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“I don’t know. It never really crossed my mind, I guess.”
“Well, it should,” he says with a hint of mischief in his voice. He suddenly pulls his feet out, the pull of water causing a small tidal wave to spill from the pool. I lift my legs to avoid getting wet and yelp, bringing my hands up to shield myself. Then he starts to undress, skillfully removing his shirt, pulling it over his shoulders before letting it rustle up his hair. He shakes his head when he reappears, and his eyes meet mine, playfulness written all over them. His brows wriggle upwards, teasing and making me blush in response. After unbuttoning his pants and shimmying them down, he kicks them off and leaves them on top of the rest of his clothes.
He’s now in just his boxer briefs, and my eyes wander from his hard chest to his chiseled abs and down to his long legs. His lean, muscular body is so much more detailed than when I’ve seen him in movies. I notice every ridge and curve that defines each muscle, like the deepVthat forms at his hips and the striated muscles that pull along the length of his thighs. He’s the perfect shade of tan and smooth, coating his entire body without a single tan line.How?
He steps backward, making space between himself and the water. And then he starts running before launching himself towards the center of the pool and cannonballing into the water. The loud splash echoes off the high walls, the movement of the water causing the reflection to shimmer wildly.
I yelp. The water splashes me, and the bottom hem of my dress is now soaked. He then reappears from under the water, shaking his hair out, making little ripples from the droplets that land around him.
“Are you going to join me?”
I shake my head, smiling shyly and lowering my head.
“What?!” he exclaims, arguing my refusal. “Come on! You aren’t going to let me swim all by myself, are you?”
He splashes water in my direction, the water hitting my face in small specks. He smiles so brightly that I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to join him, to let all of my inhibitions go and live in the moment, just like Claire told me to.
I decide I don’t need to wonder.
I stand and struggle to unzip my dress, the soft material catching on the zipper. When I finally loosen it, I tug the zipper down slowly, my hands trembling and my heart beating frantically in the walls of my chest. As I pull my arms out of the capped sleeves of my dress, I see Rhylan watch me. His movements have calmed, his arms and legs coursing through the water to help keep him afloat. His expression is serious and intensely pensive, and it makes me feel vulnerable. Our eyes stay connected, and I watch him swallow when I finally lower my dress and let it pool at my feet.
I’m left in nothing but my unmatched bra and underwear. I feel so exposed, all bare and naked. I cross my arms in front of me to cover myself, but it’s no use. All it does is cover my midsection. Before I lose the courage to get in the water, I dip my toes in.
I gasp. “It’s freezing!” When I was just dipping my feet, it didn’t feel so cold. Now, the anticipation of my whole body being submerged seems to have brought it down twenty degrees.
Rhylan swims towards me, his long arms gliding along the water and his hair flicking with wetness. “It’s not too bad once you’re inside.”
He moves so he’s leaned against the ledge and raises his hand up to help me in. I place my hand in his, slowly dipping more of my body in the water. He moves both of his hands to my waist, and then I fully immerse myself. I draw in a sharp breath, the sudden iciness of the water hitting my core. I’m against the ledge now, my back hitting the small tiles that line the edges. His hands are on both sides of me, holding on while the rest of his body bobs up and down. He’s inches away from my face, the water dripping from his hair and nose.
My heart starts humming, no longer measured beats but a buzzing that I can’t seem to control. His proximity is unnerving, and I can feel the heat radiating from him. He’s right. It’s not that bad now that I’m inside. But I don’t think it has much to do with my body adjusting to the cold and more to do with Rhylan being so close to me.
But I still shiver. Nerves take over every loose thought in my mind. The trembling starts from my knees, sneaking up towards my chest, making my breathing erratic. He sees me shaking and snakes his arm behind me to bring us closer, our faces touching in light sweeps.
“I guess it is a little cold,” he says. His voice is low and hoarse. He closes his mouth and swallows, his Adam’s apple moving up and down his throat. I bring my arm up and drape it on his shoulder, my hand wrapping around his neck and naturally bringing us closer.
His eyes grow dark, pupils filling the blue, and it’s almost frightening. And then, before I’m able to say another word or make another sound, his lips crash into mine.
Now, when a momentous event occurs in your life, you do everything you can to savor it. You try to remember the bits and pieces so that you can relive them later. But it never works out that way. When the adrenaline starts to course through your body, you forget those details. They become a distant memory, and you can’t really remember if it actually happened or if you dreamed it.
That’s how this moment feels. I try to delve into each movement that Rhylan makes. The way his hands move up my back and dig into my neck. How his tongue forces its way into my mouth, gliding across and coating it. How my legs find themselves wrapped around his waist just so I have something to hold on to. How the moans that escape me only urge him on, making his kisses become hungry and urgent.
Breathless, he pulls away and leans his forehead against mine. Our breathing is in sync, deep and ragged. My hand moves to his jaw, and I feel it tick under my touch. This kiss was different from our first. This was full of passion, not sorrow. It didn’t come from a place of unrelenting ache. It came from a fervor that we had been trying to suppress in an attempt to avoid the buzzing electricity between us. To lie to ourselves and tell us that this wasn’t different when we stood out to each other more than anyone we’ve ever encountered in our disenchanted past.
“What are you doing to me?” he asks, a whisper that barely leaves his lips. He looks so pained, his brows drawn together and his hold on me tightening, gripping me. As if it aches him to wonder why I’m here, ripping apart his life when it didn’t need to be ripped apart.
Instead of answering, I move my hand over his heart, the heavy pulse palpable under my fingertips. “Your heart…” I whisper.
He covers my hand with his.
“It’s beating so fast,” I finally finish.
“I know,” he whispers back. And I don’t miss the way his voice stutters or the tremble in his hand. Or the rampant beating of my own heart, matching his.
TWENTY-THREE
RHYLAN
The heat from my shower is deliciously inviting. Even though it’s still spring and LA is notorious for its warm weather, the cold from the pool hit deep in my bones. I let the water run down my back where the chill feels the worst and lean my hands against the marble tiles in the stall. Save for the trickling of water hitting the hard shower floor, it’s quiet. My breathing feels echoed, the rasping of my breaths filling my ears as air moves in and out of my lungs.
