I wasn’t looking forward to talking about Gutsy Girl, and I knew from her visit to Damien the other night that she was anxious for a photo op. Ugh.
I’d also made personal-sized quiches for any Fraser Farm employees I could find during the day. It wouldn’t hurt for word of my cooking prowess to spread. And yes, I was well aware that I was ingratiating myself to the staff so maybe some of them would champion my plan to buy the farm stand and convert it to a tearoom. But I don’t think anyone who tried my quiche today would complain about my techniques.
Now I wanted to write more of my book, so I could move closer to being with Damien. I opened my laptop to work on my manuscript, just as I’d promised him I would the night before.
Stepping into the fictional world felt like a way to be with Damien without risking too much yet. And I was dying to be closer to him. Memories of that kiss lit me up from the inside out, until all I could think about were his hands on me.
Too bad I had to give him over to sexy, confident Shaelynn first. But I knew it was safer to put my heroine with him before I took the chance myself. She could be my avatar. I just wanted to kind of...watch and see what happened. If that made me voyeuristic—or a chicken of the first order—that was okay. I picked up where I’d left off, once I’d gone back through the novel to tweak the stranger’s name:
...arching into D’s hand, Shaelynn moaned with the pleasure of his touch. He leaned in to kiss her, capturing the sounds she made with his lips while he knelt beside the tub. Forceful rivulets awakened a new heat inside her, her skin tingling with a hot shiver. Her nipples pebbled to tight peaks as she imagined D. joining her in the tub. Covering her. Settling between her thighs with muscular hips...
Oh. Yes.
Imagining him in the tub was nice. But wouldn’t it be even nicer if he actually joined her there? I tapped my chin and stared off into space, envisioning what it would be like. Then again, I didn’t have to completely rely on my imagination. Damien just happened to have a huge hot tub downstairs.
Could I go hop in the heated spa and let myself be creatively inspired? Plus, the hot tub would help me relax. The luxuries that were a part of Damien’s world had never been part of mine, so a soak among the jets would be an unprecedented treat.
Grabbing a towel and a hair clip, I carried them down to the spa, balancing them on my laptop. I wasn’t sure when Damien would be home, but I would get as much written as quickly as I could. I just hoped he didn’t mind me invading his space downstairs.
Not that I was headed into the master suite or anything, even though I’d seen a killer hot tub in there when I’d first explored the house. But there was also an indoor spa area in the lowest level, where the house had been built into a hillside. The back wall of windows looked out over a patio, pool and some scenic pastures. The space had a small bar and a game room decorated in rough-hewn woods lacquered smooth. Pendant lighting over the bar cast enough light on the hot tub. Steam wafted up as I toed the cover off, but the temperature wasn’t quite as hot as I wanted, so I flipped a nearby switch and waited for the water to warm up.
Setting my things down on the glazed redbrick surrounding the tub, I skimmed off my clothes and wrapped the thick Turkish terry cloth robe from my room around me, the plush cotton soft against my skin. I could have dug through my belongings to find a swimsuit, but I was writing an erotic story. Shaelynn hadn’t slid into that tub with her suit on and neither would I. She didn’t need to have all the fun first every single time. Tonight, she had Damien’s hands on her and I was going to be right there with her, imagining what it was like.
Stepping into the tub, I loosened my robe and let it fall down my shoulders. I kept the hem out of the water while I worked the rest of the cloth lower and lower. Thick steam rose off the water now that the heater had kicked in. I wriggled my toes in the bubbles and slid the robe the rest of the way off while I sank into the inviting warmth.
“Yes-s-s.” Silky heat enveloped me, and I hit the buttons for the jets and bubbles, increasing their speed and force. Grabbing the clip, I secured my hair.
Powerful surges of hot water soothed my muscles beneath the surface, while smaller bubbles burst near my nose like a tubful of champagne. I reclined on one of the built-in seats and let the magic happen. The sensations were hot, sensuous and entirely decadent.
Especially with snippets of my novel still running around in my head. How ironic was it that I’d started out writing a story about Shaelynn alone and lost in the woods when a gorgeous stranger found her. And the very next day, I broke down in the SUV, only to be rescued by Damien? I couldn’t shake the sense that my book was coming to life, which made it feel all the more daring to keep writing.