A splashing sound?
I stick my head out and look down, scanning the lawn until—
My breath catches when I see him.
Kane.
Huge and godlike, bathed in the low light around the old hot tub.
He just can’t sit still. He must’ve fixed the pump and gotten the whole thing working.
His arms are up, resting along the back of the tub.
His eyes are half-closed as he slouches like a tiger, obscenely content.
I’ve never seen him like this.
And really, I shouldn’t even be watching.
If Hattie saw me now, she’d call me a creep.
And she’d be right.
Normal people don’t stare like this, ogling dangerously sexy, older men.
Especially older men they’ve kissed.
Older men theysworethey would never kiss again.
I know it’s time.
I should just shut the curtains and get back to my designs. Or texting Hattie. Or hell, maybe a cold shower before I face-plant into bed.
But I don’t move.
That would be too sensible, and I know he’s all alone out there under the stars. Maybe the kids fell asleep early.
I know from experience the warm water feels divine against the cool night.
My brain spins like a hamster training for a marathon on its little wheel.
…there’s no harm in seeing if he wants some company, right?
Yes, I’m aware I’m only deceiving myself—it’s not him needing company, it’sme—but I get changed anyway, tying my hair up in a loose knot and finding the bathing suit I always pack on trips out of habit.
My bare feet are quiet as I slip through the house.
The kids must’ve passed out. I think I can hear Dan snoring on the couch, the TV still flickering as a movie plays.
Kane doesn’t glance up as I slide the side door open and step outside. This close, he’s so handsome it hurts.
It flipping sears my eyes to look at a man cut straight from the sky.
When he’s shirtless, you can tell he used to play hockey. His muscles scream power, loudly and proudly with every ripple.
All sinew.
All solid man.
