Page 50 of Heathen

"It looks good on you," he says, and I don't miss the gruff edge to his tone.

Cold chills coat my arms despite the warmth of the water as I step into the hot tub.

I give him an easy if not shy smile and cast my eyes out over the rest of the yard.

"How do you get used to a place like this?"

I look back at him when he doesn't answer. He's looking out over the backyard, as if he never even considered it being as luxurious as I see it.

"You grew up rich, didn't you?"

When his eyes meet mine, there isn't a hint of ego in them.

"I was born into a family that never had to struggle financially," he says, and I sort of understood as much from what we spoke about last night.

"This water feels amazing," I say, running my hands over the top of the water. "I find it surprising, considering how warm today was. I didn't think the hot tub would be enjoyable."

"But you joined me anyway," he counters.

I give him all my attention. My first instinct is to ask him why he's calling me out like he is, but I get distracted by the way the tip of his finger is swirling on the concrete decking surrounding the hot tub.

I force myself to look away and do my best not to let the action of his finger affect me in any way, but catching the sight of him still doing it from the corner of my eye leaves my body running much hotter than the water we're sitting in.

"Could you maybe not do that?" I ask, my tone a hint more aggressive than I had planned.

"What's that?" he asks, but the smile that expands across his face tells me he knows exactly what he's doing.

"That!" I snap, pointing to his hand, but the man doubles down.

Instead of stopping, he changes direction, rubbing the tip of his finger around and around. I swear I feel it all in my most intimate parts, half tickle and the other half creating this desperate need deep inside of me. I know the man won't be happy until he drives me completely insane, but I'll never tell him that he's already so very close to making it happen.

"It's not even making any noise," he argues. "Why does it bother you so much?"

I shake my head and open my mouth but no words come out. All I can manage is a swallow. At this point, I can't even pull my eyes away.

"You're infuriating," I mutter, eyes still locked on his hand and the tip of that one finger.

"Does it make you ache?"

Instinct tells me to nod, to tell him the truth, but thankfully, I still have some of my faculties.

"No," I say, forcing myself to look away. He chuckles when he catches the full-body tremor I have no hope of hiding from him.

"I can ease that for you, Kaylee," he promises. Just by the way he says it, I have no doubt the man is more than capable of taking care of me in that way.

A slight movement on his part is all it takes to draw my attention back to his hand, and I swear the man is getting so much pleasure from driving me mad. Instead of one finger, he now has two swirling around on the concrete. I'll be damned if it isn't the same two fingers I use when I'm alone in bed some nights.

He's infiltrated my psyche, and it takes all I have not to crawl into his lap and beg him to move that hand to my body.

Ache doesn't even begin to describe how it's making me feel. It's more like a burning need, a frenzied recklessness that's bubbling up inside of me.

All I can think about is his hands on me, his mouth ghosting over my skin.

I want to run away, but the need to beat him at his own game wins out.

Like a lazy cat needing attention but trying not to appear as such, I move in the water, my eyes locked on his face, andI fight the smile that threatens when in my periphery, I see his fingers pause.

"Kaylee," he whispers, as I press my hands to his knees on my way up his body.

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