Moot point, Waters. Thisdoes notmatter. You’ve got to ignore this effect he’s having on you.
I grumble and try to shake away those dastardly inner thoughts. The effect Brooks has on me is clearly that I am fucking attracted to him, when I know I shouldn’t be. Shouldn’t be, but have been essentially powerless to fight it, when it comes to him, it seems.
“Listen, I grew up on the ocean. I used to live in water colder than this. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still wind a guy when he falls in trying to save an ungrateful raccoon. I appreciate your level of concern, though. The underwear, they look good on you.”
He rolls his eyes like he’s sick of my shit, and probably thinks I’m joking about the lace, but then he bites back a playful smile. Those damn dimples are back. “If you’re serious, thank you.”
“I’m serious,” I admit, feeling slightly more emboldened.
Why did you go and tell him that, Waters? You’re such a dumbass! Quit flirting with the man!
“You don’t want to hop in?” I ask him, trying like hell to ignore the voice in my head.
“What? Heck no!” he scoffs. “I haven’t got time for swimming, I’ve got to get back.”
“We’ll see about that…” Swiping my arms across the water, I send a spray of it in his direction. Hell, I haven’t been swimming in ages. Haven’t lightened up like this in ages. Haven’t ever tried to be playful with anyone in—fuck, I don’t know how long.
Miranda always threw that in my face too, that I’d lost my ‘zest for life,’ as she put it.
Suddenly, here I am.Zesting.
He gasps, his stomach curving inward as he tries to dodge the splashing I’m aiming at him. Suddenly, the rock underneath his bare feet wobbles, and his arms shoot up in the air as he flails to correct his balance. It’s no use though, because just like my epic performance from before, he overcorrects and splashes back into the water. I scoop him up in my arms and bring him to the surface as he chokes and sputters.
“Now who’s making a scene,” I tease. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to fall in.”
He bats at my chest. “Screw you,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re such a jerk.”
“Try harder, still been called worse.”
Everything seems to go still in that moment, as I hold him chest-to-chest—his bare skin against my stubbled torso. The sound of the rushing water seems to fade into the abyss as we both tread water, him back in my arms for the second time today. His heat against mine.
Through a few dripping locks of hair, his emerald green eyes lock on mine before dropping to my lips briefly and then back up again. Neither of us can touch bottom, our legs keep tangling with each other’s as we kick to stay up. In the cold water, more heat seeps into the space that barely separates my crotch and his.
“I find that hard to believe, Evan,” he whispers.
“Why?”
“Because, you seem like such a good man underneath that surly exterior,” he murmurs back, still searching my eyes for any hint of a lie, just like he did earlier as we watched the sun sink at the boat launch.
“If you only knew,” I warn him.
“I think I’d like to,” he purrs.
He leans in slightly, pouty lips parting, head tilting, and I almost think he’s inviting me to kiss him. His breathing, which I can feel onmy own lips, comes in shallow pants. His tongue darts out, moistening his plump bottom lip, and I have the urge to take that bottom lip and give it a playful little nip.
Moonlight suddenly causes the ring on my finger to glint, and I wince at the sight.
Fuck, you need to let this go, Waters. You are a married man, regardless of whether or not Miranda is still alive. You took vows with her. Your family—your son—would never look at you the same again. You’re turning your back on your family. It’s betrayal.
My hesitation—my inner demon chastising me—must read like an open book. I missed an opportunity, because I couldn’t get out of my own fucking head. I’m pissed at myself.
“I—uhm…” Brooks clears his throat, his face etched with concern. “We should probably get back. Make sure the camp is picked up, and the calamity is contained.”
I nod. “Yeah,” I whisper.
His mouth parts, like he wants to say something else, but the words never come out. On that, he pulls himself out of my arms, swimming for shore. I hand him my t-shirt so he can towel off with that.
It’s then that he apparently notices the tattoo above my heart. It’s a few lines of thin script; lyrics to a song I have always loved.
