Page 37 of Elf-ish

“Well, you can fall on me anytime you want.” He says it with such a straight face I can’t tell if he’s deadpanning. His tone is definitely not flirtatious, though.

“Maybe you need a massage.” Or a medic. Me. I could take a better look at him, but after this morning’s activity in the shower, where I was hoping to relieve the sexual tension humming inside me, I don’t think placing my hands on Jude is a good idea.

Especially since I’m certain he heard me, even though he’s politely ignoring the topic. The last thing he probably wants is a horny woman he caught helping herself to get off with visions of him touching her for real.

Then again, he didn’t seem to mind earlier when I kept my arm tucked into his for longer than necessary. And he held my hand most of the time we skated, but that was for his stability.

“I don’t think I can get a massage on such short notice.” His voice remains tight.

“What about the hot tub?” I suggest before thoughts of Jude in a sporty Speedo come to mind. Something similar to the boxer briefs he so casually wore last night.

“Great idea.” He grunts, clutching at his back again. “Am I getting old?” He grimaces. “Those words did not just come out of my mouth. I’m not even forty.”

“You aren’t even in your prime,” I tease. Something tells me when Jude hits his forties, he’s still going to be mighty fine to look at.

When he places his other hand on my lower back, I lead us from the dining room to our shared hotel room where we quickly change and head to the indoor pool area.

The last thing I want to do is show off my pale skin in the bleak winter. At least I opted for a one-piece for our dip, and I wait until the very last minute before slipping off the robe that covers me.

Jude has already lowered into the small, heated pool and crossed the space to the seat opposite me. The hot tub probably holds up to ten, but I’m grateful it’s only Jude and me. His icy eyes fixate on me as I glide into the pool, catching my breath on both the heat of the water and the comfort. Lowering as quickly as I can, I dip down until only my shoulders crest the surface, keeping most of my body hidden beneath the gurgling bubbles.

“Feel good?” Jude’s voice drops, deep and almost dirty. Like he knows what I did this morning, although neither of us will bring up the subject. A secret best unspoken. We’re already pretending we’re dating. We can pretend this morning never happened as well.

“Yeah, it feels nice.” I swish my arms along the surface and Jude tips back his head. The rumbling of the water is the only sound between us for several minutes.

“There the love birds are.” The older male voice pops our solitude, and I spin, catching a sight I don’t think I can scrub from my brain.

Walt, in a speedo.

Quickly, I glance away, catching on Jude’s eyes, which are glaring at Walt behind me. As Walt helps himself into the hot tub, he slips in a little too close for my comfort. Surprisingly, Jude rushes across the pool, wraps his arm around my back, and tugs me toward him.

We almost knock heads. “What the . . .”

He drags me across the small pool, returning to his seated position, and spinning me so I sit on his lap.

Thankfully, Walt’s wife enters the area, and I’m grateful there will be safety in two couples in the pool, not just me and two men.

I watch as Walt’s wife steps into the hot tub, while Walt keeps his eyes on Jude and me.

Jude spreads his legs, and my backside drops between his thighs. His arm remains around my belly, and he dips his head into my neck. He brushes his lips below my ear.

“Don’t look at him.” He isn’t threatening me as much as warning me. Against Walt.

I’d like to say I’m not afraid of the big and bad who thinks he’s a wolf, but I don’t argue and twist my neck so I can look at Jude better over my shoulder.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, before his lips brush against mine. The swipe is nothing more than a whisper. The light dusting of the first snowfall.

Then, Jude releases my waist and slides his hand up my back. With my hair piled on top of my head so it doesn’t get wet, he easily cups my nape and brings our mouths together again.

The initial taste is a sip, although a hearty one. Jude draws my lower lip between his and leans away, dragging out the kiss. But then I’m cupping the side of his face, and his mouth opens wider, taking more from me. I tilt my head, deepening the connection.

My body is on fire, and it is not because of the bubbling water around me. My heart races. My clit pulses. I’d give anything to spin and straddle Jude’s lap, but at the same time, this kiss is perfection. His fingers squeeze the back of my neck. His other hand is on my thigh beneath the water. My palm is against the stubble on his jaw.

And his mouth . . . holy Christmas trees, Jude kisses like he has all day. Like this is all he wants to do for the next hour or two or five.

When he slips his tongue forward, gently tracing along the seam of my lips, like asking permission to enter, I greedily open, meeting him halfway, instantly enjoying the swirl and twirl, like the way chocolate and mint melt together.

Our lips tangle. The kiss deepens.