“Truth or dare?” My voice is full of undisguised desire. I’ve used this voice before to get what I want. It’s worked for me with other men. But never has it resulted in the expression of distressed pleading on Cade’s face when he glances up at me and says, “Dare.”
His expression doesn’t say crawl onto my lap and ride me. It says help me.
And so that’s what I do. But probably not in the way he saw coming.
“I dare you to do those rodeos and let me take care of Luke while you do.”
The look he gives me back is dark and fathomless. It’s confused and thankful all at once. Disappointed and relieved in the same beat.
When I hear his low, “Okay,” I smile softly at him and swing my legs out of the water onto the deck, not oblivious to the way he’s blatantly watching my every move now. I feel momentarily self-conscious, like he might see something he doesn’t like.
But I shake the thought away. The lighting is dim, and it doesn’t matter if he sees the dimples on my ass anyway.
Away from the steam of the hot water and the buzz of the bourbon, things look a whole lot clearer. And what Cade Eaton thinks of my body is of little importance.
I wrap a towel around myself, turning only when I hit the back door. “Good night, Cade.” He drops his head back and stares at the blanket of stars. “Thanks for . . . the game.”
He doesn’t turn to look at me when he rasps, “Goodnight, Red.”
12
Cade
Cade: Fine. I’ll do it.
Lance: Yeah?
Cade: Yeah.
Lance: Fuck yeah, buddy. Let’s do this!
Cade: But I want to win. No mediocre shit. I don’t want to waste my weekends losing.
Lance: Deal. You need to borrow a horse?
Cade: No. Mine knows her job better than any of your shiny show ponies.
Lance: LOL. Kinda forgot what a dick you are.
I groan when the first splash of coffee hits my tongue. I need it because I’ve been up all night trying to will away the world’s most persistent hard-on.
Thanks to Willa fucking Grant.
I could hear the rustling of her blankets in the room next to mine and wondered what she was doing. Tossing and turning? Sliding a dainty hand between those pretty thighs?
Thinking of me?
And I refused to relieve myself. I wrapped my palm around my thick shaft and gave it one firm tug while I laid there. Then I stopped. Because blowing my load while thinking of the twenty-something nanny sleeping on the other side of the wall just felt fucking gross. Daring her to sit on the edge of the hot tub, when we both knew why, was bad enough.
God. What was I thinking?
I lean back against the kitchen counter and swipe my hand over my mouth. Out of control, that’s what I am.
It’s like I didn’t break enough rules when I was younger—I was too busy being serious—and now that streak is cropping up on me.
It’s perfectly natural. Willa is a smoke show. She’d make a priest crumble. And I’m no man of the cloth.
“Good morning.” She waltzes into the kitchen like I summoned her just by thinking of her. All wild copper hair piled on top of her head and fresh-faced, which is making her look awfully young.
But when my eyes drop to her chest, all warning thoughts of her being too young grow wings and fly right the fuck out of my head. Her perky tits are teasing me through a soft, white cotton concert tee.
I couldn’t tell you which band it’s for, because all I can see is outlines of those goddamn nipple piercings.
Taunting me. Reminding me how that pretty, pale purple swimsuit wedged itself between her pussy lips.
Jealousy of a bathing suit is a new feeling for me.
“Good morning,” I bite out, madder at myself than her. But I lash out all the same. “Are you averse to bras as well?”
Her laugh is airy as she rises on her tippy-toes to reach the top of the cupboard where I keep the coffee cups. My eyes are drawn to the way her calves flex, toned legs disappearing into a pair of baby blue short-shorts, her bare feet on my floor. There’s something intimate about having Willa in my space like this. And Luke isn’t even here to make a good reason for it.
“Here, I’ll grab that.” It only takes me one step to stand directly behind her and reach into the back of the cupboard. I guess I don’t normally go through mugs this quickly when I’m the only one using them.
“Thanks,” she breathes, shrinking back down onto the soles of her feet, brushing the curve of her ass along my front as she does.
I step away quickly, placing the mug on the marble countertop and willing my cock to not pop up and make a special appearance, outing me as the world’s biggest creep.