Page 53 of Finding Out

“He’ll be trained soon”—I hoped to God—“and there to snuggle with you when I can’t be.”

She fell against me, molding into my chest. “No one would believe you’re this sweet.”

“Because I’m not sweet.” I wrapped my arms around her. “And we can’t leave him alone for too long because he’ll either pee on my shit or eat something that’s not food.”

She threw her head back, cackling. “I love that you got a dog.”

My heart pinched at those words. They almost sounded like what I wanted to hear, and yet they weren’t even close.

“You get the damn dog. I’ll get the bags.” I released her and headed for the shit she’d dropped when she arrived.

As I watched her over the next few hours, I wondered why I bothered to pay a trainer. The woman was a dog whisperer. Before the end of the night, she had Caffrey curled up and sound asleep by the heater on my roof deck after he’d pottied out back in the grass.

“It’ll be warm enough for him over there?” Wren asked, eyeing the sitting area where the puppy slept peacefully.

I popped the cork on the champagne and filled two flutes. Midnight was less than half an hour away, and we had Ryan Seacrest playing on my outdoor television so we wouldn’t miss the ball drop. Not that either of us seemed to be interested in the fanfare.

“I promise he’ll be perfectly content.” I pulled my shirt over my head. “That area.” I tipped my head toward the covered outdoor living space surrounded by slatted privacy walls. “Is always a balmy seventy. Unlike over here.” Shivering, I pulled back the hot tub cover. “Caffrey will be fine. Let’s get in before we freeze.”

“Fine.” She slipped her cover-up over her head, and my heart stopped.

Fuck me. Wren Jacobs in a black lace bikini was perfection. All smooth skin and sleek curves. There wasn’t a better view anywhere in the world.

I didn’t move. Like a statue frozen with a champagne flute in each hand, I watched as she climbed the steps and slowly slipped into the water, sending the steam rising off it swirling.

Sinking low, she groaned. “I love a hot tub.”

That word was driving. me crazy, she loved my dog and she loved my hot tub. But did she love me? I wanted her to love me. I swallowed. Because I loved her.

I blew out a breath, subconsciously I probably already knew this. But I hadn’t acknowledged the L word until this moment. I loved my daughter. I loved my job. I had loved my parents, and I’d worked to love my ex-wife. But Avery aside, loving someone or something had never come as easily as it did with Wren. It was like breathing. Like she was made for me to love.

“Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there and look hot as fuck with all the abs and shit?” She hadn’t opened her eyes and wasn’t looking at me, but her words boosted me anyway.

“Oh, I’m coming in, baby girl.” I rushed up the stairs and set the glasses in the cup holders. Then I slid into the steamy water next to her and hoisted her onto my lap, settling her ass against my already hardening cock. Gut tightening at the pressure, I kissed her pulse point. “How do you want to ring in the new year?” I asked into her hair.

“Mmm.” She tilted her head, causing my lips to drag along herskin. “I wouldn’t mind having you inside me while you moan my name.”

“WhileImoanyourname?”

She peered over her shoulder, her lips quirking mischievously.

I cocked a brow. “I think you have that backward.” I ghosted my hands up the soft skin of her stomach until I reached the underside of her breasts.

She rolled her hips once. “Prove it.”

“Oh, I’d love to.” Beneath the triangles of her bikini top, I found her nipples peaked. The wet material rubbed against the back of my hands as I pinched the tight buds. While I toyed with her, I peppered her neck with kisses, pausing below her ear, in the spot that made her squirm, and lapped at the hollow with my tongue.

Her chest rose and fell against my hands as her breathing quickened. She shifted on my lap, rubbing her ass against my aching cock.

Biting back a groan, I caressed her abdomen, teasing her until I found the top edge of her swimsuit bottoms.

She arched against me and rocked up, whimpering.

“What do you need?” I whispered against her ear.

A shiver worked its way through her. “You. I need you to touch me, Daddy Wilson.”

Fuck. Those words were fire in my veins. Without hesitation, I slipped my hand under the fabric and between her thighs. And when I slid my fingers through her lips, her breathing hitched. The second I dipped a finger inside her, she rocked against my palm.

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