Page 23 of Jacob
“Your date didn’t last long. I thought you’d be out all night with her.” My voice is laced with sarcasm.
“I didn’t have a date,” he confesses, his honesty knocking the wind from me.
“Where did you go then?” I ask, trying to sound like I don’t really care.
“I met my cousin, at The Ritz for dinner. She’s a cardiothoracic surgeon at Great Ormond Street children’s hospital. She’s just moved back from New York.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.”
He looks troubled, wrapping his tie around his shovel-sized hands, when he says, “Joanna talked some sense into me. She said I needed to open up.”
What I would like him to do with that tie…
“You and me.” He gestures to the space between us. “We need to talk. Get out.”
“Hop in,” I counter, trying not to overthink all the reasons this is a bad idea.
His jaw twitches once, then twice, as he considers my invitation.
“Jacob, as my friend, I’m asking you to get in.”
He tilts his neck back as he inhales a deep breath, forcing his wide chest to puff out.
Without another word, he begins unbuttoning his shirt. When the last one is undone, he peels his shirt off, providing me a better look at him.
He’s a solid wall of muscle and his skin is a work of art. My mouth salivates at the thought of licking all his delicious divots.
Eyes connected, he toes his black dress shoes off before he unbuckles his belt, leisurely teasing me with the slow tempo of his movements.
Watching him, with my pulse racing, I have to dip my mouth below the surface of the water to stop myself from moaning, unable to tear my eyes away from him.
He grants me a rare knock-out grin and my eyes dip to watch him unzip his suit trousers. Pushing them past his hips, he lets them fall to the wooden deck.
I sit up straighter, my mouth rising out of the water, exposing my lips to the cold air, and an unexpected high-pitched gasp leaves my throat.
I drink in his tall, lean body and it’s like something out of a men’s fitness magazine. Thick thighs, solid calves, laddered absI’d like to climb, and, Lord have mercy, the outline of his thick, long cock is obvious beneath his stupidly tight boxers.
I raise my eyebrows, stunned at his surprising choice of underwear. “Do you have a yellow duck pattern on your boxers?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason.” I dip my mouth back in the water to hide my amusement.
He leans to the side and pulls his socks off.
Squinting my eyes in the low light, I try to get a better look at the vast expanse of tattoos across his wide shoulders, arms, collar, and chest, as he moves to step into the hot tub, submerging his gorgeous body from my viewing pleasure.
As he sits across from me, tension grows between us.
Growing impatient, I flick water at him, the droplets hitting his chest and running down, making me wish I could follow them with my tongue. “Start talking.”
“What do you want to know?” he lets out with a sigh, stretching his arms wide along the sides of the hot tub, his hands clenching the lip of it tight.
“Why did you never tell me you had a thing for me, Jacob?”
He looks around the huge outdoor space before saying, “Because, within the first six months of moving to Castleview Cove, you were all about Owen.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I reply defensively.
