Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I don’t mince words. “You’re too damn decent for me. Take those shorts off and I’ll be better able to judge.”
He laughs lightly, then his smile fades. “Is that just a suggestion?”
Holy shit, he’s fiery. I need to know why. “You doing good? You’re kind of acting like…” I take a beat, trying to put my finger on it. “The night we met.”
Concern flashes in his eyes. “In what way?”
“You’re not holding back so much.”
He scoots up higher on the raft. “I had a successful trip. I’m in a good mood. I guess it wound me up a bit. I’ll stop.”
I hold up a hand. “Don’t stop. I am not complaining.”
“I can be businesslike,” he says, that cool tone returning.
“Whoa. I was just checking in. Making sure you were good. And there’s a whole country between us. Don’t stop,” I say, imploring him. “I like the way you were the night we met.”
“Yeah?” A hint of a smile returns.
I lean closer to the screen. “Maddox, flirt with me,” I command.
A shudder moves down his body. Dear God, this man is responsive.
“So, Zane. What did you want to talk about?” he asks so damn innocently as he stretches his long limbs, looking like sex on a raft.
No idea. My head is a haze. “Anything. We can talk about anything. Just don’t get out of the pool,” I say.
He drags his fingertips against the placid surface of the dark water, ripples forming in his seductive wake. “If you were here, you could join me…”
I like this game. “Mmm. And swim up to you on that raft. I’d park my arms there on the end.”
“Your hair would be all wet,” he muses. “Your chest, your abs.”
I groan. “You like that? A hard, wet man?”
He shudders out a breath. “When I’m in the shower, I picture you joining me, water sliding down your body,” he says, voice low and smoky as he drags a finger down his chest…between his pecs…along the grooves of his abs.
Holy fuck. Are we going to get it on via FaceTime? I’m not sure I could stop tonight if we started a little video sex. Especially since that bulge in his swim trunks is mouth-watering.
“Down my abs and straight to my cock,” I say, going for it.
Maddox swallows roughly. “Your hand on your dick. You staring at me,” he says as he follows me across the line into the danger zone.
Heat swarms my chest. “I wouldn’t stop looking at you. I can’t stop looking at you,” I say, then rub my palm against my aching erection.
“Good. Don’t stop,” he says, and his voice trembles with need. “I like when you look at me.”
“You’re so fucking sexy,” I say as lust consumes me. Screw caution. “Put your hand in your shorts.”
Maddox’s hand slides to his waistband, then he hesitates, closing his eyes. He’s at war with himself. Shit. I can’t push him.
“You don’t have—” The rest of the sentence dies on my tongue when his hand disappears inside his trunks.
He opens his eyes, locking those whiskey-colored irises with mine. “You like?”
I fucking love it, and I’m about to tell him so when there’s a loud knock on my door.
11
MY FAVORITE HABIT
Zane
Are you kidding me?
“Fuck me,” I mutter, dropping my head into my hand.
“Dude! The pool party is epic,” Gunnar calls from the hallway. “C’mon, Archer. Get your ass out here.”
I groan in misery, lifting my face to whisper, “It’s Gunnar.”
Face tinged with red, Maddox has already yanked his hand out of his trunks.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I whisper. “I will call you right back.”
He nods, and I hang up, then pull off my shirt, drag a hand through my hair, and make sure my dick is deflated.
Well, deflated enough.
I head to the door, opening it a few inches, affecting a bleary-eyed stare and a deep yawn. “Dude, phones. Have you ever heard of them?”
“C’mon. The guys in the pool are hot as fuck. You can rally.”
The only man I want to rally for is in Los Angeles. I whimper privately at the lost chance. “Next time,” I say, then I shut the door.
I take a big breath, annoyed, but weirdly relieved too. I don’t think I would have stopped the sex train tonight. I was this close to jerking it right there with my agent.
Call me crazy, but I want my hands on him the first time I get him off.
I blink, drag a hand through my hair.
Except that can’t happen.
But a phone call can.
I hurry back to the couch and call him again on video.
He’s sitting in a chair on his deck now, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Damn. I missed watching you get out of the water, Neptune style,” I say with exaggerated sadness.
“It was like a red-band bathing suit commercial when you hung up,” he deadpans.
He’s back to his usual form—sarcastic and clever.