two steps into the clearing when the kid looks up with a sneer, lips curled around a set of heavy braces. He raises his middle finger, and only then do I realize it’s a trap. We don’t turn in time to see his buddy come from behind us, but the next thing I know, my entire ass is purple.
• • •
“I CAN’T BELIEVE HE FLIPPED us off before his buddy shot us,” Ethan growls. “Smug little shit.”
We’re in the relaxation room of the hotel spa, waiting to be called back, and dressed in matching white robes. We are both so sore we didn’t even balk when we remembered what the couple part of a couple’s massage entails: being naked and oiled up in the same room together.
The door opens and a smiling dark-haired woman walks in. We follow her down a long, dimly lit hall to an even darker room. A sunken hot tub bubbles in the center; steam rises invitingly.
Ethan and I make eye contact and then immediately look away. I clutch at my robe, aware that I’m not wearing anything underneath. I thought we’d head straight for the massage tables, enduring only a few quick moments of awkward maneuvering while we slipped under our respective sheets.
“I thought we were just scheduled for massages?” I say.
“Your package comes with time in the whirlpool for a presoak, and then your therapists will meet you.” Her voice is feathery and calm. “Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas?”
Instinct has me opening my mouth to correct her, but Ethan swoops in.
“I think we’re good,” he says, and smiles his megawatt smile. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy.” She bows, and then quietly closes the door behind her.
The hot tub gurgles between us.
His smile slips away and he looks up at me, grim. “I’m not wearing anything under here,” Gesturing to the ties of his robe, he adds, “I assume you’re equally—”
“Yep.”
He considers the steaming water, and his longing is nearly palpable. “Look,” he says, at length. “Do what you’ve got to do, but I can hardly walk. I’m getting in.”
The words are barely out before he tugs at the tie and I get a flash of bare chest. Turning abruptly, I’m suddenly very interested in the table of snacks and bottled waters against the wall. There’s some shuffling and the sound of fabric falling to the ground before he moans, deep and low, “Holy shiiiiiiit.” The sound is like a tuning fork, and a shiver rockets through my body. “Olivier, you have to get in.”
I pick up a little cup of dried fruit, take a nibble. “I’m good.”
“We’re both adults here, and you can’t even see anything. Look.”
I turn and reluctantly glance over my shoulder. He’s right, the bubbling water reaches just below his shoulders, but it’s still a problem. Who knew I had such a thing for collarbones? His mouth tugs up into a smile and he leans back, stretching his arms across the sides and sighing dramatically. “God, this feels amazing.”
Every one of my bruises and sore muscles practically whimpers in reply. The steam is like a set of fingers luring me in. Bubbles, jets, and the subtle scent of lavender everywhere.
Naked collarbones.
“Fine,” I say, “but close your eyes.” He does, but I bet he can still peek. “And cover them, too.” He cups his palm across his eyes, grinning. “With both hands.”
Once he’s sufficiently blinded, I wrestle out of my robe. “When I signed up for this honeymoon, I had no idea it would involve so much nudity.”
Ethan laughs from behind his hands, and I dip my foot into the water. Warmth engulfs me—it’s almost too hot—and I hiss as I sink deeper into the water. It feels unreal, the heat and bubbles all along my skin.
I let out a shaky breath. “Oh God, this feels so good.”
His back straightens.
“You can look. I’m decent,” I say.
He lowers his hands, expression wary. “That’s debatable.”
Jets pulse against my shoulders and the bottoms of my feet. My head lolls to the side. “This feels so good, I don’t even care what you say.”
“Well then, I wish I had the energy to say something really bright.”
I snort out a laugh. I feel drunk. “I am so glad I’m allergic to shellfish.”
Ethan sinks lower into the water. “I know we’re paying the price, but did you have fun today?”
Maybe it’s the fact that the hot water has left me more Jell-O than sore muscles and bruises, but I actually did. “Even considering I