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“I thought it was cute.” He bops the tip of my nose with his index finger. “Take a shower and let’s go to brunch.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine thirty.”
I’m gaping at him again. “It’s that early? Really? Why didn’t you let me sleep in?”
“I got bored.” He shrugs before he heads out of my bedroom. “Hurry up. I’m starving.”
I turn and watch him go, stumped when he shuts the door behind him. Like, what just happened? Why was he being so sweet and taking care of me? The man is a contradiction, though I’m sure he could feel the same way about me. I send him mixed messages on a daily basis.
Looks like he does the same to me.
I take a shower and wash my hair. Slip on a white string bikini and pull a delicate flower-print dress on over it. I pull my damp hair into a bun on top of my head and slip on the hoops I wore last night, then apply a little bit of mascara on my lashes and slick a rosy-pink lip balm on my lips.
There. I’m done.
I slip on a pair of leather slide sandals and walk out into the living room to find it empty. As is the kitchen.
As is the rest of the house.
It’s only when I return to the living room do I hear a splash from outside and realize Perry is in the pool.
Heading outside, I stop at the edge of the pool and watch him swim across the length of it. He pops his head out of the water and slicks his hair back with his hands, his gaze finding mine.
“I got bored again,” he says in answer to my unspoken question.
I can only shake my head.
“And I ordered room service instead. It should be here any second.”
“I got dressed up for nothing.” I wave a hand at my outfit.
“I think you look nice.” His smile is vaguely naughty.
That look in his eyes dark.
“Gee thanks.” I kick off my slides. Reach for the hem of my dress before I whip it off and over my head, letting it fall onto the lounger I’m standing next to. I stand there for just a moment, letting Perry get a good, long look at me in this bikini that’s made of scraps before I’m diving into the water and swimming toward him.
Until my head is out of the water and I’m treading in front of him, breathing a little heavily as droplets coast down my face, dripping from my chin.
“Nice swimsuit.”
He can’t even see it at the moment. “It’s not a swimsuit.”
“What is it, then?”
“A bikini,” I correct him.
“Not made of much.”
I glance down to see my nipples poking against the thin white fabric. Maybe he can see more than I realized.
I return my gaze to his. “I know.”
He reaches out and drifts his thumb against the very nipple I was just looking at. “Water too cold?”
“It’s perfect.”
