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“Like a chauffeur. Like…a bodyguard.”
“Uh-oh.” He sounds so worried about it that a laugh bursts out of me, echoing across the surface of the water and bouncing off the pool house. Hercules slides his hand around to my mouth and covers it with his huge palm. “Baby,” he whispers, and every nerve in my body echoes it back at him. It doesn’t make any sense that my nerves should light up at the sound of his voice when the rest of me can’t bear brightness, but it happens anyway. “Don’t wake up the whole fucking house.”
“Would you be mad if I did?”
“Why would I be mad?” He presses his hand closer so I can’t say more. “They’d see us sitting by the pool.”
I pull his wrist away and kiss his open palm. “What if they didn’t see us sitting by the pool?”
“The hell else would they see us doing?”
“I don’t know.” I kiss the tip of his index finger, then close my lips around the first knuckle. “Something…else?”
He shivers. Everything about him is stronger than a normal person, even his shivers. “I didn’t think you were the type.”
“The type to what?”
“To want to get caught fucking by your own family. There are places you can go for this.”
“I amnotthe type. I can’t believe you’d say that.” I suck his finger into my mouth to the second knuckle, and his arm tenses.
“Baby.” He turns his head so his breath brushes the shell of my ear, followed by his lips. He’smeanlike this. Mean, because by now I want a lot more than a soft kiss, and so does he. And—look. We could get caught making love by the pool. It probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But the things running through my mind—his fist in my hair, his teeth digging into the bruise on my shoulder, my cheek pressed into the patio tiles—would probably not go over well. “Don’t lie.”
“Fine.” I turn into his neck and dart my tongue out to lick the soft skin there. “Maybe I am the type. I guess I wouldn’t know.”
“Whatdoyou know?”
I know that if I turn likethis,if I reach likethis,I can feel how hard he is under his shorts.
Hard.
I take him in my hand through the cloth and Hercules tips his head back like he is in awe of the constellations.
“We’re in full view of three houses,” he points out. “Anyone could be watching.”
“Would you like that?” He can’t help turning his face toward mine, and his teeth sink into my lower lip. A sharp bite. A sharper kiss. “If some stranger was watching?”
He takes in a breath that’s definitely meant to sound offended. “I’m not the type.”
“You’re a liar. I bet you liked winning all those medals. I bet you liked when everybody looked at you.”
His other hand is in my hair now, his fist clenching in steady increments. He’s the one who taught me that it’s possible to pull someone’s hair in slow motion. It probably looks romantic from a distance. And itisromantic, because it’s what I want, because it hurts, because the thing I can’t stand about being here is being away from himwaytoo much. I can’t think when he’s kissing me like this. I don’t want to think. We could sit here by the pool forever with his mouth on mine. Would that be so bad?
No.
“You’re wrong.”
I’m too busy planning a strategy to climb on top of him to keep track of the conversation. “About what?”
If I throw myself directly on top of him, we’ll probably both fall into the pool. It’s harder to sneak back inside if we’re both soaking wet. Then again, we’d have to take off all our clothes, so maybe it’s a wash.
“I never cared about winning any medals. I never cared about those assholes looking at me.”
“You didn’t?”
“The only person—” He nips my earlobe. “—I’ve ever wanted to look at me—” His mouth moves over mine, all heat and softness, no teeth this time. “—is you.”
That’s when it happens.
