husky, like lightning striking the apex of my legs. “I’ll get this cleaned up while you change,” he says, turning me toward the house. With a light slap on the ass, he sends me away to change into my bathing suit.
When I reach the house, I practically sprint up the stairs. My houseguests are gone, so I go straight for the suit that is sure to make Jensen’s mouth water. Two years ago, Charles took me to Fiji for a week and I bought this suit on a whim. When I got there, I didn’t have the guts to wear it, but now?
Now, I’d wear just about anything for Jensen. Or nothing at all.
I slip the lavender two-piece on, tying the two strings behind my neck. Opting to leave my swim wrap in the drawer, I head out of the bedroom, stop in the hall bathroom to grab two beach towels, and return to the backyard in under ten minutes. When I approach the pool, I find Jensen wearing swim trunks and skimming the top of the pool. The moment he looks up and sees me, I feel his appreciation as if it were a hand caressing my very bare skin. Usually, I’d feel completely exposed in such a skimpy little bikini, but not now.
Not with Jensen.
I feel liberated.
I feel sexy.
And if the way his eyes are devouring me are any indication, I’d say he definitely agrees on both.
“Jesus, Kate,” he says, finishing the job before taking the skimmer over to the pool house and clipping it on the rack outside. “That suit should be illegal.”
“This ol’ thing?” I ask, running my hand along the small lavender triangles that barely cover my girls.
“Something tells me that isn’t so old,” he replies, heading my way with the approach of a jungle cat. I can see it in his eyes. He’s about to devour.
Deciding to play a little hard to get, I dip my toes in the cool water. The pool is temperature controlled, and on a warm day like today, the cooler water definitely is refreshing. Before Jensen can get his hands on me, I throw an ornery grin over my shoulder and jump into the pool. The water envelops me, the force of my fall pulling me under, but I don’t care. It feels amazing.
The moment I surface, I hear a splash. As I wipe water from my eyes, strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me into slick, warm flesh. My legs instantly snake around his hips, the hard erection between his legs pressing against where I want him most.
“This is the sexiest suit I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, trailing a finger down my breastbone and between my cleavage.
“I’ve never worn it before,” I admit, grateful to have taken the plunge, both figuratively and literally.
“I’m glad no other asshole has seen you in this but me, Butterfly. I’m not sure I’d be able to handle watching other guys drool all over you,” he says, his finger toying with the string that connects one triangle to the other.
