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“You can go,” I murmur.
I see the disappointment in her eyes, the way her lips part like she wants to protest. She doesn’t, though. Rosie isn’t the type of girl to ever push back or question me, and that’s a big part of the reason she became one of my regular hookups. Whenever I’m feeling out of control, she submits completely and lets me take some of that control back.
Except now it seems that my traitorous dick is no longer on board with that option.
“Thanks, Rosie,” I offer half-heartedly as she exits my office, feeling a little guilty for dismissing her so abruptly though not enough to actually do anything about it. I’m even more tightly wound now than I was before I called her in here, and I need to find some other way to try to relax.
I could call Tayla or Mara over, but I don’t trust my dick not to reject them, too, and I’ve had enough humiliation for one night. Plus, I’m still freezing Tayla out for running her mouth about our arrangement like it’s something more than it is.
There has to be another way. I’ve already gone for a run and worked out in the packhouse gym. Maybe a drink would take the edge off?
With that in mind, I push up from my desk chair and exit my office, bound for the dining room where we’ve got a fully stocked bar. The lights in the packhouse halls are all equipped with motion sensors, but it’s already late enough that they don’t switch on automatically as I make my way through the corridors, enjoying the peaceful solitude of the quiet and the dark. It doesn’t take me long to reach the dining room. I head straight for the bar in the corner once I get there and pour myself a generous glass of bourbon, resting an elbow on the bar top and glancing toward the floor-to-ceiling windows as I tip it back.
The swimming pool outside is lit up, the reflection of the rippling water dancing across the hardwood floor in the dining room. I haven’t gone for a swim in ages. I used to love a late-night swim on summer nights like this, when the air outside has cooled down just enough that the water is warm in comparison. Come to think of it, a swim may be just the thing I’ve been looking for to relax me.
Taking my glass of bourbon with me, I make my way outside and over to the vacant pool deck. The packhouse is typically a ghost town on Friday nights and this one is no exception. There’s a party happening in the woods nearby tonight, which is probably where most of the guys that live here have gone. I wonder if they invited Juliet to join them.
Setting my drink down on the arm of a lounger, I kick my shoes off and remove my socks and slacks. No point in hassling with swim trunks when nobody else is out here anyways. Once I’ve got my shirt unbuttoned, I shrug it off my shoulders, dropping it onto the pavement with the rest of my clothes. Then I pick up my glass of bourbon and finish it in a single gulp, abandoning the empty tumbler as I walk over to the edge of the pool. Clad only in my black boxer briefs, I dive right into the deep end.
As expected, the water’s warmer than the air. That’s what happens when the sun beats down on the pool all day. As soon as I surface, I point my body toward the other end and start to swim laps, enjoying the warm caress of the water against my skin, the weightless feeling of being submerged.
I don’t count my laps or keep track of time. I just lose myself in the repetition of the movement, in the fluidity of every stroke. Every time I swim I wonder why I don’t do it more often. There’s something about the water that’s so peaceful, like hitting a reset button. I flip over and start doing a backstroke, staring up at the stars overhead as I swim.
I keep an internal gauge of how close I am to each end of the pool as I swim laps, zoning out. My breath comes out in a steady rhythm. The stars above blur together. And then, right as I approach the edge and am about to push off the wall to turn around, I see a face peering down at me, a pair of ice-blue eyes meeting mine.
“Hi.”
I’m so startled that my body jerks, my head going under. I swallow pool water as I force myself back to the surface, reaching blindly for the concrete edge. My hand lands on a foot instead, which completely throws me off. I take in more water, sputtering like a fool when I finally right myself and am able to grab onto the edge of the pool, slapping down a hand and blinking water out of my eyes. When they clear, I see Juliet sitting on the pool’s edge right beside me, legs dangling in the water, an amused smile on her lips.
“What are you doing out here?” I choke out.
Juliet kicks her feet in the water as she leans back on her palms, tilting her head as she peers back at me. “Just got back from a party.”
I frown as I prop my elbow on the edge of the pool. “So why are you out here?”
“I wasn’t feeling well, so I wanted fresh air. A swim sounded nice.” She shrugs innocently, her gaze traversing my bare shoulders and arms. “Guess we had the same idea.” Juliet looks away, staring at her feet instead as she lifts them out of the pool, watching droplets of water roll off.
I watch, too, captivated by her presence and suddenly realizing how starved for it I’ve been.
“I heard you lifted that stupid no touching order.”
I grunt in affirmation, jerking my gaze away from Juliet’s long, suntanned legs.
“I’m not going to thank you, because it was wrong of you to impose it in the first place.”
Fair enough.
I look up at her, and for several long moments, neither of us speak. We just stare at one another, neither of us willing to admit to our faults or flaws. Both of us endlessly stubborn, yet resigned to set aside our ongoing battle of wills, if only for tonight. The look we share is probably the closest thing to an apology either of us can muster right now. A temporary truce.
Juliet’s the first to break eye contact, hanging her head with a sigh. “We’re not that different, you know,” she murmurs before lifting her gaze to mine again. She narrows her eyes, searching my face. “Do you ever get sick of it?”
I arch a brow. “Of what?”
“Playing a role, being exactly who people expect you to be. Does anyone even know the real you?”
Her question hits like a punch to the gut, too close to home and immediately putting me on the defensive. I scowl as I watch her pull her feet out of the water, wriggling backwards on the pavement and rising to stand at the water’s edge.
“Everyone in my life wants me to be this perfect angel,” Juliet sighs, grasping onto the bottom of her tank top and tugging it off over her head in one fluid motion.
