Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends #2) - Sara Ney Page 0,71
a cheeseball move I’ll remember as being the turning point, I take her hand and pull her in. Kiss her on the lips. “A good bubble bath cures almost anything.”
“Is that so?”
“Yup. I even have bath bombs for you. They’re phallic.”
The brows shoot back up into her hairline. “Phallic? Like dicks and vaginas?”
I shrug. “Meh, I wish—they’re eggplants and peaches. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom, her neck does the craning thing she did downstairs to peer into the passing rooms. Guest room. Office. Bonus space. Another guest room.
My bedroom.
It’s simple, nothing crazy: my giant bed, the TV cabinet, a nightstand and lamp on each side of the bed. The basics.
Clean lines.
I’ve picked up my bathroom, too, so there aren’t any skivvies lying around—dirty underwear did never a woman seduce. They’ve been swiped up and put in the hamper, off to the laundry for Tiff and Jen on Monday.
“Wow.” Hollis makes for the tub. It’s a ridiculously large bowl, sized for someone my height, devoid of bubbles because I wasn’t sure what she’d want in it.
I show her the box, picking out a boat and presenting it to her. “Motorboating.”
Hollis laughs. “That is not what that one means! It’s got to be something else. River of love? The love boat?”
“Nah, it’s motorboating.” I put it back in the box and pull out the one shaped like a clam. “Crotch.”
She smacks my arm. “Stop it.”
The peach. “Juicy ass.”
Hollis nods. “Okay, that one I believe.”
Eggplant. “Cock.”
Another nod. “Accurate.”
“This one I’m not sure about.” It’s a gold fortune cookie looking thing—half croissant, half I don’t know what the fuck. I turn it this way and that in my fingers, getting gold glitter on my hands. Swipe some on my face. “Now it looks like I’ve been to a strip club.”
She removes it from my hand and sets it back in the box. “You are twelve.”
“So are you going in?”
Hollis tilts her head and studies the water. “Are you going to sit here and keep me company?”
Duh. “Thought you’d never ask.” I point to the bath bombs on the ledge. “Do you want one of these or bubbles?”
She plucks the peach emoji bomb from the pink, cardboard box and examines it. Gives it a whiff. “This one smells so good. I’ll pop it in the water once I’m in the tub.”
“Should I…” Leave? “Give you some privacy?”
She purses her lips for a few seconds while she considers. “Just don’t stare at me directly while I’m getting undressed and we’ll be fine. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked already.”
“Or licked your pussy.”
She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t have to say that, but yes—since you’ve already licked my pussy, what’s the point of me being modest?”
Holy shit. “I can’t believe you just said the P word.” I’m giggling like a teenager in health class and covering my mouth, too.
“You boys are so dumb.”
I laugh again but turn my back so she can undress, setting my sights on the terrycloth towels. Grab two of those, and a bathrobe, fold them neatly on the cool tile surrounding the tub.
Plus, I can see her reflection in the mirror while I’m gathering bath supplies, so I’m no angel.
It takes her a few moments to get her clothes off, and I watch her firm ass flex when her leg bends so she can lift it over the short ledge. She has a lovely backside.
Once she’s submerged and plops the bath bomb into the water, I turn around to join her, bringing the wine glasses along with me.
She takes a dainty sip, her best parts still visible in the water.
The bomb fizzes and the water gets cloudy—but not nearly enough to conceal her tits or the V between her thighs.
Don’t stare.
Don’t stare.
“Ugh, this feels amazing. I don’t have a tub at my place. I mean, I do, but not in my bathroom, and the guest tub is the size of a Tic Tac.”
It pleases me that she’s happy.
Her eyes slide shut as she sips from her glass, making tiny slurping sounds as she does it. “Mmm.” Hollis cracks an eyelid. “Why is this bathtub so huge?”
“‘Cause I’m huge.”
“Do you ever sit in it?”
“Yeah, sometimes. I have to soak my muscles.”
She assesses me for a bit. “How was your game today? I never asked.”
“We won.”
“What was the score?”
“Eleven to ten.”
Her lips release a low whistle. “That’s a close one.”