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Blushing, I tilt my head up. My gaze travels up his knees, his muscular thighs, the teal-blue swim trunks hanging precariously low on his tapered waist.
My breasts swell as I venture higher to the V-cut shape right above the waistband of his trunks. A light layer of dark hair covers it.
When I look higher, I see his eight-pack, his ripped chest, and…
Oh, gosh. What a handsome, dark face he has.
His sharp jaw is sharp, as if shaped by a diamond. His lips are framed by an organized, black stubble. His nose seems to have been broken in the past, but even that makes sense on his face.
We continue eyeing each other, and my shame dissolves as I stare harder.
Small, almost indiscernible lines crease at the corners of his eyes. They reveal his age in a seductive, flattering kind of way. He has to be anywhere between thirty-eight and forty-five.
However old he is, he carries his age extremely well.
I’m undeniably drawn to the full, straight black hair on the top of his head. There’s an itch in my fingertips, wanting to run my fingernails through it.
Though not as much as I’m captivated by his eyes. Black and bottomless as the Pacific Ocean at night.
Eyes that glare at me. At myeyes. My breasts and lips don’t seem to interest him.
Honed and smoldering as he directs his gaze atme.
It’s me he’s looking at.
My pulse does this weird thing of jackhammering and stopping in intervals.
I’m startled by it. By the man. From what I’m experiencing.
Just everything.
I’ve never wanted to touch a man so badly. Never wanted anyone to touch me.
“You…?” There’s no wickedness in his question, no taunting.
He demands an answer.
“I’m okay,” are the two words I’m capable of stringing together.
My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek to stop my tongue from darting out to lick my lips. From mumbling and embarrassing myself in front of him. This stranger I shouldn’t care about.
“Good. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He squats so we’re at eye level, his hands hanging loosely on his knees.
The woodsy scent of his cologne overrides the strong smell of chlorine. His black eyes are impossibly darker this up close. Examining me like I felt while swimming.
My heart skips a beat or three. My nipples strain against the thick nylon fabric of my bathing suit.
“It’s not a very neighborly thing to do.” His lips slowly curve to the side in a cold, calculated smirk. “Is it?”
A shark. The man resembles a predatory shark. And I, the stupid little fish, don’t seem to care about it one bit.
I don’t even know his name. Don’t recognize him as one of my neighbors.
The smart thing to do would be to ask when he moved in. To unveil his lie.
The only thing I’m capable of saying in a breathless voice is, “No harm done.”
He arches an eyebrow, his fingers clenching on his knees. The movement has my eyes darting to his hands on their own accord. To the veins running across his tanned skin, and the straining muscles on his forearms.
