“Come here,” she whispers.
All my uncertainty disappears behind a haze of lust. I push into the bathroom and kick the door closed behind me. I wouldn’t think there’d be anything sexier than that bikini, but Stella’s confident grin definitely tops it. And her freckles—she has new ones dusting the bridge of her nose.
“This is crazy,” I whisper, but my hands are already on her sweat-slicked skin—palms on her stomach and sliding around to her back, pulling her against my bare chest. Holy hell, she feels good. Soft and warm. Perfect and . . . dangerous. “What are we doing?”
“I think I’m teaching you how casual works,” she whispers. “I’m a good friend like that.”
There it is—the permission I need, the acknowledgment that she understands the limits of what I’m offering. I hold her gaze, then search her face for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure?”Chapter FourStellaAm I sure? Kace has his hands on me and is looking at me like a starved man and dropping not-so-subtle hints that he’s craving me, and he thinks I’m going to back out now? I’m sure I like Coke more than Pepsi. I’m sure I’m cranky if I don’t get at least six hours of sleep. Him asking if I’m sure I want him to touch me is akin to asking if I’m sure I need oxygen.
“So sure.”
His lips part, and his gaze skims over every inch of my face before dropping to my throat, my collarbone, and finally to the swell of my breasts.
I bite my thumb hard, but nope. I don’t wake up. Maybe I’m crazy and this is going to make shit real awkward, but I can’t back off. Kace is . . . everything. And he’s right in front of me.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off you today,” he says.
“I noticed.”
“Or last night,” he says, his voice rough.
Not just today. And not just last night. I’ve given Kace shit for years, but the past month or so, I’ve noticed the way he looks at me when we end up in the same room together. I’ve recognized the interest in his eyes, and yet until his last text, I thought he was either in denial about the chemistry between us or determined to never act on it.
His hands skim up my sides, thumbs stopping just shy of the underside of my breasts, before heading back down. “I keep waiting for Dean to catch me ogling his sister and give me a lecture.”
“Would that have kept you from joining me?”
He shakes his head then shrugs before his gaze settles on my mouth again. “I don’t know.”
“Kace.” Reaching up, I tangle my fingers into his hair and tug gently. “Are you going to kiss my mouth or just keep looking at it?”
His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “Both?” Then slowly, so slowly I want to whimper in frustration, he dips his head. When those lips finally brush mine, a hot shiver rolls down my spine.
I want to climb him, wrap myself around him and hold on tight. Or kiss my way down his body and fulfill another fantasy. But I ignore the thoughts that beg me to rush to the next part and focus on how surprisingly soft his lips are, how the air around us seems to crackle with the chemistry of our bodies finally touching.
“Is this what you wanted?” His lips brush mine with each word.
“It’s on the road to what I want,” I admit. “But only if you want it too.”
He grunts. “You have no idea.”
I slide my hands around his hips, over his waistband, up and over the powerful muscles of his back. Kace might spend the better part of his workday behind a desk now, but he’s built like he’s still hauling wood and hanging drywall and whatever the hell else those guys do.
“Do you have any idea how hot you look in this bikini?” He drags his mouth across my jaw and to my ear, where he pulls the lobe between his teeth and sucks. His hands are everywhere—rough fingertips skimming the skin just above the top of my bikini bottoms then trailing up, thumbs ghosting over my nipples before they descend. He’s touching me all over, and it’s not enough. “I’ve spent the whole day wanting to peel it off you with my teeth. Or maybe just tease you through the fabric until you’re begging to feel my tongue on your bare skin.”
I draw in a little shocked gasp. Holy hell, who knew Kace could bring the dirty talk? I like it. Way too much. “Either works for me.”
He chuckles in my ear. “Patience, Freckles.”
“Time for a lesson about hookups,” I say between heavy breaths—because the sucking, licking, kissing thing he’s doing to my ear right now is making it hard to focus on anything else. “Hookups aren’t about patience. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s about getting the job done.”