The water was cold—only reason, I tell myself.
I can feel a blush warm my face and neck, my pulse throbbing in certain unmentionable locations. Part of me—the one that didn’t exist until Kingston arrived—wants to stand here, let him look his fill, and wait out his next move, reveling in the anticipation.
But logical Echo, who knows what can and cannot be, wins. Which is why she decides to lighten things up with a sarcastic remark.
“Please,” I jeer with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m an eleven.”
At first, his eyes widen in shock. I’m pretty surprised I said it myself. But slowly, his gray irises turn molten, and a sexy smile curves his whole mouth.
“Indeed you are, Love. Indeed you are.”
So my comment has the opposite effect I almost have myself convinced I truly intended, only amping up my breathing and the desire in his stare.
“Kingston…” I whisper in warning—to both of us.
“Right.” He shakes his head as though to clear it. “I’ll go get you a towel.”
~~~~~
Kingston brings me a towel then disappears into the bathroom immediately, where I hear water running. Is he taking a bath?
Annoyed, I’m tempted to beat on the door and ask. One would think it’d be obvious to let me take a shower first, but it sounds like Kingston beat me to it while I stalled in my room, avoiding…well, everything. And I’m certainly not going to change clothes before I get to really clean up, considering the “hosing” didn’t do that good a job—which leaves me standing here, unsure of what to do until he’s finished with his selfish soak.
So I brave something I haven’t in far too long: I open the double French doors and step out onto the balcony connected to my room. I’ve always thought it “whimsical” to have a balcony, even though I never took advantage of it.
It’s turning into a beautiful evening—not too hot or cold, the darkening sky filling with brilliant spots of post-rainstorm light. I inhale a lungful of air and send a silent thought to my brother, who’s out there somewhere, hopefully navigating his way through these new arrangements better than I am.
“Done so soon?” I say with a soft laugh, somewhat surprised to find myself not only so attuned to his approach but comfortable with it. “I heard you sneak up this time. Not so stealthy without your water hose.” I speak into the darkness, my back still to him.
“That was my intention. I thought it best not to scare you, arse over tit, off a balcony.” He closes in, and my body responds immediately. He touches my shoulder gently, persuading me to face him. “I’ve sorted a surprise for you. Come with me.”
My mind goes hazy as I take him in, barefoot in only pajama pants, and I follow him without hesitation or argument.
He leads me by the hand into our shared bathroom, where a drawn bath awaits: one complete with heavenly scented bubbles up to the rim, and several lit candles surrounding it.
“W-what’s all this?” I stammer, heavy-tongued.
I lower my eyes, but that only serves in letting my gaze slide down his toned chest and arms—as well as his flat stomach, adorned with a single line of dark hair disappearing into his waistband—so I raise them right back up again.
He smirks, not having missed what just happened. “It’s a happy ending. I wanted our day to go well, but I somehow managed to get you trapped in a storm, on your arse in the mud, and then attacked you with a water hose. I’m hoping this,” he says, spreading out his arms, “makes up for all that, and salvages ending the day on a happy note.”
The ambiance is provocative, and it takes me longer than it should to respond.
“Th-thank you, Kingston. This is very nice. I, uh…appreciate it. And believe it or not, I actually had a lot of fun today.”
We both stand in silence for an awkward amount of time. The next move seems obvious to me, but I guess not to everyone in the room, since he’s not moving.
“You can, um…go now,” I try to say as politely as possible.
Those full lips of his curl slowly, the resulting sexy smile setting a tone I don’t think I’ll be able to resist for very long.
“I have a better idea, if I may?”
“What?” I ask quickly and quietly, past suddenly dry lips and a racing pulse.
“I thought I could stay…keep you company? If you were to wear that little pink bikini you have, anyway.” He arches one brow, his eyes alive with mischief. “You wouldn’t be lonely, and I’d finally get to see you in something pink. Seems a win-win to me.”
“Did you go through my drawers again?” I ask calmly, far too engrossed in this prelude to be offended.
“No, I did a thorough check the first time. But you no longer seem too upset at the thought that I might have.” He grins. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“Hell if I know,” I lie, shrugging in time with his hearty laugh. “Okay, my bath’s getting cold. You can sit on the counter and talk to me, while I wear a bathing suit, but you are not getting in with me. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”