“Definitely the pool water,” I managed, trying to ignore the itchy feeling that was crawling down my arms. “The jury’s still out on you.”
He chuckled as something flashed in his eyes—surprise, amusement, challenge—before his gaze dropped to my chest, and my pulse kicked into overdrive.
We had hit the water hard, so I was praying my breasts hadn’t made a break for it beneath my see-through, mid-rise shirt.
I followed his line of sight, blew out a relieved breath that my girls were still covered, and then winced, wanting to crawl out of my skin.
“You really are allergic to chlorine.”
I started scratching my arm. “I need Benadryl.”
He examined the area on my forearm where I was making the rash come to life. “Oh, shit. Come with me.”
Before I could protest or flag Bailey down to grab my purse, he took my hand, and an electric current shot through me like a bolt of lightning.
What the hell? I’d never been affected like this by a guy before.
“Somethin’ ’Bout A Woman” was playing, and I silently laughed because it should’ve been Somethin’ ’Bout Lucas Allen because he was suddenly doing a number on me—butterflies, sweaty palms, and heart palpitations.
He tugged me past Erik and Ryker, his best friend and QB1, who tossed him a towel with that classic bro smirk of approval.
I tried to pull away, but Lucas’s grip was ironclad.
Once we were inside the house, he turned to me and draped the towel around my shoulders. “Sit,” he said, and that voice of his had my stomach doing flips again.
Why I was obeying had me silently questioning my sanity. I wasn’t one to take orders unless I was on the clock. It had to be the drawl. That damn southern drawl that turned my spine to goo.
He squatted down, inspecting my arm and every inch of my exposed skin.
I wanted to say I could take care of myself, but I was digging the attention. No one had ever looked after me when I got hurt.
“Do you do this for all your women?”
His grin was sexy and sleek as he studied the rash.
While I waited for his response, my gaze wandered up the line of his jaw, across his chest, and to those arms that could probably deadlift a truck, and I noticed the cool tattoo on his bicep. I was about to ask him what the significance was about his trinity tattoo with a heart tangled inside, but a moan escaped me. A freaking moan.
He caught the sound and responded with a smirk that curled the corner of his lips.
Silence tethered us together, thick and intimate.
This wasn’t just chemistry. This was temptation with a name and a jawline.
And I didn’t have time for temptation.
I was in trouble. The kind I’d promised myself I would avoid.
2
Lucas
I heard a small moan escape her, and I lost all train of thought. What I wouldn’t give to hear that sound while she was naked under me.
Regardless, I felt as though an angel had fallen at my feet or on top of me. Earlier, when I’d been on the phone with my mom, I’d seen her looking in my direction, but with the sun in my eyes, I could barely make out her beauty.
She was gorgeous—shiny black hair, long legs that would tempt a saint, and eyes the color of the ocean off Bora Bora, greenish-blue or bluish-green.
She touched my bicep, which was as tight as a violin string. “Lucas, where did you go?”
