Page 30 of Bitter Rival

“This was a matching set until my boyfriend ripped the panties straight off my body. Just tore them in two.” I demonstrate with my hands how my fictional boyfriend tore them off my body. And then I throw my hand into the air like I’m tossing the panties over the side of the hot tub.

“Shredded the material.” I give him a dreamy smile as my eyes drift shut. “That was a fun night.”

“I’ll bet,” Beckett says with the same level of enthusiasm as if I’d just delivered the weather report.

I’m sticking to my theory that he’s a robot and sex would be strictly missionary and completely underwhelming.

He shifts position and his leg brushes mine, sending shivers up my spine. I’m pretty sure I’m still chilly from the outside temperature, and it has absolutely nothing to do with him whatsoever.

When he twists his body and leans over the side, reaching for something, he creates a tsunami in the hot tub. After downing the wine in his glass, he pours the rest from the bottle and tosses it over his shoulder, facing forward, glass in hand.

“You’re a high-functioning alcoholic, aren’t you?” I ask pleasantly, nodding like I’ve got him all figured out.

“I need all the alcohol I can get to survive the next few months,” he mutters. So dramatic. “But that’s rich coming from the girl who got home at four in the morning, drunk off her ass.”

He must have been the one who covered me with a blanket. I lower my head to hide the smile.

Although I’m probably giving him too much credit. Beckett would never do anything that sweet. Most likely it was Grayson.

“By the time I got home, I was as sober as a church mouse,” I inform him.

“Sure you were.” He spreads out even more, shrinking the space around me so I’m forced into a tiny pocket.

Huffing, I narrow my eyes on him. This hot tub is big enough to accommodate four normal-sized people, but he’s making it feel too crowded for two.

He raises his brows. I am the master of the universe and everything, including this hot tub, is mine. Deal with it.

In the blue glow of the LED lights, he looks even more fiendish than usual.

“You have tons of space. Stop encroaching on mine.” I shove his leg with the heel of my foot, and he smirks as his leg drifts back to the exact same spot.

“What’s wrong, Daisy? You act like you’ve never been in a hot tub with a guy before.”

My gaze dips from his broad shoulders to his sculpted abs and down lower to the happy trail that leads to…whatever he’s got under the waistband of his swim trunks.

If Callie’s theory is correct, his dick is just as big as the rest of him.

“I’ve never been in a hot tub with someone so…big.”

As soon as the words are out, I regret them. Of all the adjectives I could have chosen, I had to go with big?

This mouth should really come with a filter.

He gives me his filthiest smile. “You noticed, huh?”

“Don’t look so smug.” I stare at the stars reeling above our heads. “Men with giant penises are a huge turnoff. I once dated a guy who was so big it was painful and not in a sexy way either.” I shudder at the memory.

Sean was the worst. I was on the rebound after Finn stomped all over my heart. A particularly low period in my life before I got my act together and took a hiatus from men to work on myself.

Sean is a sculptor, and I was captivated by his art. Unfortunately, the man didn’t live up to the myth. Not by a long shot.

“He sounds like an asshole.”

I’m not sure what gives him the right to call anyone an asshole when he’s the biggest one I’ve ever met. “And you’re not?” I challenge.

“Not the kind of asshole who would hurt a woman with my giant penis. If it hurt, he was obviously doing it wrong,” he replies, his voice lower, huskier.

His eyes are at half-mast, and he looks positively filthy.

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