Page 21 of Red Hot Mountain Man
I gave up working around four. Locked up the workshop and started the walk back to the house.
I told myself I’d just check on her. Make sure she was okay. Then I’d go to my room, take a cold shower, and pull myself together before dinner.
That was the plan.
The plan lasted exactly as long as it took me to walk around the side of the house and see her.
On the back deck.
In my hot tub.
Wearing a thin white t-shirt that was doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that she was soaking wet.
I stopped dead.
She didn’t see me at first. Her eyes were closed, head tipped back against the edge of the tub. The steam rose in white wisps, and the wet fabric clung to her like a second skin.
Her breasts were heavy and full, the wet fabric clinging to them like a fucking gift. I could see the shape of her nipples through the cotton of her shirt and the lace of her bra. I could see the way her body curved under the water.
I wanted my mouth on every inch of her.
I wanted to drag her out of that tub and bend her over the nearest surface. Wanted to push that wet t-shirt up over her breasts and bury my face between them. I wanted to feel those thighs squeezing my head while I tasted her.
Rule #4: Sometimes karma needs a little assistance.
She opened her eyes slowly, like she could feel me watching and found me standing at the edge of the deck.
Watching.
She didn’t startle. Didn’t try to cover herself. Just smiled, slow and a little embarrassed.
“I didn’t pack a swimsuit,” she said. “I hope this is okay.”
“It’s fine.” I didn’t recognize my own voice.
“You’re not going to lecture me about white t-shirts and water?”
“I’m enjoying the view.”
“Touché, mountain man.” She grinned at me. “I’m pretending you can’t see anything.”
“It’s not working. You might as well be wearing cellophane, sweetheart. And if you keep smiling at me like that, I’m going to give you a real reason to blush.”
She closed her eyes again, the smile lingering. “I was afraid of that.”
I stood there at the edge of the tub, completely undone by the sight of her. She’d let her hair down and the water made her hair curl. The steam flushed her cheeks. The t-shirt clung to her.
She looked like a damn sea siren come to lure me to her bed. The only place I wanted to be.
“Bridger?” she said without opening her eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to get in?”
Rule #2: Get the hell away from her… and stay away.
I was making rules of my own now and breaking them as fast as I made them.
