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Twenty minutes pass beforeOliver finds me quietly crying in his bed. He doesn’t question me, simply crawls into the bed with me and curls up against my back. I press my eyes closed, and a few tears escape when he wraps himself around me in a hug. He says nothing, just holds me tight and runs his fingers through my hair. He knows me well enough to know that I need both comfort and space.
When I have control of my tears, I sniffle and break the silence. “Sorry.” I wipe at my salt-crusted cheeks. “Parker was asleep in my room. I didn’t want to wake him.”
Oliver kisses my head and squeezes me even tighter. “You know you’re always welcome in my bed.”
I snort because he said it kindly enough that it could easily be taken as sincere instead of the innuendo that it was. Not many realize it, but Oliver isn’t as innocent as he would have people believe.
At my laugh, Oliver leans up on his elbow and urges me to face him. I roll toward him, and he thumbs the last of my tears away. My eyes flutter shut, encouraging Oliver to touch me more. He trails his fingertips along my arms so lightly that a violent shiver rocks me. When he reaches my wrist, he takes my hand, lacing our fingers together, and kisses the corner of my mouth. I’m now a melted puddle of need, but Oliver’s thoughts aren’t nearly as heated as mine. “Will you come with me somewhere?” he asks.
I catch an image of Wulf’s place in his mind. His thoughts are specifically on the pool in his gym. I’m so surprised that I sit up. “You want to take me swimming?”
Oliver sighs playfully. “No surprising a mind reader.”
I crack a smile. “Not when you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
Oliver chuckles. “Worth it.” He kisses the back of my hand before sitting up. “So do you want to go? Get out of here for a while, just you and me?”
That sounds like heaven, but there’s a problem. “I don’t own a swimsuit.”
Oliver gives me a sheepish shrug. His cheeks frost with the lightest layer of pink. “I sort of already bought you one. I’ve just been waiting for the right time to give it to you.”
My eyebrows fly up, though I shouldn’t be so surprised. Oliver is a swimmer. It’s his thing. Of course he’d want to share that with me. “I also don’t know how to swim,” I point out.
“I can fix that.” He pulls me off the bed and grabs a gym bag from his closet. “Come on. You’re a siren. A water faerie. You’ll probably be more at home in the pool than you’ve ever been on land.”
“I’m not arguing with you.” I flash him a wicked grin. “I’m just wondering if you swim in a Speedo.”
The pink returns to Ollie’s cheeks, but he chuckles again and shakes his head. “Not since my high school swim team.”
“Bummer.”
Oliver meets my gaze with surprising confidence. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed even if I’m wearing my board shorts.”
Damn. My adorable one just went and got sexy on me.
Oliver’s lips quirk up into the tiniest, cocky smile, and he nods his head toward the bedroom door. “Come on.”
. . . . .
I stand in the bathroom at Wulf’s place, scared to join Oliver in the pool. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous. It could just be the amount of skin I’m showing. I trust Oliver, but I’ve never been this undressed in front of someone before.
I look pretty good, though. Oliver has great taste. I’m wearing a jade boy shorts and halter-top bikini. It’s both cute and sexy. And my body has some definition for the first time in my life. It’s not hard enough to cut glass on or anything, but there’s some outline to my muscles thanks to all of Rook’s training.
I take a deep breath and try to suppress the butterflies in my stomach when I exit the bathroom and join Oliver by the water. The pool itself isn’t huge. It’s a simple and functional rectangle with a few lap lanes on one side and a deep end with a diving board.
Oliver is already in the water, standing waist deep near the edge of the pool. My mouth dries up, and those butterflies I was trying to suppress? Yeah, they busted the hell out and are going wild in my stomach. Oliver may be a little on the pale side, but his body is perfection. He’s tall and lean, and unlike me, his musclesarehard enough to cut glass on. I want to touch him very, very badly. I want to trace every groove. Possibly with my tongue. My body warms at the idea of tasting him.
I’m surprised by my own thoughts. I’m not normally so lusty. Usually, even the idea of getting naked with a man is enough to throw me into a panic. I’ve never been able to imagine it without it ending horrifically. But I trust Oliver.
“Hey. You coming in or what?”
I shake myself from my slightly pornographic daydream and make my way to the edge of the pool. I sit down on the ledge and dip my feet into the water. It’s heated, but not quite as warm as bathwater. Goose bumps rise on my skin. “It’s a little cool,” I say.
Oliver moves in front of me. “Come all the way in, and you’ll get used to it faster.”
I hesitate long enough that Oliver steps forward and places his hands on my knees. “You’re not scared of the water, are you? Is that why you never learned to swim?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s more a lack of exposure. All those foster parents and group homes in the ghetto weren’t exactly handing out passes to the Y or taking me to the lake. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been in a pool or lake.”
