Page 52 of Secret Nights and Northern Lights
“Come on in,” I say, trying to keep my voice even and unbothered.
The rooms at this guesthouse are cozy and well kept, all designed with a sliding glass door that opens to a wooden deck encircling a sunken hot tub in the center. The view of the glacier in the not-so-far distance fades in the dusky light, and fairy lights are strung overhead between wooden privacy barriers separating us from our neighbors, making this the ultimate cozy spot for a little Icelandic romance.
Again, a really terrible idea.
Ben pours a glass of wine from the bottle he purchased from the restaurant before we left, and his fingers brush mine when he passes it to me. I take a long sip.
His eyes stay on me as I swallow. “You’re nervous.”
“I am.”
“Nervous enough that you regret asking me to come here?”
“No.” Taking my glass with me, I exit through the sliding door.
The Icelandic winds lift steam from the bubbling water and send it whipping around me as I step out onto the deck. Ben joins me a moment later with two plush hotel robes that he places over a patio chair off to the side. He strips off his T-shirt, and I let my eyes freely roam the grooves of his abdomen, the defined muscles of his chest, the intricate black camera tattoo on his inner biceps. God, he’s gorgeous.
His golden brown hair falls over his forehead as he steps down into the swirling water and then casts a look back over his shoulder and asks, “You coming?” with a devilish twist of his lips.
Fuck, this is a very, very terrible idea.
“Right behind you.”
I set my wine—which I definitely don’t need and, ironically, also definitely do—on the deck within arm’s reach of the hot tub and then tug my shirt overhead.
Cold air hits the exposed portions of my torso and creates pebbles across my skin. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the cold at all. Maybe it’s because Ben’s green eyes darken as they drink me in from head to toe. If I felt self-conscious in this silky, thin material in the bathroom, it’s impossible to feel anything other than sexy and desired with the way he looks at me now.
When he realizes I’ve caught him staring, he shrugs a shoulder like it just couldn’t be helped. “Here, let me help you,” he says, extending a hand for me to grasp as I step down into the water and take a seat across from him, our fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary before letting go.
“Oh god,” I moan, sinking to my shoulders, my tense, achy muscles relaxing all at once. “This hot tub may be the best thing that’s ever happened to my body.”
“Really?” Ben questions, a spark flaring in his eyes. “Thebestthing?”
We both know what he’s referencing. The nights he used to slip between my sheets after everyone else was asleep. The way we’d kiss until we were both desperate for more, our touches pushing the boundaries further and further as we explored each other’s bodies in brand-new ways.
“Ems?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I pull my mind back to the presentbefore I start to unravel. Unfortunately for me, this current setup does nothing to tame my lascivious thoughts.
“Yeah?” My too-shrill voice betrays me.
“You okay over there?”
“Mmmhmm. No worries.”
Ben reaches for my wineglass and lifts it to his lips, and there’s something practically obscene about the way his mouth covers the pink imprint left behind from my lip gloss as he swallows half of my prosecco. I’m suddenly aching between my thighs.
Setting the glass back down, Ben winces as he extends his arm, then grasps his shoulder with the opposite hand.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, concern momentarily overtaking arousal. “Are you hurt?”
“Not hurt. Shoulder’s just sore.” He presses his fingertips into the rounded muscle, rotating his shoulder backward. “I told you that you weren’t the only one getting beaten up by this trip.”
I’m not sure if it’s the memories of those heated nights years ago, or if it’s the incredibly sexy, wet version of Ben staring back at me through the rising steam, or if it’s the wine, or this swimsuit, or the conversation with Jacklyn. But for none of those reasons or all of them, I say, “Come here.”
He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Are you…” He swallows again. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
No.“Yeah. Let me help you for a change. I’ll rub your shoulder.”
