Page 39 of Drown in You

He already loves her. We both do. “Ma has a bedroom ready for you.”

“It’s cute the way you say Ma.” The words are out of her mouth before she can think better of them.

“Yeah?” I smirk down at her.

“It’s just that little hint of Southern accent that sneaks in. Don’t get a big head about it.” She finally straightens, even as she continues scratching between Bud's ears. “Your house is huge.”

“Ma’s a judge. She makes good money.”

Not to mention my pops left her a million-dollar life insurance policy. She cried when she found out. Not from relief or happiness but because no amount of money could replace him. Nothing ever would.

Sienna’s attention drifts to a framed photo hung on the wall among Ma’s extensive collection. A wall devoted to memories. To ghosts. Her finger trails over the frame. “Is this your dad?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. A photo of Pop and nine-year-old me covered in mud we’d been flinging at each other. Ma snapped the photo while we were mid-laugh. Still one of my favorites of us. “That’s him.”

“You look just like him.” She smiles.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “You want to see your room?”

Sienna gets the hint and drops the subject, nodding. I lead the way upstairs, Bud’s paws clicking behind us.

When I open the door to her new room, her face lights up. There’s nothing in the world better than seeing her happy. “Wow. Your mom really outdid herself.”

She skims the white bedspread made of the softest Egyptian cotton and the matching silk pillowcase before hugging the blackout curtains like they’re her long-lost best friend. Now I’m jealous of fucking curtains. She swings open the double doors that lead to a walk-in closet before yanking on the bathroom door and gasping. “I can have my own bathroom?”

“Your own bathroom, your own room, your own TV.” I wink at her. “But we’re sharing a bed.”

She whirls on me, scowling even as her eyes are wide. “Luke, no?—”

“Come join me in the hot tub.”

Her lips purse and she folds her arms. “It’s thirty degrees out.”

I shrug. “Best time to use the hot tub.”

She shakes her head, grabbing the door and moving to shut it in my face. “No. I’m going to bed?—”

I slap a palm against the door, bracing it open with ease. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. Promise. At least until you beg for them all over you.”

“I won’t.” Her throat bobs as she scrambles to come up with another excuse to avoid me. “I don’t even have a swimsuit.”

I smirk. “You have a bra and panties.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not stripping down to my underwear in a hot tub with you.”

“What’s the difference between that and a bikini?” She doesn’t have a quick response to that. “Exactly. So come on—get your ass downstairs. The hot water will help you relax before bed.”

Without waiting for her to protest again, I leave her room to grab towels.

By the time I’ve been in the hot tub for ten minutes, Sienna still hasn’t showed. I’m about to head upstairs and drag her out when she finally makes an appearance.

My heart drops. She’s swapped her dress for my jersey, the hem reaching nearly to her knees.

“I hope you don’t mind I borrowed one of your shirts.” She scurries over to the hot tub across the frozen deck.

Jesus. She has no idea the effect seeing her in my jersey has on me. Beneath the bubbling water, my cock stiffens. The outline of her bra shows as she sinks into the water, and I wish she was naked beneath my jersey.

Silence falls between us as I fail to swallow the rock lodged in my throat at the sight of her. She briefly meets my gaze until her bashful green eyes flick away again, her fingers twirling around the end of her hair with restless energy.

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