"What happened at work today?" I recall him saying he’d had a rough day.
His eyes harden and he looks out at the dark blue water, growing quiet. It occurs to me that I don’t really know what he does. He’s very private about his business. "Nothing with work, it was actually something…personal that popped up unexpectedly. I need to go to New York and take care of it."
"New York? When?" Of course what I really want to know is what personal matter he could have in New York, since I know virtually nothing of his past.
He shrugs. "Soon. Maybe this weekend." His tone tells me it’s not something he wants to discuss, though I don’t like the thought of him leaving.
I want to get back the flirty, playful attitude that seems to have faded with my complaints about boredom and whatever personal drama had Colton frowning out at the ocean.
"I have an idea," I announce, hopping up from my chair. "Stay here."
He nods, and watches me retreat through the glass door.
I jog upstairs and search through my toiletries until I find it.
I’m slightly winded when I make it back outside and Colton’s eyes drop to see what I’ve gone to retrieve. I hold up the bottle of oil. The one that he bought and used to give me a massage weeks ago.
"I thought you could use a little relaxation." I wave the massage oil temptingly in front of him and smile.
He eyes me curiously like he’s trying to figure out my motives. It never occurred to me that he’d assume I was doing this out of obligation. It was a simple gesture—something nice you’d do for a friend, or a boyfriend when he’d had a trying day.
"Strip," I order, pointing to his dress shirt. I won’t let him turn this into something weird.
He complies, watching me while he carefully unbuttons and shrugs out of the shirt. Even though I should be used to seeing him in various states of undress by now, but each time, his masculine beauty hits me full force. His toned chest and chiseled abs look positively lickable in the glowing moonlight. Focus, Sophie. Things aren’t like that between you two. I take a deep breath and motion for him to turn over and lay on his stomach. After dropping the shirt to the deck, he rolls on his lounger, lying flat for me.
Without thinking, I straddle him, sitting right on his butt and draping one leg on either side of his hips. "Am I too heavy?" I ask.
"You’re fine," he says. He folds his arms under his chin, making his shoulder muscles bulge. He looks completely at peace and comfortable with my weight on top of him, so I decide to believe him.
Dripping some of the fragrant lavender scented oil into my hand, I rub my palms together to warm it before spreading it over his back. His frame is so broad that my small hands seem to barely make a dent in the expanse of canvas I want to cover. At first I think he’s incredibly tense and I tell him to relax.
"I am," he mumbles.
And then I realize he’s just rock hard with muscle. Geez. I splay my hands across his upper back, rubbing steadily. I’m unaccustomed to touching a man so intimately. His skin is smooth and lightly tanned and I love the feel of him under my hands. Warm and strong and powerful.
I rub my hands up his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp and he groans. I’m all too aware of how I’m sitting perched on top of him. My center is resting against his firm backside and the seam of my shorts pressing against my cleft. I squirm the tiniest bit, trying to adjust the way I’m sitting, but it only puts additional friction between my thighs. My clit begins to throb in time with my accelerating heartbeat. Shit. I’m horny. I blame it on too much wine, too much warm male perfection underneath me.
I rise to my feet, needing to separate myself from his tempting body. "Flip over," I tell him. I didn’t get to rub his shoulders properly in that position. I straddle him once again, this time sitting across his thighs.
With Colton lying flat on his back, I massage his shoulders, then his firm biceps. His eyes slip closed, his mouth softens as a relaxed expression overtakes his face. I can ogle him properly in this position. And I do. From his handsome face, shadowed with a hint of dark stubble, to the thick column of his throat, down his smooth chest, the delectable grooves in his abs, to the trail of fine hair that disappears under his dress pants. He’s beautiful, and very tempting.
Touching his solid arms is not helping my libido. If anything, my core heats up even more and I realize I’m becoming wet.
I release a grunt of frustration and his eyes open and find mine. I realize my hands, seeming to have a mind of their own, are now rubbing his chest, brushing over his flat nipples and down further to trace his abs. He releases a soft hiss. My body floods with sexual awareness like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’m desperate to feel his hands on my body too, to be consumed by the deep, hungry kisses I remember.
Colton watches me with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing shallow and rapid, much like mine.
Glancing down, I see his cock is half hard and rising the closer my hands get to his lap. My heart rate speeds up as this moment takes on a deeper meaning. I’m perched atop him, tending to him, and we’re bathed in moonlight with the soft sound of waves lapping lazily behind us. It’s perfect. Romantic, even.
Without pausing to think, I reach for his belt buckle and undo the stiff leather, my fingers trembling as I open his pants and ease down the zipper.