Twisted Fate (Dark Heart 2)

He moves closer, turning the hot water knob. “Wait” —I frown— “how did it not overflow?”

He smirks.

“You’re the bathtub angel.”

“L’angelo delle belle donne.”

“The angel of beautiful women.” I grin. “How many have you had in here?” I splash the water, and he chuckles.

“Scratch that,” I say. “I don’t want to know.”

He pulls a stool over beside the tub and sits on it, running a hand back through his hair. “Why’s that?” There’s a soft smile on his lips.

“Because I don’t want to know.”

“You let your guard down with me too much, rosa, for someone who’s afraid to hear this answer.”

“What, you mean what we did in the closet at the party?”

His eyes dip to the floor. “In every way.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t trust you?”

“No.” It’s so soft. I can see him chew the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the floor. “I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m gonna hit you with a quote I love from The Sopranos. Because tell me that’s not appropriate.”

He grins.

“Do you know it?”

He lifts a shoulder. “From The Sopranos?”

“I think it is.”

“Deserve’s got nothing to do with it,” he says in a perfect Clint Eastwood voice. Then he lifts his brows. “That’s from Unforgiven, rosa.”

“Drat. Well, still true.” I trace the creamy remnants of the bubbles in the water as I feel him watching me.

“No one’s been in there.”

“What?”

He’s still looking at his shoes—black Nikes—as he splays his hands in front of him with fingertips steepled.

“No one’s been in your tub? Since we saw each other at the cabins this past winter?”

He looks up, pinning me with his blue eyes. “No one’s been in my tub ever.”

I’m stunned silly, trying to remember when the deed said he bought this house.

“No one’s ever been in here.” He stands and walks out the door without a look back at me.26LucaGood job, dumbass. Hit her with some random heavy stuff when she’s sick and half asleep. Then walk out and leave her confused.

It takes a few minutes for me to go back in there. When I do, I find her sitting straight up, looking at the door with wide eyes and raised brows, as if she’s contemplating getting out and finding me.

“I’m sorry.” I drop my gaze down to my feet, feeling like a kid who hit a baseball through the window. “That was weird, right?”

Some noise comes from my throat—it’s like a laugh but not.

She grins, though, and lays her bare arm on the tub’s side, curling two fingers as if to say, come here.

I sit on the stool, and she says, “Come into the tub. Unless you’re scared of germs. And I think, actually, that’s really valid.”

I swallow and look up at her. “I got a flu shot.”

“Did you?”

She looks so surprised, it makes me laugh. “Believe it or not.”

“Socially responsible.”

I give her a small smirk. “I do what I can.”

She runs her palm over the surface of the water. “Come in. Now you’re out of excuses.”

I blink toward the ceiling, where recessed lighting casts a glow over the tub—like a spotlight.

“You don’t have to if you don’t—”

I stand and take my clothes off, moving slow and somewhat careful, mostly so she won’t notice the pink scar on my hip and ask about it again.

I go for the opposite side of the tub, thinking we can face each other, but she holds her hand out. In a soft voice, and with heavy-lidded eyes again, she says, “Behind me.” It’s almost a whisper.

You don’t want me behind you, I almost say, because my dick’s going to poke you in the back. But she smiles sweetly, like it means the world to her, me sitting behind her, and then she scoots forward.

“I want to be the little spoon,” she says, and fuck if I don’t want to give her that and anything else she asks for.

I settle in behind her, tucking my dick into the crevice between my hip and leg, where it stays for about three seconds before standing at attention. I shift my hips so I’m more reclined, try to tuck my damn erection over to the side, and wrap an arm sort of around her so she’ll lean against my chest, which she does. She sinks deeper into the water, which brings her ass flush with my dick, and then she reaches behind her and wraps her hand around it.

She gives a tinkling laugh. “I like how this guy is so predictable.” She strokes a few times, leaning against my chest as she traces the rim around my tip. “I like that he wants me…even though he shouldn’t. I’m about that, from him. He follows no rules.” With her other hand, she finds my hand and guides it in between her legs. And holy fuck, she folds my palm over her cunt.