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Nope. I shake my head and take a long drink of coffee.
She reaches out, lightly touching my hand. “I’m always here for you. You know that. Now, have some stuffed mushrooms.”
Celia keeps my cup full and talks about her new show, never requiring much of a response. I let my thoughts wander. What would it be like to accept her offer? To never do another movie again. To move back here, where the only family I have lives. I think I’d like that.
Jessie’s in the city. Not far.
A door opens somewhere, and Jessie’s voice rings out, shepherding a chorus of drunken giggles out to the hot tub.
“Makeovers, dress up, and a photo booth. In my room.” Celia explains. “Mina got a hold of a bunch of costumes. William’s putting Liam and Evie to bed, but I’m guessing he fell asleep in the chair upstairs.”
Costumes. Christ.
How can I get my hands on those photos?
Celia pushes a plate of bruschetta my way. The guys walk into the kitchen, heaping shit on each other, as I’m eating the last one.
Timothy claps me on the shoulder. “There you are. Thought Jessie abducted you, not Mom.”
Celia throws a potholder at him, hitting him square in the chest.
Everyone attacks the food, talking and laughing. I try to follow along, but I’m thinking about Jessie in the hot tub in that little black bikini.
When the plates are cleaned of everything but crumbs, Timothy pushes a low-alcohol beer into my hand and turns to the group. “All right, boys. Strip off as much as you’re comfortable with and let’s go outside. We’re crashing the bachelorette party.”
Chapter sixteen
Jessie
Nicslidesintothehot tub next to me with a short, casual nod. He looks delicious in a pair of black jockey shorts that are going to cling to his dick like an obsessed fangirl when he gets out. Not to mention all those muscles on display.
Life isn’t fair. Sex with Nic was good. Incredibly good.
Throw-all-other-men-in-the-garbage good.
I could be seducing him for another round, but no. Nic’s an asshole and assholes gotta asshole. I don’t need that in my life. Even if the way he watched me when I interrupted their poker game had me thinking about dragging him away for a quickie.
The other guys file in from the patio, shivering in their underwear, laughing and shoving, climbing in. Timbo’s tight cannonball into the middle leaves everyone not quick to turn away with a face full of water. The hot tub is massive, but twelve people make for a squeeze. When Scotty Bryant splashes down on my other side, I scoot closer to Nic.
A hand cups my ass, more protective than sexual. I lean back, turning my head and dropping my voice. “That better be you, Fontana.”
His response is a gentle squeeze. Water bubbles from the jets, obscuring anything and everything happening underwater, so no one else knows when he hooks his thumb under the waistband of my bikini bottoms and gently strokes me.
Jesus Christ, Nic.Moving away means moving closer to Scotty; telling Nic to stop runs the risk of drawing attention.
Except I don’t want him to stop. The pressure of the jet on my back takes on a more sensual feel with him touching me. The little hairs on the nape of my neck, dampened by steam and frozen in the cold night air are suddenly in sharp focus, the contrast from the heat of the water, stark. I shudder and out of the corner of my eye, I catch the briefest smile cross his lips.
Scotty turns my way, his eyes darting down to my tits as though a quick peek makes it less obvious. “Haven’t seen you in years, Jessie. What’ve you been up to?”
Nic’s hand tightens on my ass, but his attention is on the conversation on his other side. I’m on my own, so I give Scotty some bullshit generic response about working in marketing. No way am I volunteering I work for a sex toy company to any of Timbo’s stupid-ass friends. When I turn the conversation to him, he chatters on, oblivious that I’m no longer listening.
I’m a magnet for assholes.
I scoop foam from the top of the water, watching it freeze in the cold night air before crunching it in my hand. My boredom is punctuated by Nic occasionally squeezing my ass, which is both arousing and annoying. I’d like to forget about him and he’s making that impossible.
The hot tub is sheltered on three sides for privacy, easily overlooked during the day thanks to my father’s gardening. It opens out to the small lake, the view stunning at dawn or dusk. Tonight, the stars above are obscured by steam, replaced by the twinkling of Christmas lights on the surrounding shrubbery and over the arch of the pergola. Everything beyond is a soul-sucking black.
Scotty touches my arm with the back of his hand as he makes a joke I didn’t hear and I hiss. Nic leans around me to glare at him, his hand moving to the base of my neck. Where anyone could see.
