Page 33 of Come With Me

He walks us into the master bathroom, and I gasp when I see what he’s done.

“Ayden...”

The lights are off, but candles are spread around on the vanity and counters, giving just enough dim lighting to see he drew me a bubble bath.

“What’s this?” I ask in disbelief. “When did you do this?”

“Earlier when you were on the phone with your mom. I’ve not been able to take care of you for ten years. When I found your candles and bubble bath stuff, I decided you deserved a break and some time to yourself. I’ll clean up the kitchen and do whatever else needs to be done. As long as you promise to relax in this tub for at least an hour.”

Opening my mouth, I shoot my gaze to his. He wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me into his chest when I try to argue. My palms flatten against him as my breath hitches. His eyes never leave mine as the corner of his lips tilts up in amusement, his mouth torturously close to mine.

“I found your little toy under the sink and thought you might wanna use it, so I placed it on a stack of towels next to the tub for you.” His low voice sends shivers down my spine, and then the reality of his words smacks me in my face.

Oh my God. I’m mortified.

Then he kisses my forehead and walks away, shutting the door behind him.

I don’t claim to be perfect, but when I slipped into the hot water and looked at the bullet he so nicely set out for me, I folded.

I won’t admit it to him, though.

He’ll just have to use his imagination if I did or not.

But goddamn, I’d never made myself come so many times in a row before.

That kiss, the sentiment of what he’d done for me, the teasing.

My body exploded.

Once I dry off and tie on my robe, I walk into my bedroom, fully expecting to see him waiting for me there.

What I get is so much better.

“What is this?”

“Thought you’d like some dessert after yourorgasmicbath.”

“Ayden Carson, that’s not funny...” My cheeks heat as a blush crawls down my neck.

“You don’t like peach cobbler?” He raises a brow, knowing damn well that’s not what I’m talking about.

“You know I do. How’d you get that anyway?”

“There’s this fancy little delivery app y’all have here...”

Laughing, I sit on the bed next to him with our dessert between us. “Y’all don’t have that on the ranch, I suppose?”

“Not unless Mrs. Hollis counts.”

I snicker, taking the fork when he hands it over. Then I take a bite and moan.

“Good, huh?”

“So good,” I hum. “I haven’t had this in ages.”

“It’s all yours, darlin’. Wanna Coke with that?” He stands.

“Wait, you aren’t havin’ some? I don’t mind sharin’.”

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