“I want you too,” I say breathlessly. And then, as of one mind, we pull back and our gazes meet. I’m about to risk ruining the moment, but I can’t help it. “Can we take this inside?”
The enthusiastic nod she gives me tells me she agrees. After that, we are clumsily spilling out of the hot tub. She grabs our towels as I grab her hand and practically drag her toward the house. She yanks the sliding doors open and as soon as we’re inside and the cool air hits us, we shiver, but she’s back in my arms and I’m kissing her, devouring her. It’s a slow dance as we move across the room and find ourselves in the den. I don’t know how she has the clarity to get the towels down on the sectional, but she does, and then I’m on my knees in front of her and finally peeling her bathing suit off.
Then I simply fall back slightly on my heels and stare at her in awe. Every curve, every dip, every freckle…I want to take it all in.
But Olivia has other plans.
With her hand back in my hair, she gives me a gentle shake. “Like what you see?”
My throat is dry and all I can do is nod.
“Then take me, Ash. Now. Hard.”
I can’t move fast enough, but I get to my feet and quickly kick off my shorts and let her drag me down onto the sofa. The second we are skin to skin, we both let out sighs of relief.
And then there are more sighs and whispered pleas, the sound of skin against skin, and cries of pleasure echoing throughout the house. I swear we’re both being louder on purpose, but it makes me feel like some kind of god that I can make her feel this way.
And I’m already thinking about which room we’re going to do it in next.
13
OLIVIA
I don’t miss my friends.
There. I’ve said it.
Ash and I are sitting out on the deck having a late dinner after watching the sunset. After our romp in the den, we showered, and now I’m in a flowy strapless maxi dress, and he’s in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I left my hair loose and Sebastian’s is a little askew, and between that and his glasses, it’s been a real challenge not to crawl all over him.
We ordered a variety of dishes from a local seafood restaurant—shrimp tacos, fish and chips, lobster rolls, and some oysters on the half shell—and I swear it’s some of the best food I’ve eaten in ages.
“There is nothing like fresh seafood,” I say after taking another bite of my lobster roll. “I don’t take advantage of going to Pike Place Fish Market nearly as much as I should since I moved to Seattle, but I could never cook anything that tastes like all of this.”
“Personally, I think all food tastes better when someone else makes it. And that includes parents and grandparents. My grandmother makes the best meatballs. It’s crazy. Like…I eat Italian food a lot and I have never had a meatball as good as hers.”
I nod because I totally get it. “My nana used to make homemade pasta all the time. When I was little, I would make it with her. No one in my family makes it like she did. My dad tries, but I have to just humor him because it’s not the same. It’s sweet that he tries, though.”
“What about you? What’s a dish that you cook that you think is the best?”
The laugh is out before I can stop it. “I don’t think I have anything like that. I don’t mind cooking, but I don’t love it. And when I’m deep into a book, I survive on takeout and snacks.”
“But if you were going to make yourself something, what would it be?”
“Hmm…a lot of times when I finish writing a book, I grill myself a steak—filet mignon—and have a baked sweet potato dressed with butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar with it, and a salad with honey mustard dressing and lots of croutons. I don’t know why I love that combination so much, but I do!”
“It actually sounds fantastic! I love a good steak no matter what the occasion, but those sides sound delicious.”
“When everyone comes back, let’s plan on a night where we make that, but we won’t tell anyone why.” I wink at Sebastian and love the way he smiles back at me.
We are completely relaxed, and the conversation hasn’t stopped. It’s like we’re on this extended date and every minute is precious to me. The break from reality is such a great opportunity for us to get to know each other even more.
From that first comment on the plane, I found it easy to talk to him. Every conversation—no matter what the topic—reminds me of how this kind of connection doesn’t happen every day. I can’t even remember the last guy I dated who I had such random discussions with that just flowed from one topic to another.
I swear I’ve found my person.
Unfortunately—because yes, I do tend to lean toward being a pessimist—there’s a clock ticking on our time together. Next week, he’s going to leave with Mike and Zayne, and I’ll be here. He’s going to return to work and possibly come back for the additional weekends I’ll be here with the girls, and then I’m flying back to Seattle.
Alone.
