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It takes everything I have inside to swallow past the thick lump that has settled in the middle of my throat. “What’s not to like?”
No, I’m serious.
What’s not to like?
The man is utterly gorgeous. He should be advertising expensive underwear on a billboard somewhere. This is exactly why girls come out of the woodwork and offer up phony stories about him.
His fingers drop to the button of his jeans, where they hesitate long enough to send my heart pounding into overdrive before a metal snap breaks the silence of the morning. Only then do I become aware of the air trapped in my lungs and have to make a conscious effort to force it out again.
With a ridiculous amount of leisure, he lowers the metal teeth of his fly. Rowan Michaels is giving me my very own private strip-tease. Do you have any idea what most girls on campus would give to be in my position?
We’re talking first-born sons.
The denim material is shoved down muscular thighs before it puddles around his ankles, and he’s standing in nothing more than a pair of form-fitting black boxer-briefs.
My mouth turns cottony as a knowing smirk curls around the edges of his lips.
And you know what?
I couldn’t give a crap.
He deserves every ounce of ego where his body is concerned. It’s a thing of beauty. I get a few moments to eat him up with my eyes before he stalks toward me. Once he closes the distance, he places a hand on each armrest of the chair, effectively caging me in. His lips hover over mine, stroking back and forth. When he finally draws away, it feels as if I’m burning up inside. My panties have dampened. I don’t have to wait long for his next move. He slides his arms around my body and scoops me up. It’s an effortless movement. As if I weigh nothing at all. My legs tangle around his lean waist as my arms do the same with his neck. Awareness sizzles through me as my core is pressed against his tight abdominals. When he hoists me higher, the grinding motion nearly sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks, his voice barely penetrating the loud rush of the ocean that fills my ears.
Oh, my God...
Is he talking about sex?
Instead of walking toward the sliding door and inside the house like I expect, he swings in the opposite direction.
I don’t understand. Are we going to do it outside? It’s not like I’m opposed to the idea, but I thought—
“Hang on,” he murmurs.
Hang on?
Too late do I realize his intent. With me secured tightly in his arms, Rowan jumps into the deep end of the pool. Not that it does any good, but a protest bursts from my lips as we hit the water.
22
Rowan
Demi sputters as we surface from the crystal-clear liquid. Tiny waves lap at our bodies. Eyes wide with shock, she stares at me with a slack-jawed expression. My shoulders shake with silent laughter. Mentally, I prepare myself for the ass-chewing I’m about to receive.
It takes a moment for the edges of her lips to tremble and laughter to bubble up from deep within her throat. Just when I think all is forgiven, she slaps her palm against the water, splashing me in the face.
“I can’t believe you did that!” She untangles herself and sprays me again.
That makes two of us. Things were just starting to heat up, and who knows what would have happened had I walked us into the house instead of the pool. Actually, I know exactly what would have transpired. I want this girl in the worst possible way. But I also want to take this slow.
I shield my eyes with one hand before retaliating. Hey, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, right? Or some shit like that.
With a squeal, Demi swims away from me. As she puts more distance between us, she kicks a steady stream of water in my direction. In case you might have forgotten, her legs are muscular. She can easily keep this up for days. The grin on her face tells me that she knows it as well.
“Now you’re in trouble,” I bellow, rising up from the water like the Loch Ness Monster, and leaping at her with outstretched arms.
She yelps and tries to twist away. The operative word in that sentence being tries. I get my hands on her for a moment before her slippery flesh slides through my fingers, and she sprays water in my eyes. For the next fifteen minutes, we splash around and play. I’ve swum in Coach’s pool dozens of times. He usually invites the team over for a barbeque during the season, and Demi is always there to help out.
Do I necessarily like the guys ogling her in a bikini?
