Flirting with Temptation - By Kelley St. John Page 0,65
He remembered.
“I see you looking,” she said. Unfortunately, at that moment, his attention had been focused on the strawberry curls between her legs, and that part of her that had always been so hot, so wet, so ready, every time he touched her there.
He looked at her face. “Sorry.” And then he smiled guiltily, “And for the record, there’s nothing ‘pathetic’ about any part of you, Babette. These,”—he eased his hand into the water and held it near but not touching her pink-tipped breasts, “are just right.”
“Yeah, I guess they’ll do,” she said, and surprisingly, she moved her hands to her breasts, cupped them lightly, and said, “For the record, they like you too.”
Okay. She was still out of it from the fever, or the sunburn, or something, because that was not at all a very Babette thing to do. And then, as if emphasizing that she was still not herself, a couple of tears slipped from her eyes again. “How did she do it?”
“How did who do what?”
“Kitty,” she whispered, then softly added, “How did she stick to her rule with you?” She frowned. “I couldn’t.”
“What rule?”
“Eight weeks. Two months. However she figured it,” Babette mumbled, her swollen mouth muffling her words.
“Eight weeks?” He’d help her out, but he was clueless.
“She doesn’t sleep with guys until they’ve hit eight weeks,” Babette said, and every “s” lasted a little too long.
Jeff blinked. So that was why Kitty kept putting him off in the beginning, and then suddenly couldn’t get him naked fast enough? She’d been . . . counting days.
The second part of Babette’s statement snapped into place, and he asked, “What do you mean, you couldn’t?”
“My rule. I broke my rule with you.” This time, each “r” took a while to roll out, but Jeff wasn’t about to let it go now.
“What was your rule, Babette?”
“Third date.”
“Third date?”
“I’ve never slept with anyone until the third date.”
He opened his mouth, ready to remind her about their first date, but then she continued.
“Except for you. I was so lost, the minute you touched me. One minute we were talking, and I was thinking about how much I wanted you, and the next I was naked and begging for it.” She paused a beat. “Wasn’t I?”
That was pretty much the way he remembered it. She’d shocked the hell out of him, and turned him on more than any other woman ever had. “Yeah, you were, but I didn’t complain.”
“No more third dates. I can’t even get past date two anymore,” she mumbled, then moaned. “I feel terrible.”
“Hold on, I’ll get something.” He got up, opened the bathroom cabinet and spied a bottle of Ibuprofen. He grabbed it and, after their talk this afternoon about expired dates, turned it to check that it was, in fact, okay through next year. “Good.” Then he grabbed a glass from beside the sink, filled it with water and moved back to the tub. “Here.”
She didn’t move her hands toward the pills, though they had left her boobs, which was good, due to what that image had done to his manhood. But instead, she leaned forward and licked the two pills from his palm, then she moved her mouth toward the glass, and Jeff realized that what relief his dick had received from her putting her hands back in the water was lost with the sensation of her tongue against his palm.
“Thanks,” she said, resting her head against the back of the tub again and closing her eyes.
He swallowed. It took a damn decent man not to take advantage of this situation. Then again, the fact that he was sitting beside the tub and taking in Babette in all her wet glory was probably taking advantage enough, but he couldn’t very well leave her soaking in the tub in the state she was in. She might drown. Or he’d tell himself that, because he really did like sitting here, not necessarily because Babette was nude in the tub, but because he really liked helping Babette, period.
“I think I’m done.” She pushed on the sides of the tub and stood up.
He pressed a hand to her forehead, and it didn’t feel as hot. Not exactly cool, but not as hot either.
She stepped out of the tub and stood there dripping on the floor.
“Hang on, I’ll get a towel.” He grabbed one off a rack nearby and handed it to her.
She took it, moved it to her face and yelped. Then she dropped it to the floor. “Hurts.”