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My body buzzes. The water is cold on my lips, tongue, cheeks, but it does nothing to temper the heat racing through me.

He runs his hand through his hair. “You good?”

I’d be better if we were naked. “Yeah.”

“You’re welcome.”

I flip him off.

He chuckles.

This is it. He’s relaxed. We’re sweaty and half-naked. And losing the light.

I pull out my cell. “Let’s take a picture.”

He raises a brow.

“Life doesn’t happen unless you document it on social media.”

“I don’t do social media.”

“You post all of your tattoos on Instagram.”

“That’s for work.”

“You have a Facebook. You just ignore it.” Or, more accurately, he’s ignored it since he and Penny broke up.

But that’s an ugly technicality.

He pulls out his cell. “I’ll do you first.”

Yes. Strip off my shorts and panties then plant your head between my legs. I want to tug on your hair as I come. “I’m a mess.”

“How?”

I motion to my flushed, sweaty face.

“You look just fucked.”

“I’m wearing too many clothes.”

He shakes his head. “You’re wearing nothing.”

“Uh… Okay.” This is good. I’m wearing nothing. I look just fucked. If I post this, write something sexy, Penny will see it.

Text him.

Like it.

Somehow goad him into doing this.

I smile, attempting a casual pose.

He stares at the cell screen.

I press my lips into a smile.

Click.

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