Page 88 of Revolve
An unfamiliar heat pools in my stomach. “If you’re going to spray me with the sink hose, I will hit you with that pan.” I point to the cast iron on the stovetop. “And if that was a dirty joke, I will still hit you with the pan.”
He shakes his head. “I meant in the hot tub.”
I glance around as if someone might walk in. “You and me?” I ask in nearly a whisper.
“No one else is here. Are you wearing anything under that?” His tone is so casual it makes my pulse trip.
I follow his gaze down to my loose, cropped sweater and my gray yoga pants. His gaze lingers, and I hate that I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“Uh, yeah, I am,Mom,” I say, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck. “I don’t make a habit of going commando.”
“That makes one of us.”
I scrunch my face. “Ew. I am not going in your hot tub.”
He laughs. “I’m kidding. Come on, it’ll help the soreness.”
He’s already walking away, leaving me no room to argue. When he grabs us two towels and I follow him out the sliding doors, I see it. The hot tub’s got Aiden Crawford’s face all over it, with his Slink drink ad that I’ve seen in convenience stores.
My blood runs molten when Dylan pulls off his T-shirt, leaving him in the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen him wear. I let myself watch him, but when his eyes meet mine, I pivot. I shimmy out of my yoga pants, glad I wore matching underwear today. Instinctively, I try to cover my scars with my arm, but Dylan’s not looking at me, so Iquickly climb over the edge, and I nearly moan when I sink into the water, inch by inch.
“Feels good?” Dylan asks.
I throw my head back, arms resting on the edge. “So good.”
The only sounds between us are the bubbles and my occasional sigh of pleasure when the jets hit my calves or my glutes just right.
“Why are you all the way over there? You scared of me, Romanova?” he challenges.
I raise a brow. “Areyou?”
“Terrified.” He smirks, his searing gaze slipping to my chest.
A surge of confidence washes over me. I wade closer, until my knees touch his, and he watches me with unwavering intensity, his arms resting against the edge as he sits there like a fucking king.
The cool air prickles my skin, and I’m hyper-aware of his roaming eyes, taking in my red bra, the bare stretch of my stomach, and every part of me that I usually try to hide. His gaze doesn’t falter, but it doesn’t feel invasive. It’s reverent. Like he’s committing me to memory, inch by agonizing inch.
I want to lick the droplets off his chest. The thought almost makes me retreat completely, but I think the look in his eyes is to blame for whatever hypnosis makes me straddle him.
Dylan stills, then adjusts his hips before leaning even farther back with me on his lap. His gaze drops to my chest, then back up, so nonchalantly you wouldn’t think he’s got a half-naked girl sitting on his dick.
“Nice outfit,” he says.
I try to pretend his words don’t affect me, but the blush creeping up my neck betrays me. When I look at him again, he’s still watching me like I’m the only thing that matters. And that doesn’t scare me as much as it should.
“Didn’t know there was a dress code for your hot tub invite.”
“I’d prefer fully nude, but I don’t want to give the neighbors a free show.”
I glance around at the trees surrounding the yard. There’s no way anyone could see us. When I turn back to him, his eyes are on me, steady and intense, like he can read my thoughts.
He swallows, his voice thick. “You seem to be a fan of my lap.”
My lips hover over his. “Something like that.”
The steam from the hot tub coats our skin in a layer of moisture. Condensation drips down my chest and his, and I feel a heat building inside me. A hunger.
“What are you doing, Sierra?”
