Page 67 of Set on You

I watch tepidly as he sneaks in, wedging his broad shoulders through the window, landing gracefully inside.

He evaluates the unfinished basement and then glances up at me, arms outstretched. “Get over here,” he orders, low and gravelly.

I take one last look around to ensure there are no witnesses before sliding through the window, legs first, straight into his arms. I revel in the feeling of his hard body against mine. “We broke in.”

He grins, proud of our criminality. He holds me for a beat, his hand stroking the small of my back. The intensity of his eyes holds me in place. His gaze flickers to my lips and I brace myself for a hot, adrenaline-rush kiss—derived from the excitement of breaking the law. He bends his chin, lowering his lips an inch from mine, hovering for a moment before abruptly turning his back. He jogs up the stairs two at a time, callously depriving me of his touch.

The moment my feet hit the main floor, we’re off. We run from one room to another, practically flying through the house, our laughter echoing off the barren walls. The home is essentially finished, aside from a few piles of extra wood planks and sawdust sprinkling the floors. This particular model boasts gleaming brown-gray hardwood, an all-white, gleaming kitchen, and a beautiful open layout. There are four bedrooms upstairs, with a huge claw-foot tub in the master bedroom en suite.

We climb into the tub, sitting opposite each other. His long legs take up the entire space, making it impossible not to tangle together.

I laugh, unable to get comfortable. “This arrangement doesn’t work. You’re too tall.”

He waves me toward him. “Come here. Sit with your back to me.”

I dry-swallow, digesting the fact that he wants me to sit between his legs as if we’re a pair of handsy teenagers in the back of a pickup truck at a drive-in movie. I raise my brow at his highly erotic suggestion. “We’d be touching.”

“Nah. Doesn’t count. It’s for practical purposes.” He flashes his mesmerizing grin. “I won’t touch you. I promise.”

I eye him suspiciously before spinning myself around faster than an amateur break-dancer. I settle in between his strong legs, leaning against his chest. Eyes closed, I take in his delicious scent, wishing I could bottle it and spritz it around everywhere I go. I bet I could even patent it and make millions.

It’s a bit awkward with his hands at his sides, settled on his knees, not touching me. But if this is as close as we can get, I’m not going to complain.

“I want a house like this one day.” I close my eyes as I clasp thecold edges of the tub, letting out a small, mildly pornographic moan. The muscles in his thighs clench around me and he promptly shifts back slightly. I smile, because I know I’m not the only one struggling here.

“If you had a house like this, you’d never leave,” he chuckles.

I let my head fall against his firm chest. “True. And neither would you.”

“How would you decorate each room?”

“I’ve always wanted a velvet green couch. Maybe some sort of gold, green, and beige-y theme in the family room. The kitchen’s perfect as it is, white and gray. I’ve always loved darker colors for the master. And then fun colors for the kids’ rooms.”

“Oh yeah? How many kids?”

I purse my lips in thought. “Two. A boy and a girl.”

“I’m having at least three. And obviously at least two dogs,” he says, deadpan.

I nearly choke. “At leastthree children? You’ll require a mom van.”

He shrugs, as if cool with it. “The full seven-seater.”

I laugh, picturing him as a suburban dad in a minivan. He gives me more of a sporty SUV vibe, but the image is hilarious nonetheless. Now that I’ve envisioned him as a sexy-as-sin domestic dad, there’s no unseeing it.

“I want a pool.” He waves his hand toward the round window beside the tub, which overlooks the sizable, un-sodded backyard. “We had a pool when we moved to Boston. Though my dad always complained about cleaning it.”

“Who needs a pool when you have a bathtub like this?” I resettle, making myself at home against his chest, pressing farther against him.

He swallows against the back of my head, but he doesn’t move. In fact, I feel the full brunt of his enthusiasm. His breathing goes ragged against me.

I smile, pleased with myself, continuing on as if none the wiser. “Baths are essential to my health and well-being.”

“Yeah? What do you like about them?” His voice comes out strained.

I tilt my head in consideration and turn back around, repositioning so we’re facing each other again. “They’re relaxing. With a candle, music, bubbles, oils... and soap. Just lathering myself...” I lean back against the opposite end of the tub, imagining the warm water lapping against my bare skin, the mixture of the fruity, citrus scent of my soap and the blossom scent of my candle.

“Show me,” he commands, eyes locked to mine.

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