Chapter 1

Lacey Carver swayed her hips to the faint hum of a pop song playing from her phone on the kitchen counter, the late afternoon sun spilling through the window and glinting off her loose, dirty blonde waves. Her tight white tank top hugged her full breasts, the low neckline revealing a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage that jiggled slightly as she chopped vegetables. At thirty-two, her hourglass figure was a masterpiece of curves—narrow waist flaring into rounded hips, accentuated by the snug denim shorts that barely reached mid-thigh. Her smooth, tanned legs moved with a natural grace, each step a subtle invitation she didn’t even realize she was extending. Her wide, doe-like blue eyes sparkled with warmth as she fumbled with a carrot, giggling softly to herself when it slipped from her fingers. God, I’m such a klutz, she thought, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her glossy lips parting in a small, oblivious smile.

The kitchen was small but cozy, the linoleum floor scuffed from years of use, the counters cluttered with spices and a half-empty wine glass Lacey had poured to “take the edge off.” She was trying to make chicken stir-fry, though she’d already misplaced the soy sauce and forgotten whether she’d added salt. Her mind drifted as she stirred the sizzling pan, her body moving on autopilot, hips swaying, breasts bouncing lightly with each motion. She felt a faint flutter in her stomach, a restless energy she couldn’t place. Probably just hungry, she decided, ignoring the way her skin prickled with an unacknowledged heat.

The front door slammed, and Lacey’s head snapped up, her heart giving a little jump. Dane was home. Her son strode into the kitchen, his presence filling the room like a storm rolling in. At sixteen, Dane Carver was a towering figure, six-foot-three of raw, muscular power. His tight gray t-shirt clung to his sweat-soaked torso, outlining every ripple of his chiseled pecs and abs. The fabric strained against his broad shoulders and thick biceps, damp patches darkening under his arms and across his chest. His dark brown hair was cropped short, slightly mussed from practice, and his piercing green eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her breath catch. Dane’s fitted jeans hugged his powerful thighs, the bulge at his crotch impossible to ignore, though Lacey quickly averted her gaze, cheeks flushing. A faint smirk curled his lips, and his swagger carried the confidence of a predator who knew he owned any space he entered.

“Hey, Mom,” Dane said, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down Lacey’s spine she didn’t understand. He dropped his gym bag by the door, the thud echoing in the small space.

“Hi, sweetie!” Lacey chirped, her voice bright but a touch too high. She turned back to the stove, stirring the pan with renewed focus, though her hands trembled slightly. He’s just ... so grown up now, she thought, trying to dismiss the way her pulse quickened. “How was practice?”

“Grueling,” Dane replied, stepping closer to grab a water bottle from the fridge. His arm brushed hers as he passed, the brief contact sending a jolt through Lacey’s body. She froze for a split second, her lips parting, then forced a smile and kept stirring. It’s nothing, she told herself, though her skin tingled where he’d touched her.

Lacey cleared her throat, desperate to fill the silence. “Um, the kitchen faucet’s leaking again. Could you take a look? You’re so good with that stuff.” Her eyes flicked to him, catching the way his muscles flexed as he twisted the cap off the bottle, his throat working as he gulped the water down. She swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on the sweat glistening on his neck before she yanked it back to the pan.

“Sure thing,” Dane said, his smirk widening as he set the bottle down. He moved to the sink, his body brushing past hers again, closer this time, his hip grazing her lower back. Lacey’s breath hitched, her body tingling with a warmth she refused to name. He’s just being helpful, she thought, gripping the spatula tighter.

Dane knelt under the sink, his broad frame barely fitting in the cramped space. Lacey stole glances as she cooked, her eyes tracing the way his shirt rode up, revealing a strip of taut, tanned skin above his waistband. His hands moved with easy confidence, wrenching the pipe with a grunt that sent another unbidden flutter through her core. She bit her lip, focusing on the stir-fry, though the food was starting to burn. He’s so strong, she thought, then shook her head, embarrassed by the thought. He’s my son, for heaven’s sake.

“Got it,” Dane announced, standing and turning on the faucet to test it. Water flowed smoothly, no drips. He wiped his hands on his jeans, his eyes locking onto hers, that predatory glint making her stomach flip. “Good as new.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Lacey said, her voice breathy. She turned to plate the food, her hands shaking as she scooped rice onto dishes. Dane stepped closer, reaching past her to grab a plate, his chest brushing her shoulder. The heat of his body was overwhelming, and for a moment, Lacey’s mind blanked, her body leaning into him before she caught herself and stepped back, cheeks flaming.

“Dinner smells great,” Dane said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her. He held her gaze a beat too long, his smirk knowing, as if he could see the confusion swirling in her mind. Lacey forced a laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear, and handed him a plate.

“Thanks, sweetie. Let’s eat,” she said, turning away to hide the flush creeping up her neck. It’s just a silly moment, she told herself, ignoring the way her body hummed with a forbidden energy she didn’t dare acknowledge.

Lacey set the steaming plates of stir-fry on the small, wobbly kitchen table, her hands still unsteady from the earlier brush of Dane’s body against hers. The air felt thick, charged with something she couldn’t name, and she busied herself with smoothing the tablecloth, avoiding his piercing green eyes. Her tight tank top clung to her curves, her breasts straining against the fabric as she leaned forward to adjust his plate, unaware of how the motion accentuated her cleavage. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the microwave door—flushed cheeks, glossy lips parted, blonde waves slightly mussed—and quickly looked away, her stomach fluttering. Just focus on dinner, she told herself, sliding into the chair across from Dane.

Dane lounged in his seat, his broad frame dominating the space, the sweat-damp t-shirt still clinging to his chiseled pecs and abs. His thick arms flexed as he reached for his fork, and Lacey’s gaze lingered a moment too long on the way his biceps bulged, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light. She swallowed hard, her fingers fumbling with her own fork as she forced her eyes to her plate. The stir-fry was slightly overcooked, the chicken a bit tough, but the rice was fluffy enough to salvage it. She took a small bite, chewing slowly, trying to ignore the heat radiating from her son across the table.

“So,” Lacey said, her voice a touch too bright, “how was your day, sweetie? Besides practice, I mean.” She smiled, her wide blue eyes meeting his briefly before darting back to her food. He’s so intense sometimes, she thought, her heart giving a little skip.

Dane smirked, leaning back in his chair, his long legs stretching out under the table until his knee brushed hers. The contact sent a jolt through Lacey, her breath catching, but she didn’t move away. “Same old,” he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel. “Coach was on my ass about footwork, but I crushed it. Forced two fumbles that had the guys cheering.” His eyes locked onto hers, that predatory glint making her skin prickle. “What about you, Mom? Lose your keys again?”

Lacey’s cheeks flushed pink, and she let out a nervous giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, stop it,” she said, swatting the air playfully, though her fingers trembled. “I only misplaced them once this week, thank you very much.” She took a sip of her wine, the glass cool against her lips, but it did little to calm the warmth spreading through her chest. He’s just teasing, she told herself, ignoring the way her body hummed when his knee pressed lightly against hers again, lingering this time.

“Yeah, right,” Dane said, his smirk widening as he speared a piece of chicken. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you’d be hopeless.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes roamed over her face, dipping briefly to her chest before returning to her gaze, and Lacey felt her flush deepen, her skin tingling under his scrutiny.

“Dane!” she scolded, though her voice was more flustered than stern. She shifted in her seat, her shorts riding up slightly, exposing more of her smooth, tanned thighs. “I’m not that ditzy. I got through a whole day at the bank without messing up any paperwork, I’ll have you know.” She stuck out her tongue, a playful gesture that felt oddly intimate under his intense stare, and her stomach flipped when his smirk turned into a low chuckle.

“Sure you did,” he said, his voice dripping with mock skepticism. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, closing the distance between them. The scent of his sweat and faint cologne hit her, musky and overwhelming, and Lacey’s pulse quickened. “Bet you forgot someone’s name or double-counted a deposit, though. Admit it.”

Lacey laughed, the sound a little breathless, and shook her head. “You’re awful,” she said, but her smile was wide, her eyes sparkling with a mix of embarrassment and delight. He’s so confident, she thought, her gaze flickering to his strong jaw, the way his lips curled around the words. She pushed a piece of carrot around her plate, trying to focus on the conversation and not the way her body seemed to lean toward him, drawn like a magnet. “Okay, fine, maybe I called Mr. Thompson ‘Mr. Thomas’ once, but he didn’t mind. Said I was charming.” She batted her lashes exaggeratedly, then giggled, though the heat in Dane’s eyes made her laughter falter.

“Charming, huh?” Dane said, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. His knee pressed harder against hers under the table, a deliberate pressure now, and Lacey’s breath hitched, her fork pausing mid-air. For a moment, the kitchen felt too small, the air too warm, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from his. It’s nothing, she thought desperately, her heart pounding. Just silly teasing. She forced herself to look down, taking a quick bite to cover her confusion, though her throat felt tight.

“So, um,” Lacey said, grasping for a change of topic, “what’s your evening looking like? Got any big plans?” Her voice was overly cheerful, and she tucked her hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit she couldn’t shake. She took another sip of wine, hoping it would steady her nerves.

Dane leaned back, his smirk returning, cocky and self-assured. “Got a date,” he said, his tone casual but laced with a hint of pride. “Some foreign-exchange chick from Latvia. Karina, or something like that. She’s gorgeous—long legs, blonde, killer accent.” His eyes flicked over Lacey, as if comparing, and her stomach twisted with a sudden, sharp pang she didn’t want to name.

“Oh,” Lacey said, her smile tightening. She set her glass down, her fingers lingering on the stem. Jealousy? No, that’s ridiculous, she thought, pushing the feeling down. “That sounds ... nice. Karina’s a pretty name.” Her voice was too bright, and she busied herself with cutting a piece of chicken, though her appetite was fading. The image of Dane with some stunning, leggy blonde made her chest ache, and she hated herself for it. He’s my son. He’s sixteen. He’s supposed to date.

“Yeah, she’s hot,” Dane said, his smirk widening as he watched her, like he could sense her discomfort. “Figure we’ll grab some late dessert, maybe come back here and use the hot tub out back. You cool with that?” His tone was almost challenging, and his eyes held hers, searching, as if daring her to object.

Lacey’s heart skipped, her mind flashing to Dane in the hot tub, shirtless, water glistening on his muscular frame, that Karina pressed close to him. Her throat went dry, and she forced a nod, her smile strained. “Of course, sweetie. Just ... have fun and be careful, okay?” Her voice was soft, almost pleading, and she hated how vulnerable it sounded. He’s young. He’s allowed to have fun, she told herself, ignoring the way her body tensed at the thought of him with another woman.

Dane’s smirk softened, but his eyes didn’t waver. “Always am,” he said, his voice low, and the way he said it sent another shiver through her, unbidden and unwelcome. He took a slow bite, his gaze never leaving her, and Lacey felt exposed, like he could see every confused thought swirling in her head.

Trying to shift the focus, Dane tilted his head, his knee still pressed against hers under the table. “What about you? Still seeing that loser, what’s his name?” His tone was teasing again, but there was an edge to it, a possessive undercurrent that made Lacey’s skin prickle.

“Richard,” she corrected, her voice sharper than she intended. She set her fork down, her cheeks flushing again. “And he’s not a loser. He’s ... nice. We have a date this weekend, actually.” She forced a smile, but it felt hollow. Richard was older, balding, with a soft paunch and a tendency to fumble in bed, often leaving her unsatisfied and doubting her own allure. He’s kind, she thought, though even in her mind, it sounded like an excuse. “Be nice, Dane. He treats me well.”

Dane snorted, leaning forward, his elbows on the table again. “Nice? Come on, Mom. You deserve better than some limp-dick old guy.” His words were blunt, crude, and Lacey gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, though a traitorous part of her agreed. His eyes bored into hers, intense and unyielding, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe, the air between them crackling with something dangerous.

“Dane, that’s enough,” she said, her voice trembling, though she couldn’t muster real anger. Her body was betraying her, a warmth pooling low in her belly, and she shifted in her seat, crossing her legs to quell it. He’s just being protective, she told herself, but the way his knee pressed harder against hers, the way his gaze lingered on her lips, made her doubt it. She took a shaky breath, forcing a laugh. “Let’s just eat, okay? No more teasing.”

Dane’s smirk returned, but he didn’t push further, taking another bite as his eyes stayed on her, watchful, predatory. Lacey focused on her plate, her heart pounding, her body humming with a forbidden energy she refused to acknowledge. The kitchen felt smaller than ever, the tension between them a living thing, coiled and ready to snap.

Dane gripped the wheel of his beat-up Chevy, the engine’s low rumble vibrating through the worn leather seat. At sixteen, he cut an imposing figure, six-foot-three and two hundred ten pounds of lean muscle, his broad shoulders straining the seams of a snug black t-shirt. His cropped dark brown hair was still damp from a quick after-dinner shower, and his piercing green eyes flicked to the road, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His fitted jeans hugged his powerful thighs, the bulge of his cock pressing against the denim, semi-hard from the warm weight of the girl beside him. Katya was hot, no question, but Dane’s mind kept drifting, snagging on thoughts of his mother, Lacey, her curves and ditzy charm a nagging distraction he couldn’t quite shake.

Katya, the Latvian exchange student, lounged in the passenger seat, her fifteen-year-old body a study in effortless sex appeal. Her platinum blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a sharp face with high cheekbones and glossy pink lips. Her emerald eyes sparkled with playful energy, and her red crop top clung to her perky breasts, the hem riding up to show a sliver of tanned midriff. A black leather miniskirt hugged her hips, barely covering her long, slender legs, which were crossed in a way that drew Dane’s eye, her strappy heels tapping the floorboard. She was gorgeous, another conquest in Dane’s endless string of them, but her name had slipped his mind earlier—he’d called her “Karina” at dinner, only now remembering it was Katya. Whatever, he thought, his smirk twitching. She’s just another score.

Dane’s hand rested on Katya’s thigh, his fingers grazing her soft, warm skin just below her skirt’s hem. She didn’t flinch, giggling instead, her accent thick and teasing. His cock stirred, a low throb of arousal from her closeness, but his thoughts wandered back to his mother. At dinner, her tight tank top had hugged her full breasts, her hips swaying as she moved around the kitchen, those wide blue eyes catching his for a moment too long. She’s too damn pretty, he thought, a faint heat curling in his gut, not the raging lust he usually felt for his conquests, but something quieter, more unsettling. It was wrong, he knew, but the image of her lingered, tugging at his focus.

Katya’s voice bounced through the car, her broken English spilling out in a lively stream. “In America, you have these ... big stores? Like, so many cereals! In Riga, we have maybe five kinds, but here, whole wall of boxes!” She laughed, tossing her hair, her breasts jiggling slightly in the crop top. “And the names! ‘Frosted Flakes,’ ‘Lucky Charms’—like food for kids, but adults eat it!” Her accent twisted the words, “cereal” coming out as “see-ree-al,” and she leaned closer, her hand brushing his arm, her cheap floral perfume tickling his nose.

Dane nodded absently, his eyes on the road, but his mind drifted to Lacey again. The way she’d blushed when he teased her about being ditzy, her nervous giggle when she fumbled her wine glass. She’s too good for that loser Richard, he thought, his jaw tightening. The guy was balding, soft, probably couldn’t even satisfy her. Lacey needed someone stronger, someone who could handle her, take charge of the house, of her. Not Dane, obviously—that was fucked up—but the thought of her with another weak-ass guy grated on him. His cock twitched, more from Katya’s thigh under his palm than his mother, but Lacey’s face kept flashing in his mind, her curves a distracting hum in the background.

“You see these signs, Dane? Billboards? So big, everywhere!” Katya went on, oblivious to his wandering thoughts. “In Latvia, we have small signs, maybe for shop or café. Here, it’s like, ‘Buy car! Eat burger! Call lawyer!’ All screaming at you!” She giggled, her hand resting on his, encouraging his touch, her long nails grazing his skin. “And the coffee cups, so huge! I order small, and it’s like bucket!” Her voice was bright, her accent turning bucket into book-et, and Dane forced a chuckle, his hand sliding a fraction higher on her thigh, more out of reflex than intent.

His mind snagged on Lacey again, unbidden. The way she’d tucked her hair behind her ear at dinner, her lips parting as she laughed, that faint flush on her cheeks. She’s always so damn flustered, he thought, a mix of amusement and something darker stirring in his chest. He didn’t want her—not like that, not really—but the idea of her needing a real man, someone to fix the leaks and fuck her right, kept circling his thoughts. It was a distraction, not a fire, but it was there, persistent, making his smirk falter for a split second. His fingers tightened on Katya’s thigh, grounding himself in her heat, her availability.

“Dane?” Katya’s voice sharpened, cutting through his haze. She tilted her head, her pouty lips pursed, one eyebrow arched. “You hear me, or you somewhere else?” Her hand squeezed his, her green eyes narrowing, though a teasing smile played on her lips.

Dane blinked, his smirk snapping back into place, all cocky charm. “Nah, babe, I’m right here,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with confidence. He turned his head, letting his eyes rake over her—those perky tits, that barely-there skirt—before meeting her gaze. “Just loving that sexy accent of yours. Keep going, it’s hot.” His hand slid a bit higher, fingers brushing the edge of her skirt, and Katya’s smile widened, her suspicion easing as she leaned into him.

“You think my accent sexy?” she said, her voice playful, her shoulder brushing his arm. “Okay, I tell more. In America, you have ... what is it ... food trucks? For tacos, burgers, all on street! In Riga, we go to market, buy fresh, cook at home. Here, you eat in car, so fast!” She laughed again, her breasts bouncing, and Dane nodded, his smirk fixed, though his thoughts drifted back to Lacey for a moment—her in the kitchen, her hips swaying, her needing someone to take control.

He pushed the image away, focusing on Katya’s warm thigh, the promise of the hot tub waiting at home. The Chevy rumbled on, the Carver house just a few blocks out, and Dane’s grip on the wheel tightened, his mind caught between the girl beside him and the woman he shouldn’t be thinking about at all.

Dane eased the Chevy into the driveway, the engine’s rumble cutting off as he killed the ignition. The Carver house loomed dark and quiet, the only light a faint glow from the living room window where Lacey might’ve left a lamp on. Dane’s green eyes glinted with predatory confidence. His jeans hugged his thighs, the semi-hard bulge of his cock still pressing against the denim, stirred by Katya’s warm thigh under his hand during the drive.

“C’mon,” Dane said, his voice low, nodding toward the side gate as he climbed out. “We’ll go through the back. Don’t wanna wake my mom.” His smirk was cocky, but his eyes scanned the house, half-expecting to see Lacey’s silhouette. The thought of her asleep, maybe in some skimpy nightie, sent a faint heat through his gut, but he shook it off, leading Katya toward the gate.

Katya hesitated, her strappy heels clicking on the pavement as she followed, her platinum blonde hair catching the moonlight. Her red crop top and leather miniskirt hugged her fifteen-year-old curves—perky breasts, tight ass, long legs that seemed to go on forever. Her emerald eyes darted nervously toward the house, her glossy lips parting. “Dane, you sure this okay?” she said, her accent thick, turning sure into shoor. “What if your mom hears? Or neighbors see us in hot tub? I do not want trouble.”

Dane chuckled, his hand brushing her lower back, guiding her through the gate. The backyard was shadowed, the hot tub a dark bulk under a wooden pergola. “Relax, babe,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with charm. “Mom’s out cold by now, and the neighbors don’t care. Fence is high enough.” His fingers lingered on her waist, feeling her shiver under his touch, and his smirk widened. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Katya bit her lip, her eyes flickering between the house and Dane’s towering frame. “I trust, but ... it is so open here,” she said, her voice wavering. “In Latvia, we don’t do this, sneak in backyard for hot tub. What if someone looks over fence?” Her hands twisted together, but her body leaned slightly into his, drawn by his confidence.

Dane stepped closer, his broad chest nearly brushing hers, his voice dropping to a husky rumble. “No one’s looking, Katya. Just you and me, and this hot tub’s gonna feel real good.” He tilted her chin up with a finger, locking eyes, his gaze intense enough to make her breath hitch. “You’re not chickening out on me, are you?” His smirk was teasing, but his tone carried a challenge, and he felt her resistance waver, her lips parting as she nodded slowly.

“Okay, okay,” she said, a nervous giggle escaping. “But you promise we don’t get caught, yes?” Her accent made promise sound like proh-mees, and Dane’s cock twitched, her nervousness only stoking his arousal.

“Promise,” he said, his grin wolfish as he led her to the hot tub. He flipped the switch, and the jets hummed to life, the water starting to bubble and steam. Dane didn’t hesitate, peeling off his t-shirt to reveal a sculpted torso—rippling abs, thick pecs, and biceps that flexed with every move. His tanned skin gleamed under the faint backyard lights, a faint sheen of sweat from the warm night air. He kicked off his sneakers and jeans, leaving him in tight black boxer briefs that hugged his muscular ass and did nothing to hide the thick, semi-hard outline of his eleven-inch cock.

Katya’s eyes widened, her breath catching as she stared at his body, her nervousness momentarily forgotten. “Oh ... you are ... very strong,” she murmured, her accent thick, her gaze lingering on his abs, then dipping lower before she blushed and looked away. She fidgeted, her fingers tugging at the hem of her crop top. “I do not know, Dane ... this feels ... risky. What if your mom comes out? Or neighbors see me in ... in underwear?”

Dane laughed, low and rough, stepping closer until he loomed over her. “Babe, no one’s gonna see shit,” he said, his voice dripping with assurance. “And you’re not gonna make me soak alone, are you?” His eyes raked over her body—those perky tits straining her top, the curve of her ass in that tiny skirt—and his cock hardened further, pressing against his briefs. “C’mon, Katya. Strip down. You’ll look fucking hot in the water.” His tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument, and he saw her resolve crumble, her hands moving hesitantly to her top.

Katya exhaled shakily, then pulled off her crop top, revealing a lacy black bra that barely contained her full, perky breasts. Her cheeks flushed as she unzipped her miniskirt, letting it fall to reveal matching black panties, the fabric clinging to her tight ass and the slight curve of her hips. Her long legs trembled slightly, and she crossed her arms over her chest, glancing nervously at the fence. “This is crazy,” she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. “If someone sees, I die of shame. You sure your mom sleeps?”

“Dead sure,” Dane said, his smirk widening as he took in her body, her tanned skin glowing in the dim light, her curves begging to be touched. His cock throbbed, fully hard now, and he didn’t bother hiding it. “Get in, babe. You’re killing me standing there.” His voice was a low growl, and before she could protest again, he grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the hot tub with a playful yank.

Katya shrieked as he pulled her in, the warm water splashing over them as they tumbled into the bubbling jets. “Dane!” she gasped, laughing despite herself, her hair sticking to her shoulders as she steadied herself against him. Her hands landed on his chest, her fingers grazing his hard pecs, and her eyes widened at the feel of his raw power. Dane didn’t give her a chance to pull back, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her close until her slick, wet body pressed against his.

His mouth crashed onto hers, the kiss aggressive, all teeth and tongue, claiming her with a hunger that made her gasp into his lips. Katya melted against him, her initial resistance dissolving under his animal magnetism, her arms looping around his neck as she kissed him back, her lips soft and eager. Dane’s hands roamed her body, one sliding down to grip her ass, squeezing the firm flesh through her soaked panties, the other tangling in her wet hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. His cock pressed against her thigh through his briefs, rock-hard and pulsing, and he groaned into her mouth, the heat of the water and her body driving him wild.

Katya’s breaths came in short, needy gasps between kisses, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest, the lacy bra doing little to dull the sensation. “Dane ... oh,” she moaned, her accent thicker with arousal, her thighs squeezing together as his hand kneaded her ass, pulling her closer. She kissed him harder, her tongue tangling with his, her body trembling with a mix of nerves and desire. The jets bubbled around them, the steam rising, and Dane’s arousal surged, his kisses growing rougher, his grip tighter, as he lost himself in the feel of her, the hot tub amplifying every touch.

Dane’s mind stayed locked on Katya now, her slick curves and desperate moans fueling his hunger, though a faint echo of Lacey—her flushed cheeks, her swaying hips—lingered in the back of his mind, a distraction he ignored. He bit Katya’s lower lip, tugging gently, and she whimpered, her body pliant against his, her arousal evident in the way she ground her hips against him, seeking more. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he growled against her mouth, his voice rough with need, and Katya’s answering moan was all the encouragement he needed to keep going, the hot tub their private world of steam and lust.

Dane’s hands gripped Katya’s slick waist, the hot tub’s bubbling jets swirling around them as he pulled her down into the steaming water. The sudden dunk submerged them both, the warm, frothing waves soaking their bodies, plastering her platinum blonde hair to her shoulders and making her lacy black bra cling to her perky breasts. His green eyes burned with predatory hunger, his lips locked on Katya’s in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue, claiming her with unrelenting force. His hands roamed her curves, one sliding up her back, fingers deftly unhooking her bra with a practiced flick.