Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
When I spot the aloe vera in his hands, I sigh in relief. “Yes. I thought I had misplaced it.” As quickly as relief bombards me, fret takes its place. “Is Lucy okay? She didn’t get burned, did she? She said her tooshie hurt, but I thought she had chafing, so I put talcum powder on her bottom to soothe any further irritation.”
“Lucy is fine.” His smile makes him look less tired. “Excluding some badly placed chafing. I doubt she’ll wear a butt-hungry swimsuit again anytime soon.” With his confession rendering me silent, he enters the bathroom without protest before asking, “Do you still need help?”
“With?”
Another outfit that will have you tripping over your tongue?
The key to unlocking your secrets?
A new pair of panties since the scent of your aftershave disintegrated the ones I’m not wearing?
I’m left a little gob-smacked when he replies, “With the gel.” I take a mental note to let Lucy destroy the kitchen for the next month when Brodie nudges his head to her closed bedroom door and confesses, “She promised not to wear a G-string until after graduation if I agreed to fix your butt.”
“I can reach my butt.”
I’m not turning him down. I simply don’t want his daughter pushing him out of his comfort zone.
That’s my job.
When disappointment crosses his face long before relief, I say, “But I wouldn’t say no to some assistance with my back. I can’t reach the middle.”
He takes a moment to deliberate before lifting his chin.
Our eyes remain locked even with me spinning to face away from him. The mirror stretched from one side of the double vanity to the next is perfect for keeping the tension high. It crackles and hisses in the air along with Brodie’s groan when his attempt to rub lotion into my back is foiled by the satin dressing gown I’m wearing sans panties.
“I need to take it off.”
I wait for him to fire off an objection.
When he doesn’t, I unknot the silky material and let it drop where it falls.
The hiss that escapes Brodie’s mouth when he realizes I am without panties matches the one that leaves my mouth when his gel-loaded fingers land on my heated skin. I’m not hissing in pain. I am moaning about the spasm his briefest touch causes my skin.
I’m on fire again but for an entirely different reason this time around.
“You should never take Chelsea’s advice.” His fingertips tickle my spine as his hand floats down my back. “Rarely is it right. She forever steered Caroline in the wrong direction.”
His voice is not as angry as anticipated, so I say, “I wouldn’t say her plan was brilliant, but it achieved the effect we were aiming for.”
He peers at me over my shoulder, his hand still soothing to my back. “How?”
“I wanted to make you jealous,” I answer, the truth not missed in my tone.
His hand slips a little lower and to the left, his fingertips teasing my rib. “Why?”
“Because until your confession last night, I was beginning to wonder if the fireworks were one-sided.”
His fingers tickle my side boob when I spin to face him, but he drops his hand before its gooey surface can add to the bumps in my areolas.
I don’t mind. The tension is so white hot I don’t need to hear words to feel wanted. I can feel it radiating out of him, smell it on his skin. He wants this as badly as I do. He’s just too scared to make the first move.
For once in my life, I’m not.
I step closer until my erect nipples scratch his chest, then confess, “You were meant to follow me to my room.” Confusion barely graces his face before I strive to eradicate it. “The night you watched me.” I stray my eyes to the bathtub before returning them to his face, smiling when no amount of distance could have me mistaking his body’s reaction to my reminder that I masturbated in front of him. He’s hard. I’d put money on it. “You were meant to follow me to my room and finish what you started. But instead, you—”
“Finished in the shower… with my hand…” His breaths are hot and heavy on my lips. “Thinking about you.” As his eyes drop to my lips, his tongue darts out to wet his mouth. “Your taste. Lips.” A ghost-like grin stretches across my face when he groans. “Those fucking shorts.” You’d swear I didn’t put sunscreen on my face when he drags the back of his index finger across my cheeks. “Even these came up.” He pays so much dedicated attention to my freckles that I wonder if they’re an erogenous zone on my body I didn’t know about before he once again lowers his hand. “But no matter how shiny the fruit, sometimes you can’t bite into the apple.” Finally, his eyes give in and drop to my breasts for the quickest second before they return to my face. “You need me to walk away.” He ignores my headshake. “And I need to respect that more than my wish to fuck you senseless.”