As my breathing settled, as my lust-crazed stupor wore off — I realized…
I came in my goddamn swim trunks.
No warning. No control.
I was still breathing hard, still frozen, still blinking through the aftershocks as she stared down at me.
Juniper’s mouth parted. “Did you just…”
I dropped my head onto her shoulder with a groan. “Don’t. Please don’t.”
She let out the softest laugh. “Youabsolutelydid.”
“I hate myself.”
“You shouldn’t.” Her voice was smug, warm. “It’s flattering.”
“Juniper.”
“What?”
“You’re not allowed to be proud of that.”
“Oh, I am. Maybe even a little turned on.”
She pulled back, still straddling my lap in the dim edge of thepool, water curling around us like we hadn’t just committed absolute war crimes against basic decency.
Her grin was sharp. “IruinedAnsel Barlowe in a pair of vintage bikini bottoms.”
I dragged a hand over my face.
She leaned in. “Just imagine what I could do with a bed.”
CHAPTER 19
What the fuck was that?
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’tblink.
My legs were still wrapped tight around his waist. My hand still curled around the back of his neck. My bikini was clinging in all the wrong places. And Ansel Barlowe — former heartthrob, movie star, stupidly good at everything (except hiding the fact he’d just rutted into me until hecamein his goddamn swim shorts) — was still staring at me like I’d just rearranged his internal organs.
Which… maybe I had?
A laugh caught in my throat, sharp and dangerous. I smothered it behind a cough.
Ishouldhave been embarrassed. Ishouldhave been mortified. I’d just climbed him like a tree in the middle of a pool party and dry humped the literal star of the film until he fell apart under my hands. In public. Withgueststwenty feet away.
But the only thing I felt?
Was smug. Andwet. And turned on enough I was seriouslyconsidering luring him into the cabana bathroom and finishing what we started. Because whilehe’dgotten his happy little Hollywood ending, I… had not.
Not that I minded.
Watching him come apart like that?
Top five hottest moments of my entire life.
(Top three, if we’re being honest.)
