Page 30 of Cherry Beats

“That’s entirely up to you, Cherry.” The smirk in his voice made all my clothes want to drop to the floor.

“Are you going to behave?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I want you to stop answering my questions with another question.”

His throaty chuckle floated over to me before I heard him sink into the bath. “I’ll behave.”

“Are you covered up?”

“Fuck, it’s hot.”

“Presley!”

“You have no idea how it feels to dip your balls into boiling hot bubbles, Cherry. Give me a minute or you’re gonna walk in and see me cupping my balls in my hand and gasping like the way I made you gasp when I had my face buried in between your arse cheeks.”

“Holy mother of Bryan Adams,” I whispered to myself, carefully dropping my head to the door as quietly as I could manage. Itdefinitelywasn’t safe for me to go in there.

“Okay, you can come in now.”

That’s probably when I should have turned and walked away.

I pushed the door open and let it bang against the white tiles of the wall. My eyes went everywhere; over his broad shoulders, tanned skin, perfect chest, ridiculously ripped stomach, down to his toned, muscly thighs before eventually rising back up to his face, where that cheeky smirk the world didn’t get to see too often was aimed directly at me. Presley had scraped his hair back into one of those man bun things I usually hated. Topknot wankers were a pet peeve of mine, but of course, this man in front of me rocked it like he’d invented it. A stray section of his hair had fallen from the front, making him look like sex in a bathtub.

“Want to get in?” He arched a brow.

Leaning against the doorframe, I folded my arms across my chest. “I don’t think the two of us would fit in there.”

“Feel free to sit on me.”

“I wouldn’t want to squash… things.”

“Pretty sure we were created to slot together perfectly.”

“You love trying to make me feel uncomfortable, don’t you?”

Presley let his head fall back against the edge of the tub, his body sliding down farther before he rolled his face in my direction. “Nope. I just didn’t realise we had to pretend we’d never fucked when I saw you again.”

“Fucked?Nice.”

“Whatever you want to call it, it was still beautiful to me. Deal with it.”

I inhaled slowly, which forced my nipples to push against my T-shirt and my body to tingle. There was nothing I could say to that.

“Do you regret it?” he asked softly.

“Sometimes.”

“Ouch.” He winced. “My ego.”

“Sorry.”

“Why? Why do you regret it?”

“You know why.”

“Say it out loud for me because I’ve lived a lot since I was last with you and sometimes, I think I remember it all wrong. Sometimes I think that as time passed, I’ve morphed it into this thing that it wasn’t—into something bigger. Something I was there for, but you obviously weren’t, because if you’d have experienced what I experienced, there was no way you could have left me the next morning.”

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