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From what I remember of Tess and Micah from high school, they weren’t remotely friendly. Beside the sketch is a newborn photo of Dash, the child they made together. He’s scrunched up on his belly and slumbering peacefully. My hidden sentimental reflexes contract. Good people deserve to be happy.
The weight of the gun in my purse is usually a comfort but at the moment it feels like a burden. I’d rather not set it down in some random spot so I keep the purse hugged to my chest and drift to the middle of the living room. “The two of them traveled a hell of a long road to get where they are. But you know that. You watched it happen.”
“Sure did.” Conner slides open a panel that exposes a wall of glass overlooking a huge backyard. With the flip of a switch, the landscape lighting sparks to life. A sizeable pool glitters beyond the patio. “The three of us knew Tessie since we were little kids. I’m aware we always gave her a lot of shit because she was the mayor’s daughter but I can’t remember the details. Some of those childhood blocks of time are kind of like Swiss cheese, full of holes. Still, I can’t deny there’s plenty of evidence me and Gage and Micah were the tyrants of West Emerald.”
No, not you.
I catch the words before they can tumble out. Explaining them would be difficult.
Conner turns from the open patio door. He crosses his arms over his chest and hitches an amused eyebrow. “Count yourself lucky we didn’t cross paths in those days.”
His meaning isn’t callous. The words shouldn’t sting the way they do. The fault is mine, for stewing over ancient history that no one remembers except for me.
I’m not sure what I’m doing here in his house. I meant what I said. Despite being plagued by random surges of desire I won’t be spending the night.
The best excuse I can come up with is that Conner has gone out of his way to make this a good day. I’d hate to set fire to it at the end. That’s why I’m standing in his living room and searching for something harmless to talk about.
When I take a step, the muscles stitch in my right calf, echoing old sports-related aches and pains. I glance down at my leg and make a face. “You know what? I think I’ll be paying for that hike tomorrow. I’ve been slacking on workouts for roughly a decade.”
Conner’s eyes travel over my body and that wicked playboy smile makes a comeback. “Lucky thing you’re here. I’m skilled at giving full body massages. Watched an entire three hour video series. Always looking for more subjects so I can practice my technique.”
“Cool story, bro. We’re not crossing that boundary.”
“Your loss.” He shrugs, his good mood intact. “Did you see my hot tub?”
I crane my neck and spot a massive covered box squatting on a slab of concrete to the right of the pool. “I do now.”
“Got it last season, recommended by the team trainer. The jets do a lot of good when it comes to sore muscles. Water will be nice and hot. Let’s go.”
While I’m still processing this sudden turn, Conner hurries outside and peels back the hot tub cover. He dips a hand in and nods with satisfaction before pressing a button. The jets bubble to life. Then, without a pause, he pulls his shirt off for the second time today. The shirt is tossed to a patio table and he’s on the verge of opening his pants before noticing that I’m stuck in the doorway.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says with his hand on the fly of his jeans.
What I’m thinking is that I’d enjoy sliding my tongue over his absurdly defined ab ridges. I hope there’s no drool sliding from the corner of my mouth.
Conner sighs, like he’s disappointed in my dirty thoughts. “This has nothing to do with sex.”
“Getting naked with you in a hot tub isn’t related to sex?”
“Naked.” He huffs out the word like it’s a puzzle in another language. “Nobody will benaked. I’m not an animal, Haven. I’ve got boxers on under this. Oh shit, you were talking about yourself. You’re not wearing underwear. Don’t be embarrassed. I swear I won’t look.”
I’m wearing a black lace thong and one of Lita’s cotton sports bras. Not exactly proper swimwear. Yet I have to battle a smile of amusement. Conner has a knack for coaxing the humor out of any situation.
And, regrettably, this flair only enhances his sex appeal.
“I’m notembarrassedfor god’s sake but-”
“Great.” With two jerks of his wrist his jeans are open, ready to drop.
My thighs clench and my nipples tingle. I’m too hard up and his body is too damn sinful, impossible to resist.
“Wait,” I blurt.
He pauses and looks up to see me gaping and clutching my purse. He smacks a hand to his head. “So stupid. You’re right. We need towels.”
My mind blanks and my jaw snaps shut. I haven’t discovered a follow up to the ‘Wait’ command. I also haven’t figured out how to move past the patio threshold. Or how to lighten the grip on my purse, which remains clasped to my chest. A black suede shield that can’t save me from the onslaught of lust.
Conner finds no fault with these issues and dashes right past me. His towel errand takes him down a long hallway. A door squeals open and shut.
