Page 34 of Spring Break with a Bass Player
“Bridger.”
“Saige,” he mocks, kissing the tip of my nose. “I’ll text you later. Thank you for getting my parents here, for meeting them,”—he swallows hard—“and for not running when I know you wanted to.”
Lifting up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck, while his wrap around my back. “Was the orgasm a reward then?”
“Maybe,” he admits sheepishly.
“I’m fine with that,” I tell him before threading my fingers through his hair and kissing the hell out of him.
Because I can.
Because Bridger Cole is mine.
22
BRIDGER
SAIGE: Come over and celebrate with me
BRIDGER: What’s the occasion?
Iask the question even as I shove my feet into my shoes and head for the door. Lettie took our parents to dinner in Magnolia Point, the town there just as idyllic as ours is here. Having them here is amazing, but the fact that I haven’t gotten Saige into bed in the week since they got here is a special kind of torture.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she’s mine.
SAIGE: I’ll tell you when you get here
My lips curveup on one side as I make my way from my backyard to hers before stepping onto the stone path and turning the knob on the door.
“Saige?”
“In here!”
Her voice is muffled, and if I’m not mistaken there’s water running. My pulse pounds in my ears at the possibilities.
The naked possibilities.
Rounding the corner, I stop short, peeking my head into the bathroom and damn near swallowing my tongue at the sight before me.
Saige’s lips twitch as she stares back, her body wet and submerged in the tub, bubbles on the surface making it impossible to see what I know is there.
“Wanna join me?” she purrs, raising a glass of champagne to her lips as her gaze rakes over me.
Instead of answering, I grab the back of my shirt and pull it over my head and drop it to the floor before kicking off my shoes and shucking my pants and boxers. I’m already hard, and I can’t help stroking myself when her tongue peeks out to wet her lips.
“What are we celebrating?” I rasp as her eyes travel up my body to my eyes.
“I closed on a house today,” she says, leaning forward with her glass dangling from her fingertips, giving me space to climb in behind her.
“You’re incredible—holy shit,”I hiss as I stick one foot into the water that’s roughly the temperature of actively flowing lava. She shakes with silent laughter as I breathe heavily and curse as I submerge myself in the bath.
“Want some champagne?” she asks, reaching for the bottle and an empty glass set on a small table with her phone and a handful of wrapped chocolates.
“Yeah, but just give me the bottle so I can hold it on my skin.”
“You’re so dramatic.” She laughs, handing me a drink and settling back against me, her body warm and slippery against mine.
