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She turns to me, catching me staring, and grabs my hand. I lift her into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist. The only thing between us is two tiny pieces of fabric.
I use one hand to hold her against me and my free hand to unclasp her bra. Her breath locks in her lungs, and I can't help but laugh.
"What?" She growls.
"You're nervous."
She sinks her lips to my shoulder, using them to trace the top of my tattoo, "Am not."
"Prove it," I demand, and she crashes her mouth against mine. Each movement she makes is mirrored with mine.
Matched. Copied. Perfect.
My eyes close, her eyes close, but both open quickly when flashing red and blue lights fill the darkness from the windows.
She gasps, fishing around in the water for her bra.
A throat-clearing cough from the other side of the room interrupts us, and we're caught. Red-handed.
"Shit," I murmur. My eyes dart quickly to the edge of the pool where our clothes sit and the closest door, trying to decide if we can make it.
She looks at me, her eyes wild and reckless. We pause for half a second before she nods, reading my mind.
We make a run for it.
