Page 93 of Turning Back

“I’d take you outside naked, but… the city, right? People and their telescopes. This is not the tallest building in Denver.”

“I’m OK with this,” she says, chewing her lip.

It’s a nervous habit. Tells me lots of things right now. She’s turned on. She’s happy. She’s exited, but unsure of what’s happening.

I lean in and kiss her, wiping all that away. I play with her breasts and twist her nipple. Just a little. Just a tiny bit.

When I pull away she’s breathing harder.

“Turn around,” I say, twirling my finger in the air.

She obeys.

I pick up the bikini top and drape it over her front, tying the strings together around her neck. I reach around to play with her breasts one more time. Kiss her neck. Breathe words into her ear. “I think this will be better than last year’s trip would have been.”

“I think so too,” she whispers back.

I let go, allow her to adjust the top, and then tie the strings together behind her back. She turns to face me. Unsure of herself.

Rochelle Bastille has no reason to be unsure of herself in front of me. She is perfect.

“Take off my clothes,” I say.

She steps forward one pace, and unknots my tie, pulling it through my collar with a slick sound that turns me on so bad, I’m ready to bend her over and say fuck the romance.

But I behave because she’s slipping my suit coat down my shoulders, then pulling my crisp white shirt out of my pants. She starts unbuttoning it from the bottom and works her way up. Her hands make a small flutter of air that drives me crazy and makes me hard.

She slips that down my arms, lays it on the bed, and unbuckles my belt. Just like I stopped to play with her, she stops to play with me too. Her hand cups my hard dick through my pants. She leans in, kisses me exactly the way I kissed her.

She squeezes me, caresses my balls, and then unbuttons, unzips, and pulls me out.

When she looks up at me for permission—or maybe just a warning of what she’s about to do—I shake my head. “Not yet,” I say. “Take them off.”

She pushes my pants down, taking my boxer briefs with them, and I step out, kick off my shoes and pull off my socks. They end up in the pile with the rest of our clothes.

Now I’m the one facing her for consideration.

She sighs. Places her hands on my chest. Sighs again.

I reach over to the dresser, open up a drawer, and take out my swim trunks. I don’t let her dress me, but I do let her watch closely as I pull them up, tuck my dick away, and then take her hand.

“Come on,” I say. “It’s this way.”

We walk to the glass terrace door together. I open it up, and we step out in to the snow, barefoot.

“Holy shit, it’s cold,” Rochelle says, crossing her arms in front of her chest and rubbing her upper arms.

“It won’t be for long,” I say, leading her towards the left. My condo is a corner SkyBox and has a wraparound terrace. The terrace is much bigger than the actual condo. There’s only a few inches of snow on the ground, but the bottoms of my feet are burning by the time we round the corner and the pool comes into view.

The blue water shimmers from the gold underwater lights.

“Holy shit, Quin,” she says, a laugh in her voice.

I have to admit, it’s magical right now. The water is hot. Not the hot tub, the entire fucking pool. It’s taken me three days to get it to this temperature, but it’s worth whatever that cost will be at the end of the month. Because the snow has piled up around the edges. Steam is coming up off the water, creating a mist. And the city lights are a dancing reflection of gold, and red, and blue on the water’s rolling surface.

“You said you missed the hot springs. And, well, I’ll be honest here, Rochelle, I don’t want you getting any ideas. If you need a hot spring to settle down, I’ll make one for you.”

She turns to face me. Her feet have to be frozen. Mine are. But she doesn’t seem to care. She just looks up at me, frowning. “I love you,” she says.