I kicked off my flats and moved toward the pool. My jeans, cardigan, and tank top were removed in quick fashion and discarded onto an empty chair. “Get ready to pay up.” I strode to the deep end, staring at his amused expression from across the water. I unclasped my bra and shimmied out of my panties, tossing them in his direction. With a sweet, devious little smile, I said, “Remember, I want lots of pelvic thrusting action,” and then dove into the pool.
After savoring the warmth of the water, I broke the surface, resting my arms on the ledge, and grinned back at Kline. “Put your money where your mouth is, Brooks.”
He laughed, sliding off his boxer briefs and turning around. He started humming a striptease beat, glancing at me over his shoulder and grinning playfully. Kline proceeded to pelvic thrust, his hands resting behind his head and his grin turning cocky with each punch forward, not an ounce of embarrassment on his face. He was visibly enjoying himself, loving the growing smile on my lips, and he was crazy adorable yet insanely hot at the same time. I watched his tight ass and muscular thighs flex with each circuit. He kept it up until my giggles turned loud and uncontrolled.
He dove into the pool, slicing through the water in succinct maneuvers. He moved toward me, his hands finding my hips and signaling him that he had reached his target.
When he broke the surface, his face hovered mere inches from mine. Water dripped from his eyelashes, down his cheeks, and clung to the very tips of his spiky wet hair. “Are you ready to shove twenty-dollar bills in my g-string?”
“Eh, maybe one dollar bills?” I teased.
“One-dollar bills?” he asked. “Baby, I recall a lot of pelvic action back there.”
“Yeah, but…” I sighed “…I didn’t get the full-frontal experience.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll make note that you’re a fan of full frontal.”
I smiled, my cheeks damn near bursting with amusement.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, moving us in the water. It rippled into tiny waves around our bodies. “You know what you’re not a fan of?” he asked, brow quirking.
“Small wieners?”
His chest vibrated against my skin, laughter spilling from his lips. “Besides that. I’m well aware you’ve got an appetite for nothing smaller than a footlong.”
I giggled, savoring his teasing smile. “Tell me, Brooks, what am I not a fan of?”
“Emergency rooms.”
I tilted my head to the side, perplexed.
“You were really fucking adorable last night, slap-happy and high on Benny, but before you got to that point, I was worried.” His forehead touched mine. “I wanted to take you to St. Luke’s, but you’re pretty damn stubborn.”
The look in his eyes warmed my stomach. I couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine, the kind of shape I had been in last night. I could recall bits and pieces here and there, but for the most part, it seemed like a hazy dream. It had been our first real date. We barely knew each other outside of work, yet Kline hadn’t hesitated to take care of me. He hadn’t freaked out or gotten embarrassed that his date looked ridiculous. Because, let’s face it, I’d looked insane. Like someone had given me botched plastic surgery kind of crazy.
Last night, Kline hadn’t been focused on anything but making sure I was okay.
And it was apparent, he really was worried.
Those were not the actions of a man whose intentions were less than genuine.
He was different from anyone I had ever met, in the best way. In the span of forty-eight hours, he had somehow gained a large part of my trust. I wasn’t skeptical or scrutinizing his every word; I was merely enjoying feeling safe and cherished in his presence.
“My brother is an ER resident at St. Luke’s. He just so happened to be working a twenty-four-hour call shift last night,” I explained.
“Oh,” he said, understanding in his voice. “Now it makes sense.”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “He’s my older brother. My only sibling. And even though my lips were about to consume my face, no way in hell was I going to give him that kind of ammunition.” If I thought Will still bringing up “Masturbation Camp” was bad, my arriving in his ER looking like a blowfish would have made that never-ending joke look easy.
“Do you have any siblings?” I asked, curious to know more about him. The short amount of time we’d spent together outside of the office had me realizing every preconceived notion I’d had about Kline was dead wrong. Hell, his small, quaint apartment was evidence of that. It truly was not the kind of flashy, extravagant place I’d pictured him living in. Sure, it was nice, but it looked more like a place I would live in, not someone who had grossed nearly a billion dollars last year with just TapNext alone.
He shook his head. “Only child.”
“What are your parents like?”
“My mom is a meddler, but she means well. She’s actually the reason Walter is at my apartment.”
“Don’t you dare say anything bad about Walter,” I teased, pointing my finger at him.
“You try living with that asshole for a few weeks and see how it goes.”
“He is not an asshole. He’s a big, fluffy sweetheart,” I defended my feline friend, fighting the urge to grin.
Kline scoffed. “Yeah, he is. He’s the world’s worst cat.”
“Stop talking about my buddy Walter like that!”