Page 33 of The Sweet Spot

I wish it had happened differently, but, I’m sure. How are your loose ends? All tied up?

Deacon

Not yet. I got my place listed with a realtor and already had a few people come through. Ripley stopped by the other night to say goodbye to the old place. But I have a few more things to take care of with the university before I’m done there.

Brynlee

How are things with Isla and Kennedy?

Deacon

Not a conversation I feel like having over text.

I hit the FaceTime option and wait for Brynn to answer, but when she does, I wish I’d done it sooner. Her strawberry hair is piled high in a bun on top of her head, and bubbles cover her body. Her phone must be resting on something because she’s got a glass of wine in one hand, and she’s not holding the phone with the other.

“You didn’t tell me you were naked, red.” My voice is thick with want already. It only takes a split-second with this woman.

Her lips curve up behind her glass of red wine. “Sorry, Coach. I was unaware I had to tell you I was soaking in a tub while I was texting with you.”

“I mean, you don’t have to, but it definitely makes the texting more interesting,” I tell her before I lean back against my headboard. “What were you doing before I called?”

“Reading . . .” she answers coyly.

The blush that just rose up those pale cheeks tells a different story. “Reading what?”

“Grace and Everly’s aunt writes steamy romances. I just downloaded her newest book.”

“Steamy, huh?” I tease, wanting to know more. “Tell me about it.”

“Deacon—”

“Brynlee, I’m trying to get to know you. I told you what I read before bed. Now it’s your turn.”

She sips her wine and hides behind her glass. “It’s about a football player falling in love with an heiress.”

“You into football players, St. James?” Even saying that turns my fucking stomach. Apparently, when it comes to Brynlee, I’m a greedy son of a bitch, because I don’t even want some Fabio wanna-be to be her type.

“Not since a certain hockey coach caught my attention. Does it make me sound needy if I say I miss you? I mean, what the hell? I didn’t see you for a decade. How can I miss you? That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” she stammers in that adorable way she does when she gets nervous, and yeah, it probably shouldn’t, but it makes my dick hard.

“Hey, now. You’re talking to the guy who asked you to come to Boston with him. None of this really makes sense. But it doesn’t need to if it feels right to us.” I’ve done the relationship that made perfect sense before and ended up divorced. Just because something sounds good on paper doesn’t mean it’s good.

She puts her glass down out of my line of sight and leans back against some pillowy-looking thing as a strand of long hair spills down by her face. “I like that you’re in this with me, Deacon. I like that you’re man enough—confident enough—that you don’t make me feel stupid for saying something like that.”

“I’ll be back soon, Brynn, and when I get back, I’ll show you just how much I can make it feel right.” I lick my bottom lip, fucking hungry for her. “Where’s your hand, Brynlee?”

Her sexy little smile tips up on one side. “Wherever you want it to be, Deacon.”

“I want you to play with your clit, red. Circle it with your fingers, but don’t touch. Not yet.”

She moans softly as her hand moves under the bubbles. “I’d rather it was your hand.”

Fuck me.

I want all her orgasms.

“Soon, baby. Until then, you’re going to have to listen to me.” I fist my own cock under my shorts and enjoy the way my little redhead blushes so fucking easily. “I want you to trace that pretty pussy, baby. Just drag one finger up and down.”

“More, Deacon...” she whispers with her eyes locked on mine. Her other hand comes up out of the water and squeezes her breast that’s playing peak-a-boo with the bubbles. Her pale pink nipple peeks through, making my mouth water at the idea that there’s so much I’m not seeing. But my God, what I am seeing is fucking beautiful.

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