Olive tipped her head back against the headrest behind her. The tips of her long blonde hair dipped into the hot water and darkened. I had a clear view of my wet T-shirt glued to her chest, and her exposed neck was laid out perfectly across from me. It was foolish for me to think the greatest views in Colorado were the snowy mountains. No, it was the rise and fall of Olive’s soft curves that needed to be on a postcard.

I thanked the good Lord that she was wearing a bra under my shirt because the last thing I needed right now was my own Olive Moore-sponsored wet T-shirt contest. My heart raced faster when she let out small whimpers as my thumbs pressed on the inner soles of her delicate foot.

My stomach seized and body temp rose—and not due to the water. I needed any kind of distraction.

“So…fearless Olive, huh?” I did my best to keep my voice calm so she wouldn’t know how incredibly turned on I was.

She leaned her head into her shoulder. “Ugh. I know. I was hoping that wouldn’t come up again.”

“So, what’s changed? Since back then, I mean.” I took advantage of her relaxed state, sliding my hand from her foot up to her ankle and shin. Her skin was smooth but tight, and it was almost worse. I was incredibly grateful for the bubbles moving around my boxers, or this would be a lot more uncomfortable for her.

“Everything.” She sighed when I dug my fingers into her calf.

Everything? I hummed. “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve been here, right?”

Her head tipped back, and she hummed a moan. I knew she was over our conversation, but I clearly wasn’t going to let up.

“Is it because of that ex you mentioned?”

Her arms, which had been swishing back and forth along the surface of the water, stilled. “Yes.” She gave no elaboration.

I trailed my thumbs across her shin and tugged her closer to me, forcing her to lift her head from the rest behind her.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I placed her pink-painted toes against my abs under the water, loving how her skin felt against mine.

“Not really, no,” she said, but didn’t pull away.

From that response alone, I could have an idea of what happened. Olive’s walls were high and strong, but I would chip them down piece by piece to get to her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Just one thing?”

I actually had a million questions, and I smiled that she knew me that well. Do you like cereal better in the morning or at night? How do you feel about sharks? Do you think aliens are real? But those were far down the long list.

“For now…yes.”