“I haven’t had many opportunities to lounge in the sun.”
“Most women I...” he drops his hand and moves away, holding out the towel again.
“Most women you sleep with are what?” I tell myself not to be jealous that he’s comparing me to past women. I wrap myself in the towel then yank my robe off the hook, covering up in that as well.
“Nothing.”
“Most women you sleep with are what?” I turn to him again and fold my arms across my chest. I give him a once over, dragging my eyes from his feet, up his legs, settling on his penis for a few moments. When it twitches and starts to lengthen, I raise my brow and continue my perusal of his body until I lock my eyes with his.
He gives me his signature stony expression and steps into his boxers and pants as if getting dressed for the day. When he has his shirt on and is working his buttons, he says, “Most women I fuck have fake boobs, fake nails, fake eye lashes, and fake tans.”
I suddenly feel old and frumpy in my robe and towel. I’m not an ogre but I’m no competition for his pin up models. My nails are short and unpainted. My boobs are a decent 34C, my eyelashes are okay when coated in mascara, and my face and legs are sun kissed but the rest of my body is pale. I’ve never been a sun worshiper.
“Well, nothing wrong with mixing things up.” I give him a fake smile and leave the bathroom. I’m the one who came on to him. I’m the one who told him I’d be waiting. I have no right to be jealous or ashamed of my body.
I want the comfort of my sweatpants and my oversized T-shirt, but I don’t want to change in front of Stone and remind him of how simple and basic my body is.
He sees my clothes on the edge of the bed and picks them up. “I like these on you. I like naked on you too.” He hands them to me, and I swear I see an inkling of a smile before he leaves.
I sleep soundly and peacefully, something I hadn’t anticipated after coming face to face with my father and Antonio again. They’ve haunted my dreams at night and kept me on edge during the days for too many years.
I yawn and stretch as the morning sun makes its way through my windows. There is still much to worry about, still so many unanswered questions, but I tell myself to take it one day at a time and enjoy the security and safety I find in Stone’s house.
And in his arms.
His body is perfection, and he knows how and where to touch me. He’s figured out my body’s switches faster than I ever have. Granted, he’s had plenty of practice with many women. I push the twinge of jealousy aside and climb out of bed.
With no agenda, nothing to do to keep me entertained during the day, I get dressed in workout clothes and decide to utilize Stone’s gym before going for a run. Then I’ll talk with Maria about more recipes I’d like to learn.
I lace my sneakers and make my way down the hall and to the kitchen to fill a water bottle. Considering it’s only six in the morning, I’m not surprised at how quiet it is in the house. I open the patio doors and follow the trail adjacent to the pool to the pool house.
I find the light switch and scan the equipment and the rows of dumbbells. It’s been a long time since I’ve done much with weights. One of the waitresses I worked with in Tennessee had a gym membership and would sneak me in from time to time.
I remember some of the basic upper body moves and select my weights. After one round of bicep curls and upright rows, I take a break and walk around. The stereo system looks as elaborate and high tech as my shower controls. After pushing a few buttons, I figure out how it works and adjust the volume so it won’t wake the house. The beat is plenty loud enough to drum through my body.
Classic rock isn’t what I want, but I can’t figure out how to change the music, so I leave it at that. I do another set of ten before I spot a rowing machine. I’m a solid fifteen minutes into working up a good sweat when a pair of sneakers comes into view.
I crane my neck as my gaze works its way up the tanned muscular legs I know belong to Stone. His arms are crossed, his biceps appearing larger than I remember. Maybe it’s because I’m in workout mode, I don’t know, but I want to touch him. Bad.
“I can be done if you want to work out alone.”
Stone doesn’t move, as he rarely does unless he has a purpose. I slow the machine and stand, then brush the back of my hand across my sweaty brow. He doesn’t look happy to see me.
“I’m sorry if you don’t want me here. The other day you said—”
“You can come here anytime you want.”
Okay. So why the grumpy face? Not that it’s grumpy. He’d have to show emotion for me to believe he’s grumpy.
“Do you want me to leave?”
The vein in his forehead appears. Shit. What the heck did I do to piss him off now? I lower my head and catch sight of an impressive erection. It’s pretty hard to hide it wearing gym shorts. Is this why he’s mad?
I lift my gaze and open my mouth to apologize again, but I’m cut off by the press of his chest against mine. He walks me back with his body until my butt hits the wall. Stone stares into my eyes as his hands slip between our bodies. He cups my breasts and keeps his intense gaze locked on mine, as if asking for permission.
It’s hard to tell since he doesn’t say anything, and facial expressions are a rarity. His hands slide down my side, settling on my hips. Again, he stops, as if asking permission. I swallow. The chemistry between us is off the charts. My skin heats and my core begs for him to touch me there.
“Yes,” I say to whatever he’s thinking and wrap one leg around his waist. I grind myself into his upper thigh, my leg brushing up against his erection.