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“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Settle down there.”
She starts laughing. “It’s true. No one will believe you’re being honest about my photos once they find out we’ve slept together.”
“I have an idea.” Her eyebrow rises in piqued interest. “What if we don’t tell them? What if one day, when your photos are hanging in a gallery, we pretend we don’t know each other? That way, I won’t ruin the sale for you.”
Her smile slowly fades away, and her gaze lowers, drifting to the fire. “Us not knowing each other . . . That sounds tragic.”
“Don’t all great love stories end in tragedy?”
“No, only the ones that were never meant to be.” She gets up and stretches her arms above her head, revealing a sliver of skin in the middle. “Want to take a bath with me?”
“If you give me five minutes to set it up.”
“Deal.”
Shoving my hand in my pocket, I feel for the foil packet I shoved in there earlier. I enter the bathroom and start the water flowing in the tub. Grabbing the bag of petals, I toss them in and then grab a small bottle of bubble bath. I pop the cork and smell. It’s a nice floral. I think Story will like it, so I empty it into the tub.
Setting two big, fluffy towels on the small wooden table next to it, I think I’m ready. I look around and realize, nope, I’m missing the champagne and strawberries. Operation Seduction is in full swing. If it happens to make up for the other night, even better.
In the suite, I grab the bottle from the ice bucket, but when I reach for the plate of strawberries, half are already eaten. I glance at Story, who’s standing near the bed. She shrugs unapologetically, still chewing the evidence.
Taking one, I pop it in my mouth because fuck it, I don’t need strawberries to make this night romantic when I have her. I grab the two flutes and start for the bathroom again. Stopping, I lean back and say, “Get that cute ass in here.”
As playful as I’d like the rest of the night to be, I know we have heavier topics to discuss ahead. It’s just going to take a while to get there. We have a pattern I discovered. We swerve through conversations, taking unexpected detours and hitting roadblocks, but we always manage to get to our destination.
We’ll do it again and come out on the other side stronger as a couple. Who am I with this couple talk? I grin, unashamed of this change in me, and pop the champagne to fill the glasses.
A knock has me turning back and then doing a double take. Story, dressed in nothing but a smile, asks, “You ready for me?”
I set the bottle down beside the tub, then cross the tiled floor, taking hold of her hips. I can’t keep my hands off those delectable hips. “I’m ready for you, babe.”
We kiss, but she pulls back, too excited and wanting to peek around me. “Cooper.” She covers her mouth, her eyes volleying between me and the tub. “You did not.”
“I did. I did this for you. Do you want to get in?”
“I definitely want to get in.” Releasing her briefly, I turn the faucet knobs to shut off the water. It’s filled more than it should, knowing that two of us in the tub means there’s a strong chance the water will overflow.
She steps into the tub and dips into the water until it’s just barely covering her nipples. There’s no awkwardness in her body language, and she doesn’t hide from me, not even the scar that she purposely hid before. Like me, she’s changing. I can only hope it’s because of me. Like I have because of her. To have that kind of effect, one that is filled with, dare I say, hope is exhilarating. A different kind of high than I used to need.
Her hazel eyes are set on me as she runs soapy water down one arm and across her chest. The teasing vixen.
Leaning against the counter, it feels almost illegal to watch this woman bathe.
She takes the glass of champagne and a small sip before looking me over from head to toe and back again. “Are you going to come in? The temperature of the water is perfect.” Red rose petals dot her skin, and her hair is twisted up on her head. She takes another sip and sinks back against the tub.
I stand there and let a few heartbeats pass before I need to touch her again and start undressing. It’s late, but we’re both wide-awake. There is no point rushing into the new day, even if it is a holiday.
When I step in, the water’s warm, and the suds are already vanishing, but the petals remain vibrant against her pale skin. I ease down, cramming my body to fit and stretching my legs on either side of her, and spread my arms wide on the sides of the large porcelain tub.
