Kaleidoscope (Colorado Mountain #6)(62)

He kept an arm around her, turned her to tuck her into his side and went back to the stove after kissing her temple.

“I brought my bathing suit,” she informed him.

“Won’t need it,” he informed her.

Her arms, both around his middle, gave him a squeeze and a slight shake.

“Jacob, honey, I want to go swimming because I want to go swimming and because I feel it’s my environmental duty to use that pool as often as I can seeing as you’re wasting so much energy to heat it.”

He looked down at her. “I didn’t say we weren’t going swimming. I said you won’t need your suit.”

Her face changed, her eyes drifting half closed and he felt her body shiver.

“And I also didn’t tell you, murgh makhani comes with my personal label ale and leads into turtle sundaes,” he continued.

At that, her body melted into his side.

“Awesome food, homemade beer and skinny-dipping,” she whispered. “Have I told you I like you today?”

“No. You told me you really like me,” he contradicted, and she did, that morning, about thirty seconds after she watched him come, which was after he made her come.

She melted deeper into him, tipping her head back. “You’re right. That’s what I said because that’s what I meant.”

Her body, the invitation of her mouth, her words, he didn’t let it slide.

But when he bent his neck to take her mouth that time, it wasn’t quick.

* * *

Three hours later…

“Fuck, Emme.”

He was close but she was closer, losing concentration while riding him, his ass to one of the steps of his pool, water up to his neck, Emme holding on tight, moving through the water, her sex convulsing as she took his cock, something he knew meant she was near the edge.

Something he knew she’d let fly.

He liked that, loved giving it to her, but he was as close as she was and watching her come without taking that pu**y was pure torture, and when she lost concentration, he might have her pu**y but he wasn’t taking it.

So he put his hands to her waist and pulled her off his cock. She cried out as he surged out of the water, taking her with him by bending at the same time, wrapping her around his neck.

She cried out again but this time it was, “Jacob!” as the slap of cold air hit them, her hands grabbing onto him as best she could.

He went to the French doors, threw one open, got them in the warmth and pushed it closed. Then he stalked to the couch.

“Jacob!” she yelled again. “We’re all wet.”

He bent his back and neck, tossing her wet and na**d on his couch. “Don’t f**kin’ care.”

“We’re gonna ruin your—”

“Spread, baby. Now. One leg over the back of the couch. One foot to the floor.”

She shut up, her eyes locked to his, her face flushed, hair wet, tangled and all over his couch. She opened her legs, throwing one over the back of the couch, putting one foot to the floor.

Fuck him.

Gorgeous.

He covered her, took her mouth and thrust deep.

Her arms rounded him and her whimper raced down his throat.

Soon, her pu**y convulsed as she took his c**k and her whimpers turned to heated mews.

But he was close too.

And he brought them home together, bodies and mouths connected, her cry mingled with groan.

Magnificent.

* * *

Two days later…

It was four o’clock in the morning and Deck was in Emme’s library, at her desk, computer on, file spread out at its side, working.

He’d decided that, once they sorted the outside and the kitchen, he’d talk her into focusing on this room because he liked it.

She’d cleaned it, polished the copious wood of the shelves and carved paneled inlays and it was furnished. But there were holes left from the rewiring and parts of the wall that were not wood but plaster had been papered circa 1968 and whoever chose the wallpaper had not chosen something that would become retro chic. There wasn’t much of it, but it was so bad, the little of it there was was an eyesore.

“Honey, is everything okay?”

He turned and saw his girl, barefoot, hair tousled and in his shirt, only a few buttons done up, walking his way.

Seeing her in his shirt, he mentally calculated the distance to the guest room, inventoried the library’s furniture and decided on the couch and uninhibited noise. No way their sounds would carry up to the guest room, even if her mom and dad were awake.

Still, they’d close the door.

“Things are fine,” he answered as she stopped at his side.

Her eyes slid over the desk and computer and he turned in her chair, a big baronial one she said she inherited from her father when he redecorated his office in Denver.

“Come here,” Deck murmured. She looked to him, down to his lap, around the chair, hesitated a second then climbed on, knees in the seat beside him, ass to his thighs.

He put hands to her ass, pushing up his shirt and finding no panties.

He started to get hard.

Fuck, he’d had his share of women, but none had made him react like Emme did.

He knew it wasn’t all about her beauty, that hair, those eyes.

It was about her going wild.

And it was that her face still registered surprise sometimes when he was giving it to her, she knew she was going to get it, it wasn’t going slip away, and he liked that. It was cute. It was hot. But it was something only he gave her, which was well beyond cute or hot.