a couple, but is it jumping the gun a bit to send a seminude pic before the boyfriend-girlfriend discussion? Possibly.
I stretch my arm to set my phone back on the toilet lid, but I slip on the slick edge of the tub. My thumb hits the button, and the photo sends, just as it drops out of my hand and onto the floor.
“Shit,” I jolt up, my abdomen throbbing in pain. “Ow, shit.”
A slow hiss of breath eases me through the soreness. It’s gone in seconds, but the realization of what I’ve done lingers. Two breaths later, my phone rings. Tate’s name flashes across the screen. I’m tempted to ignore it, but that will just make for an awkward workday tomorrow. May as well get the humiliation over with now.
“Yeah? I mean, hello?” I pound a fist to my head, my eyes pressed shut.
“You’re in the bathtub.” There’s a low growl when he speaks. A smidgen of my humiliation disappears. I guess he liked what he saw.
“I am.” I try for a nonchalant tone.
“You’re taunting me.”
“Am not.” My nonchalance is now a breathy huff that mirrors his rasp.
“Liar. What are you trying to do to me, Emmie?” There’s a frustrated chuckle at the end.
“Nothing. I’m innocent. Just simply bathing by myself.”
“By yourself? That should be a crime.”
I let out a breath. “I have to say I’m relieved.”
“What do you mean?”
I press my eyes shut, even though he can’t see me. “I thought it would seem desperate, maybe jumping the gun a bit, sending you a photo of my half-naked body.”
He huffs a breath. I think he’s smiling. “Come on. We’re going on dates; we’re spending the night together; we’re getting physical to the point of having to set rules so we don’t injure ourselves. Desperate isn’t even on the radar for us.”
Us. The way he says it sounds official. “Us,” I repeat.
“Us. As in you and me.”
“Two of us.”
He chuckles. “We’re a couple, Emmie. Is that what you want me to say?”
A giggle hits the base of my throat. I have to lean back to laugh properly. “You said it, not me.”
“Come on. Tell me you haven’t been thinking the exact same thought. I sure as hell have.”
“I have,” I groan. My hand slips from my stomach to between my legs. “We should celebrate.” A moan escapes. Even though I’m talking to him on the phone, the pulse between my legs is back. Just the sound of his voice, that perfect low growl, gets me going.
“How?”
“Just listen.”
The pressure of my hand leads to a single quiet moan. I swirl my fingers round and round. The clench in my abdomen doesn’t aggravate my soreness like I thought it would. I’m relieved because I don’t think I could stop, even if I had to.
I put the phone on speaker and place it on the edge of the tub. Eyes closed, I let my hand work in slow circles. Quick, even circles. Every muscle in my body shakes. A minute passes, then another. The heat and pressure always build quickly when it’s just me, but with Tate on the other line, the sound of his heavy breath echoing against the walls, my pleasure comes lightning fast. A long, pitchy, breathy moan pulls from the bottom of my throat and out of my mouth. Panting, I clutch the side of the tub and bring the phone back to my ear.
“How was that?” I say, still short of breath.
He lets out a groan. “Fucking hell, Emmie. The way you breathe, the way you moan . . .”
I can picture his face perfectly. Shy, dilated eyes, half smile, face an undiscovered shade of red. I wonder if he got a bit handsy with himself too. A soft chuckle falls from me. I’m the one doing all of this to him, and it is a whole new realm of satisfying.
“Can we call that date three?”
“We can call it whatever you want. Thanks for letting me listen.”
“It sounded like you did a bit more than listen.”
A pause follows. “Can you blame me? You drive me wild, Emmie.”
We share a chuckle, then say good night. I lie back and submerge myself under the water, still on fire. It’s official. We’re a couple. Tate Rasmussen is my boyfriend.
* * *
• • •
I WALK INTO Lynn’s empty office, mimicking the slow, quiet movements of a cat burglar. The word “couple” bounces through my head. It’s the reason why I’m creeping in an office that isn’t mine.
Luckily, what I’m looking for rests