As soon as I hit the last stair, he’s wrangling me out towards the truck. He opens the passenger door for me, his hand resting briefly on my lower back as I climb in.
We drive for a good twenty minutes before I see a house looming in the distance.
"What are we doing at your dad's place?" I ask, eyeing the massive house with a bit of wariness. I’ve only been here twice before.
Ramsey kills the engine and turns to me with that half-smirk that never fails to makemy stomach flip.
"He's not here. Trip to Costa Rica." His eyes drag over me, lingering on where my crop top meets the waistband of my leggings. "You want to swim under the stars. I don't need to worry about security as much here, and the pool's heated."
Before I can respond, he's out of the truck and opening my door. I slide out, but instead of letting me walk, he bends down and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
"Rams!" I squeal, laughing as blood rushes to my head. "I can fucking walk!"
"Where's the fun in that?" he growls, one large hand anchored firmly on my ass as he carries me toward the house.
I'm eye-level with his back, watching the muscles shift under his t-shirt as he punches in the security code. His hand squeezes my ass playfully as the door beeps open, and I can't help but squirm against him, feeling the hard ridge of his shoulder digging into my stomach.
He carries me through the darkened house like he owns the place—which, technically, he kind of does.
"This place always gives me the creeps," I mutter, still dangling upside down. "It's like a fucking museum."
"That's because it is," Ramsey replies, his voice vibrating through his body against mine. "Nothing here is meant to be touched or enjoyed. Just looked at."
There's something in his tone—a bitterness that makes me wish I could see his face. But before I can think too deeply about it, we're through a set of glass doors and outside.
The night air hits my skin as Ramsey finallysets me down beside the massive infinity pool. It's lit from within, casting an ethereal blue glow across the stone deck. Beyond the water, the city lights twinkle below us like fallen stars.
"Holy shit," I breathe, turning in a slow circle. "This view is incredible."
"Yeah," Ramsey agrees, but when I glance over, he's not looking at the view—he's looking at me.
He reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the carved perfection of his torso.
My heart nearly stops as I take him in. I've seen his tattoos before, but never like this—the galaxy across his chest seems to move in the blue glow of the pool, stars and planets and cosmic dust swirling over his heart. The ink covers most of his upper body, trailing down his ribs and wrapping around his biceps.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his joggers, sliding them down his hips to reveal black swim trunks that hang low on his narrow hips. The V-cut of his abs disappears beneath the waistband, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out to trace that line with my fingers.
He reaches for the hem of my crop top, his knuckles brushing against my bare skin. "Arms up."
I comply without thinking, lifting my arms above my head as he slowly peels the sweater up and off. The night air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps across my exposed stomach and shoulders. I'm acutely aware of how the bikini barely contains my tits, the tiny stars catching the blue light from the pool.
Ramsey's eyes darken as they rake over me, lingering on my chest before dropping to my leggings. Without a word, he kneels in front of me—fucking kneels—and starts unlacing my sneakers.
"I can do that," I protest weakly, my voice embarrassingly breathless.
"I know you can," he murmurs, looking up at me through his lashes. "But I want to."
My throat goes dry at the sight of him on his knees before me, his large hands cradling my foot as he slips off one sneaker, then the other. His fingers trail up my calves to the waistband of my leggings, hooking into the elastic.
I place my hands on his broad shoulders for balance as I lift one foot, then the other, letting him slide the leggings down my legs. His hands linger on my thighs, his thumbs tracing small circles on my skin.
"Fuck," he whispers, his eyes traveling up my body. "You're so beautiful it fucking hurts to look at you."
The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. This is the most exposed I've been in front of him—at least while standing up and fully conscious. The memory of his face buried between my thighs flashes through my mind, making heat pool low in my belly.
He stands slowly, his body close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. His hands find mine, fingers interlacing as he starts walking backward, leading me to the edge of the pool.
We step into the pool together, the heated water rising around our ankles, our calves, our thighs. It's the perfect temperature—warm enough to be comfortable in the nightair but cool enough to be refreshing against my heated skin.
