Page 23 of Princessa
Chapter 15
When the distinct ringtone came through, my lips kicked up into a grin wider than a horse’s ass.
FaceTime call from Arabella?While she’s taking a bubble bath?
Sign. Me. The. Fuck. Up.
Heart a hot beating-against-my-chest mess, I didn’t care that my skin was still dripping wet, hair barely dry, or that the only thing covering the lower half of my semi-aroused body was a towel. Tapping connect call, I waited with bated breath to see Arabella’s gorgeous face.
“Hey, there.” Her cheeks were flushed as she sat in a cloud of bubbles, hair up in the cutest-ever bun. “Told ya I was taking a bath.”
“Well, believe it or not, before I texted you, I’d just stepped out of the shower.” Lounging on the bed, I propped my back up against the headboard.
“Is that why you’re all dolled up in fancy bare-chested attire?”
I chuckled. “Yes, but wait a sec while I at least throw on a T-shirt. Wouldn’t want you to lose your mind over my wet-hot tattoo.”
Arabella giggled, then brought a glass of what I assumed was red wine to her mouth. “If you must.”
Setting my phone on the bed, I grabbed my T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Seeing her in the tub made it hard—yes,hard—for me not to be turned on at the sight of what I imagined to be a scrumptious-when-naked Arabella under that thick layer of bubbles. But for the sake of our code of friendship, I again ordered my cock to stand down—his new nickname: Blue Balls Spike.
Once dressed and back on the bed, I resumed our video chat. “So, do you make it a habit of video chatting with guys while you’re taking a bubble bath?”
For the first time ever, Arabella cooked up a cheeky smirk. “Do you make it a habit of answering said video chat calls from women who first disclosed they were taking a bubble bath?”
I tossed my head back in a chortle. “Ever think of being a lawyer? That spin-the-question thing you just did would have won you a case.”
“Nah. However, I have earned a rather respectable degree inLaw and Order-isms that comes in handy whenever I need to spruce up my banter game.”
We laughed together then sat there in silence, gazes combustible, even through the screen.
“What are your plans after the bubble bath?”
“Um, I don’t really have any plans.” She batted her sinfully-long lashes as she looked away. Bashful. Innocent.
“Come to dinner with me.” My voice sounded gruff, only because I was battling pent-up desire.
“Are you askin’ or tellin’?” Her accent, coupled with a sultry-coy expression, almost drove me insane enough to lick my phone.
“Whichever will make you say yes.”
“Well, I am hungry.”
The clearing of my throat was a kill switch to the enthusiasm dying to burst free. “Can you meet me in the lobby near the entrance that leads to the beach in about an hour?”
Her one-shoulder shrug suggested hesitation while the sparkle in her eyes told me otherwise. “See you in an hour.”
“One more thing,” I added before ending our video call. “Let’s make this ultra casual; wear something comfortable and warm.”
So…Ilied.
When I told Arabella I’d never watched the telenovela,Síntomas De Amor,with dear old Mom, I lied.
Truth is, I did watch one or two—okay, maybe all eighty-seven—episodes of the dramatic television drama, and guess what? So did my father. We sat there, once a week with Mom, eyes and ears bleeding from the over-the-top train wreck, because it’s what she asked us to do.
Cardona men will do anything for a woman we love.
Anyway, while watching the sappy soap, there happened to be this mushy scene I hoped to someday recreate, should the opportunity present itself.
