Page 34 of On His Knees
From the center of the pond, Summer is laughing, clapping and jumping up and down as I drag myself out of the water, and my pounding heart crashes a little harder against my chest. I love that look on her face, love seeing her so revealing with her emotions like that. I wave my hand for her, and she waves back before letting out a little squeal and cannon-balling into the water. The splash shoots up into the air.
When she comes up the kids are laughing. She swims to shore and runs past me, fast. I catch up with her at a booth nearby where volunteers are handing out blankets. She’s laughing and shivering while we warm up as best we can. “Ohmigod, Tate.”
“I guess you’re rethinking the brilliance of this idea, huh?”
“No, it was fun, and the kids loved you.” We hurry back into the hotel. “I need to change,” she says, her teeth clattering.
We both collect our clothes and disappear into our changing rooms, where I grab a towel and wipe myself down after shedding the wet costume. I leave it in the bin where other costumes have been discarded—to be picked up later by the shop associated with the event—and meet Summer in the lobby again. She runs to me, slides her arms around my waist and hugs me.
“I want your heat,” she says, laughing, and I snake my arms around her, loving the way she’s clinging to me just a little too much.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
Home?
Well, technically the penthouse suite isn’t her home. It’s my grandfather’s.
“We need to warm up,” she says.
I inch back, grab her coat zipper and pull it to her neck. From her pocket I pull out her hat and mitts and help her put them on. Her entire body is shaking.
“Should we stay for the prizes?” she asks.
“No, I need to get you inside and get you warm.”
“I put down my name and room number, so they’ll call if we win anything.”
“I don’t care about the prizes. I only care about you.”
But I can’t care about her. I barely know her. And all I’ve done is lie to her. I also know that while we’re here together, I can’t stay away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Summer
I PUT THE key card in my door, and Tate ushers us in. “Come on, let’s get out of these wet clothes.” He herds me into the bathroom, and that gives me pause. The corner penthouse suite is huge, with numerous rooms leading off the main room. How did he know exactly where to go? Has he been in here before? With other women? Jeez, he’s probably been in every room in every hotel here. I’ve seen the way women look at him, the way his coworker watches him when they’re behind the bar. Did he have sex with her in the storage room, too?
Easy, Summer.
I shut down my mind, not wanting to give the jealousy taking up residence in my stomach any kind of power. Tate and I are having sex, are exclusive for the week. Nothing more, nothing less. I’ve been keeping things to myself, so I can’t expect to know Tate’s business. I considered telling him that I’m a doctor earlier, after he saw me with that boy—would it be a big deal if he knew? He seems like the type of guy who wouldn’t be intimidated by it. But then, why risk changing anything between us? It’s not a big deal if he doesn’t know either...this isn’t going to last beyond the week. I just need to keep things simple and enjoy this while I can.
“Then I’ll pour us some brandy,” he says, his deep raspy voice curling low in my stomach and arousing things in me no other man ever has. How the hell will I ever be able to go back to Manhattan and live a normal life after experiencing this one with Tate? I’m pretty certain he’s going to ruin me for other men. Not that I had time for men back home, building my business, working at the clinic several days a week, and taking care of James.
Lacking any sort of modesty, we both peel our clothes from our bodies and drop them onto the marble bathroom floor. Tate looks me over, and his nostrils flare. Dammit, I love it when he gets all carnal and gazes at me with pure adoration.
“I want my cock inside you again, Summer. But first I need to warm you up in the hot tub.” I nod, and a little jolt of pleasure goes through me at the protectiveness he directs my way. I’ve always been an independent woman—had to be—and I have to say, I kind of like it when this strong, alpha man takes care of me.
“I haven’t tried it out yet.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve kind of been...ah, preoccupied,” I say, and he laughs.
He grabs a big, fluffy towel and wraps me in it, then scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing more than the towel
I’m wrapped in. I slide my arms around him, unable to get close enough. He walks to the bar, sets me down and turns over two brand-new glasses. He fills them both and hands them to me. I follow him to the patio door. The latch sticks, so you have to wiggle it just right, something I learned the first time I went to check out the hot tub. I’m about to tell him there’s a trick to opening it, but stop when he easily opens the door, like he’s done it a million times before. Which of course, he probably has.
Cut it out, Summer.