He bows theatrically, obviously pleased with himself, and plops down beside me. “Thank you. Thank you.” He laughs, grabbing a half off of the plate and taking a large bite of it. He leans back on an elbow, washboard abs bare and board shorts riding low on his hips. The sight of him is enough of a meal in itself.
We eat, playfully teasing each other, and I silently wonder what’s next. As much as I don’t want to, I think I need to get home and put some distance between the two of us before the night we’ve spent together and the feelings it solidified accidentally come stumbling out of my mouth.
“I told you to leave them,” Colton says from behind me as I wash the dish in my hand. “Grace will get them or I’ll clean them up later.”
“It’s no biggie.”
“Yes it is,” he whispers into my neck, sending an electric pulse straight to my sex as he slides his arms around my waist and pulls me backwards against him.
God, how I could get used to this. I’m grateful he can’t see the look on my face that I’m sure is one of complete satisfaction. Adoration. Contentment.
“Thank you, Rylee.” His voice is so quiet I almost miss the words over the noise of the water.
“It’s one dish and a knife, Colton. Really.”
“No, Rylee. Thank. You.” His words are swamped with sentiment—a man drowning in unfamiliar emotions.
I set the plate down and turn off the water so I can hear him. So I can allow him the moment to express whatever it is he needs to say. I may not be very experienced when it comes to men, but I know enough that in the rare instances that they want to talk about feelings or emotions, it’s time to be quiet and listen.
“For what?” I ask casually.
“For this morning. For letting me work through my shit the way I needed to. For letting me use you for lack of a better term.” He moves my ponytail off of the back of my neck and places a soft kiss there. “For letting me have mine and for you not complaining when you didn’t get yours.”
His words, the thoughtfulness behind them, has me biting my lip to prevent me from making that verbal pitfall I was worried about earlier. I take a second to think of my next words so I don’t take that stumble. “Well, you more than made up giving me mine in the bathtub.”
“Oh really?” He nuzzles that sensitive spot just beneath my ear that drives me crazy. “That’s good to know, but I still think I might need to further remedy the unsettled situation from earlier.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“You are insatiable, Colton.” I laugh, turning in his arms to have my lips captured in a tantalizing kiss that funnels sparks all the way to the tips of my toes. His hands map themselves down my torso and over my backside, pressing me into him.
“Now let’s talk about that image I can’t get out of my head of you with a whip and wearing only bright red stilettos.” The wicked smile on his lips has the heat flowing from my toes back up.
“Ahem!” The clearing of a throat has me jumping back from Colton like I’ve been singed by fire.
I snap my head up, warmth burning through my cheeks when I hear Colton shout out, “Hey, old man!” and then embrace whoever it is in a huge bear hug. They have turned, hugging so fiercely that I can only see Colton’s face, his pleasure evident.
I catch murmured words in gruff tones as they hold on to each other, hands slapping each other’s backs, and when I think I know who it is, my blush deepens at the knowledge that he overheard what Colton had said to me. My hunch is confirmed when the two break apart and the visitor places a hand on the side of Colton’s face and stares at him intently, concern etched on his face over something he sees in his son’s eyes.
“You okay, son?”
Colton holds his father’s stare for a moment, the muscle in his jaw pulsing as he reins in the emotions playing over his face. After a beat he nods his head subtly, a soft smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Yeah…I’m okay, Dad,” he acquiesces before glancing over to me and then back to his dad.
They draw each other into another quick man-hug of loud back slapping before they part, and the clear, gray eyes of Andy Westin dart over to me and then back to Colton, love and I think surprise bordering on shock reflected in them.
“Dad, I want you to meet Rylee.” Colton clears his throat. “Rylee Thomas.”
The woman you will forever think of in correlation with red stilettos and a whip. Lovely. Can I die now?
Andy mirrors my step forward and reaches out a hand to me. I try to act calm, to pretend like I’m not in front of a Hollywood legend who has just caught me in a compromising situation, and when I see the warmth mixed with disbelief in his eyes, I relax some. “Pleased to meet you, Rylee.”
I smile softly, meeting his eyes as I shake his hand. “Likewise, Mr. Westin.”
He’s not big in stature like I expected, but something about him makes him seem larger than life. It’s his smile that captivates me. A smile that could make the hardest of people soften.
“Pshaw, don’t be silly,” he scolds, releasing my hand and brushing his salt and pepper hair off his forehead, “call me Andy.” I smile at him in acceptance as he shifts his gaze back to Colton, a bemused look in his eyes and a pleased smile on his face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”
“You didn’t,” I blurt out. Colton turns to me, an eyebrow arched at my staunch denial, and I’m grateful when he lets it go without correcting me.