I walked with Riley back to our bedrooms, glancing at the ceiling. Ollie’s room was on the second floor, directly above mine.
Sexy Agent Lovell is right on top of me…
Pfft. What a delusional fuckhead.
“See you in a bit,” my little brother said, vanishing into his room.
I slipped into mine, grabbing my workout clothes from the wardrobe.
I stared at the balcony for a moment. Should I sit out there and chill for a bit? Practice some yoga out there, draw down more of the sunshine, like I was doing right now, topping myself up with energy?
No. I’d rather work out my frustrations on a punch bag or treadmill. Sweat away the bullshit.
Quickly changing, I headed downstairs.
Ten minutes of jump rope,running for twenty, boxing for another twenty, and none of it was enough to clear my head. So, I went to the swimming poolbelow the gym—newly cleaned and reopened this past week after years of not being used.
Fancy having an indoor pool and never using it?
I’d dreamed of owning a house with a pool. One day, I wanted to move to Thailand and get myself a nice house with a pool, having fallen in love with it when I did photoshoots in Pattaya City and Bangkok a few years ago.
Fingers crossed I could make it happen.
I owned a penthouse apartment in London I barely saw. The nature of my job took me around the world, which I loved. But sometimes I missed my sofa and my view of the city.
That wasn’t a complaint, just a slice of pining.
What would Ollie think of me having a London penthouse? And why did I care? What business was it of anyone’s other than the taxman? I’d worked hard for everything I got. Between me and my brother David, who became a renowned architect, we clawed our way to success, giving ourselves and our parents comfortable lives.
We didn’t grow up like this. Mum and Dad worked hard, taking on so many jobs over the years, instilling the value of hard work into us from the get-go. So there.
Having slipped into a pair of black swimming trunks, I stood at the edge of the swimming pool, the glass walls glowing with golden light, the white tiles gleaming like marble in the sun.
I slid a finger around the band of my trunks, preparing myself for a swim.
By Hecate, I always got so defensive about my success. I guess I hated apologizing for my successes.
I dove into the water and swam a couple lengths, only for the session to come to a grinding halt when a figure appeared at the edge of the pool when I surfaced at the shallow end of the pool.
“Oh…” I said, pushing my hair back, standing with the water lapping at my waist.
Ollie stood there like a frozen sentinel, those hazel eyes the only part of him moving. They wandered down my body until he blinked and cleared his throat.
“Morning,” he grunted.
Whoa, those blue trunks of his left little to the imagination. Hugging him perfectly with the promise of delights to choke on and lick beyond the pesky material blocking the heavenly goodies beyond. I tried not to stare but fuck me hard. He was a fine specimen of a man, carved from muscle and wet dreams and I just wanted him to take me right here in the pool. Bend me over the edge and screw me to nirvana. Or vice versa if he wanted. I was versatile, up for most bedroom activities.
A flexible, adventurous gay guy, that was me. Tell me where to put it or how to bend and I’d make you one happy soldier.
Easy now,I warned myself, my cock firming.
I sank back into the water, swimming back into the deep end.
After several beats of awkward silence, and his vacant expression chilling the water, he said, “Thanks for healing me.”
His baritone got my boy bits wetter than this pool. “You’re welcome. How are you feeling?”
He folded his hands tightly over his crotch. “I’m fine. You?”
