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He unfastens the gate bolt and holds it open for me. ‘Not really. If I have kids, I want to know they’re a hundred percent safe when they’re running around outside. I couldn’t relax if there was a pool bang in the middle of the garden.’
‘Makes sense,’ I say, but my heart goes pitter-patter.
This man kills me. Of course Aide designed this place with a family, and the safety of his unborn children, in mind. That’s the kind of guy he is. I should have seen that coming.
He wants to look after everyone.
To keep them safe.
It’s his entire MO.
Hidden or not, the pool is spectacular. It’s lined in grey slate and surrounded by a flagstoned area featuring my favourite type of sun loungers - heavy and wooden, with deep white mattresses. There’s a matching daybed at the far end, its huge mattress covered with scatter cushions and sheltered by billowing sheets of white muslin. On every lounger is a perfectly placed rolled-up towel with thick slate-grey stripes. A huge wicker basket neatly stacked with more matching, rolled-up towels sits next to the first lounger.
Beyond the flagstones lies a thick lawn, on the other side of which is a sizeable, bad-ass pool house. Built in the same brick as the main house, its front boasts a line of Crittall French doors similar in style to those leading from Aide’s kitchen.
So this was the structure that caused all those paperwork headaches for my colleagues.
Looks like it was worth it.
Next to it is an epic summer kitchen with a bar, an absolutely enormous barbecue, and a glass-fronted drinks fridge. I suppress a smile. It’s reassuring to know my ascetic fuck-buddy spends his money somewhere. Even Aide Duffy isn’t immune to the charms of boys’ toys.
‘I bet you have some good parties here,’ I observe, putting my wineglass down on one of the sturdy wooden tables dotted between the loungers.
He lowers his beer from his lips and rakes his eyes over my body before he answers. I’ve ditched my painting t-shirt and am instead in another pair of cutoffs, given the heat, and the sameBarbievest as earlier.
‘Mmm-hmm,’ he says, ‘but none as fun as the party you and I are about to have.’
Challenge accepted, darling.
I raise an eyebrow? ‘Is that so?’
‘Most of my parties don’t feature beautiful, naked women or happy endings,’ he says, strolling towards me. He put his vest back on for the car journey home but is still in his football shorts. It’s a testament to this guy’s Big Dick Energy that he can seem so powerful, so menacing, in such casual clothes.
‘That’s very presumptuous,’ I say, standing my ground.
He reaches me and wraps a strong arm around my waist, hauling me to him. I look up and smirk. He’s so fucking hot, with that strong, beard-covered jaw and those melting blue eyes. I don’t stand a chance.
‘I forgot to mention the happy ending’s foryou,’ he says in a low growl, dipping his head so his lips are millimetres from mine.
My breath hitches, and I allow myself to swoon a little, because come on. ‘Now you’re talking.’
‘I already had my happy ending. It’s your turn.’ He slides a finger under the strap of my vest and strokes my skin. ‘Nowstrip.’
Before I can tell him the night is young and he most certainly has more happy endings coming his way, he’s releasing me and stepping backwards, a grin on his face that’s hungry and expectant and hot.
I salute him. ‘Yes, sir.’ And with that, I peel off my top to reveal my matching bra, and his grin turns even more wolfish.
‘It’s amazing how tolerant you are of my bras these past few days,’ I muse as I unbutton my shorts and slide them down my legs to reveal the bottom half of my very cute matching set.
‘Risk-reward,’ he mutters.
I pause with my fingers on my bra clasp. ‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Yeah. Lose the bra, Lotts.’
‘How so?’
‘The stakes have changed. Before, it was all downside for me, having to deal with those nipples in my fucking face all day.’
