Page 40 of The Rival (Looking to Score 2)
Aspen’s gaze falls from mine and returns to her book. The sting of her rejection, which I’m definitely not accustomed to, hurts more than I care to admit.
“Hey, uh, can we talk? When you’re done with your book?”
She looks down, seeming to realize for the first time that she’s on the last few pages, and then back up at me. “Sure.”
“On the deck. Maybe fifteen minutes?”
“Okay,” she says, but there’s no joy in her voice.
Fifteen minutes later, true to her word, Aspen joins me outside on the deck.
I’ve lifted the cover off the hot tub and stored it on the side of the house. A bottle of wine and a single wineglass rest on a small table beside the sunken hot tub—along with a plate of cheese and crackers, and a bunch of purple grapes.
“What’s this?” she asks, stopping like she’s afraid to come any closer.
“For you. I’ve heated it so it should be warm.” I tip my chin toward the hot tub, which bubbles and steams in the cooling, early evening air. “It’s my attempt at apologizing,” I say sheepishly. “I never meant to upset you.”
Aspen nods once. “Is that my dinner?” She eyes the wine and platter I’ve prepared for her.
“If you want it to be.”
“Thank you,” she says, wandering closer. She dips her fingers into the water to test the temperature and makes a pleased sound. Saint told me this thing heats fast, and I’m glad he wasn’t wrong. “I guess I’ll get my suit on.”
When she turns for the door, she pauses and then faces me again. “For the record, you didn’t upset me. But you did make me feel like I was nothing more than a used Kleenex. So, yeah.”
I wince. “I am so sorry about that. I promise that was not my intention. I fucked up. Majorly.”
She nods in agreement and then disappears inside to change into her swimsuit.
A few minutes later, Aspen returns dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe and a pair of pink slippers. When she unties the robe and slides it off her shoulders, I nearly swallow my tongue. Because damn, she does not fight fair. She’s wearing a bright red one-piece that dips low in front to show off her ample cleavage.
I make myself scarce while she disrobes and climbs into the warm water. Mentally, I’m not strong enough to watch that play out. The sound of relief pushing past her lips makes my balls ache.
Once she’s submerged, I pour her a glass of wine and hand it to her. “Thanks,” she murmurs. Then I gather some towels and set them beside the hot tub in a chair.
“Okay. Enjoy. I’m going to go make a sandwich or something.”
She nods, and I head for the door, but before I reach it, she clears her throat.
“Alex?”
I turn around quickly. “Yes?”
“Thanks. And, um, if you want to join me . . . there’s plenty of room.” As if to prove her point, she wiggles her toes on the far end of the hot tub.
“You sure?” I ask, surprise filling my tone. My God, this is such a bad idea, stacked on top of my last bad idea. But I can hardly bring myself to care.
She nods.
Before she can change her mind, I dash upstairs and strip out of my clothes so fast, I practically set a world record. Less than a minute later, I’m easing into the water beside her, while Aspen makes an amused noise that sounds a lot like laughter.
The top of her breasts are visible in the water, and I force my eyes away, but it’s too late. I can’t exactly help the fact that my dick is now hard.
Terrific. The little fucker has terrible timing. It’s not like I can climb out of the hot tub right now and go jerk off . . . or ask Aspen to take care of it. Although, the idea of that is more than a little arousing. Aspen’s small, manicured hand being the one to work my dick, rather than my own calloused one.
Down, boy. That ship has sailed.
In fact, you torpedoed it. Dumbass.
“This is nice,” she says, leaning her head against the edge of the hot tub and closing her eyes briefly.
“Yeah. And . . .” I release a slow exhale and her eyes open, finding mine. “I really am sorry. The truth is, I don’t know why I said the shit I did this morning. I enjoyed every single thing about last night.”
Aspen brings her wineglass to her lips, watching me. Waiting for me to continue.
“And I guess I just thought, let’s leave it there, with a happy memory to remember it by. I didn’t want to mess that up.”
“Okay,” she says softly.
“In case you haven’t heard—I’m a fuckup. So, messing up somehow was inevitable.”
She shifts. “Do you really believe that?”
