Counterfeit Love

"That sounds almost like a... challenge to me," she decided, finally taking a bite of her food. "What is the worst movie I've ever seen? No, what is the movie I like that would make your eyes bleed?" she asked, stabbing more lettuce.

"You give that some thought, doll. I'll get the hot tub set up, and make the drinks."

About half an hour later, I was standing on the deck waiting for her, drinks set into the holders in the hot tub.

The doors opened, bringing her out in one of the robes from the bathroom, lips curled up in a victorious grin.

"I don't think I like that look," I told her as she moved past me toward the TV I had found in the cabinet.

"I have found a way to make your eyes and your ears bleed," she informed me, screwing around for a minute before she got the movie to play. "Mamma Mia!" she declared, whipping around, fucking beaming.

I'd told her no to three separate, obnoxious ABBA songs on the ride up. And I had a feeling all of those songs would be in this movie.

Christ.

"You're good, dollface," I said, shaking my head.

"Ah, how's the, um, water?" she asked, coming to stand near me, shifting her feet nervously.

Figuring it was about the whole getting half-naked part, I reached for my shirt, hauling it up and off, tossing it to the side.

"One-hundred-and-one. Perfect," I told her, undoing my button and zip, noticing her eyes sliding down my chest, stomach, landing at my hips as I shucked off my jeans leaving me in nothing but black boxer briefs.

I suddenly wished I was a normal boxers sort of man, figuring the looser material would likely make her more comfortable.

Deciding to make it easier, I hopped into the hot tub, hiding everything from the chest down. Which was a good move. Because when she took a deep breath and threw off her robe, my cock stiffened almost immediately.

She'd decided against a bra and panties, going instead with a tight black tank top and a pair of boy short panties in the same color.

A little more covered, yet leaving little to the imagination with the clinging material, with the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples pointing slightly through the tank.

"Come on in, doll," I invited, voice a little rough. I needed her in and more covered.

Because my mind was going all sorts of places I knew it had no business going.

With that, she moved over to the other side, stepping onto the stool placed there, and climbing in.

Fuck.

Not much better.

Because what did tits do in the water? Stood tall and proud, and demanding appreciation.

I reached for my drink, knowing I was going to need it.

If anything, I was thankful for the mental torture of her movie choice. At least it was a distraction from staring at her, focusing on the fact that she was half-naked and I was half-naked and there was something undeniably sexy about a goddamn hot tub.

But an hour and a half and three drinks later, Chris had moved to rest on the built-in chaise. And each time she took a deep breath, her breasts bobbed up over the surface of the water. Her warmth-accustomed nipples immediately pebbling at the shock of cold.

And my cock was still miserable.

"Are you alright over there?" Chris asked, delight in her voice, likely thinking my discomfort had everything to do with the movie, and nothing to do with her being damn near shoulder-to-shoulder with me now.

"You're a wicked woman, doll," I told her, watching as her smile curved up higher, making the edges of her eyes crinkle.

"It's a cute movie," she insisted.

"It wasn't awful," I allowed. "And I might prefer the covers to the originals. But not even this movie could redeem Dancing Queen, babe."

"Alright, I admit, that song even drives me a little crazy," she told me, sliding up on the bench, arm brushing mine.

My gaze should have been sliding down to her breasts again, but my eyes went to her face, looking for any sign of discomfort with the way her arm was now pressed against mine, shoulder to elbow.

But, as far as I could tell, there was none.

I reached out, slipping my hand under hers, fingers curling between hers, closing, squeezing.

Chris took a long, deep breath, her lips parting. But no tensing. No discomfort.

The small squeeze back from her was all the proof I needed that my observations were right.

"Doll?" I asked, voice a husky sound.

When her head turned, there was no mistaking the heaviness in her eyelids, the way her breathing was fast and shallow.

That was desire.

The problem was that even if she felt it, I didn't know how she felt about feeling it.

Luckily, surprisingly, almost unbelievably, her other arm lifted as her body twisted more fully toward me.