Page 270 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
The water continues to fall, cooling my flushed skin, but I’m still warm, still buzzing with the aftermath of my release.
His arms wrap around me, holding me steady, his breath hot against my neck.
I smile weakly, my fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Your turn.”
“I don’t have a condom.” He presses his forehead against mine. “I left our clothes on the front porch.”
“Then take me inside.”
He scoops me into his arms.
45: BE A GOOD GIRL
HART
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“LAUNDRY WAS NOT the way I thought we’d be spending this day.” The dial clicks into place beneath my hand—cold wash, quick cycle.
Efficient. Easy.
I press start and step back as the motor kicks in, followed by the soft hiss of water rushing into the drum, and then the thud as the agitator begins to spin.
“I reckon,” I say, turning to Jade. “Bathing in honey wasn’t on my agenda either.”
She leans her buttocks on the dryer, arms crossed, wearing nothing but a robe. And I mean nothing. I know damn well I put her bra and panties in the washer, humming beside me.
Stark naked under there and damned, if my dick doesn’t twitch with the knowledge, telling my eyes to do an obvious sweep—which I happily oblige.
Fuck, the way my eyes drink her in, you’d think I hadn’t got laid twice in a damn hour.
The terry fabric of her robe is barely tied, hinting at everything but hiding way too much, and making it hard to think straight.
But it’s her face that stops me cold—that smirk.
“You really know how to use that thing.” She nods toward the washer, as if she’s impressed or surprised that I can add a scoop of detergent and turn a couple of dials.
I raise a brow. “You mean the washer, or what we did back in the guesthouse?”
“Making a woman come three times under my touch is good for my ego.”
Making her come?
Fucking paramount.
She laughs. “I’m talking about the laundry machine. Your efficient stain-cycle knowledge is turning me on.”
I lean a hip against the washer, arms folding across my chest. “What can I say? I’m a man of many domestic talents.”
“Mmm, a man who knows how to separate lights and darks. Do you also know how to load a dishwasher?”
“Please,” I say, mock offended. “My Ma taught me the old-fashioned way. We wash dishes by hand in our households. Men and women. You don’t get a free pass because you’re a dude.”
“I like the way your mama raised you.”
I take a step toward her. “Oh, yeah?”
She nods. “What other notable things should I know about?”
