He shifts uncomfortably, tilting his head back to focus intently on the beams overhead. “It’s probably best if I do.”
My heart rate beats quicker in my ears. “I really don’t mind.”
His conflicted thoughts play out over his face. He looks at the hot tub, the patio, back to the beams, down at the towel in his hand. Everywhere but at me.
“I don’t bite.” I laugh, trying to break the tension as he rubs a hand over his neck.
Goose bumps prickle over my skin when he takes a tentative step in my direction and asks, “Are you sure?”
My snort of laughter echoes through the quiet night. “I mean, I’d bite someone if they asked me to.”
He shakes his head as he continues to avoid my gaze, so I drop the flirting and put him out of his misery. My throat feels like sandpaper as I sober and tell him, “Join me. It’s not a big deal.”
But as he grips his shirt to pull it off, my stomach flips with the realization that I was wrong. It is, in fact, a very big deal.
As he reveals every rippling inch of his abdomen, chest, and shoulders, I can practicallyfeelthe glittering delight in my eyes. His muscles flex and roll as he lifts his shirt over his head, the dark lines of his intricate tattoos visible but unrecognizable with such little light.
Andgod,I wish I could see them. Trace them. Lick them.
This hot tub has only been here since last year, so this is the first time I’ve been around Gavin like this. I’ve never had the thrill of seeing any of the tattoos on his chest or back. The details of the snake on his forearm are vividly etched in my mind, and I could draw the vines around his wrist from memory.
But I want that kind of familiarity with the tattoos over the rest of his body too.
It’s probably for the best that I can’t see those, though. Even being this close to a shirtless Gavin is pooling heat between my thighs, the throbbing arousal from earlier skyrocketing right back up in his presence.
I force myself to shut my eyes while he gets into the hot tub. He sits beside me, the water rising enough that I tuck my legs under me to lift myself up.
He lets out a low groan that makes my heart stutter, but then he goes silent, sitting perfectly still. The only movement in the water is from the jets around us.
After a moment of tense silence, I peep through one slitted eyelid. Mostly because I can’t help it.
He’s making this hot tub feel claustrophobic, his shoulders spanning more than twice as much of the side as mine. With his head tilted back, lips parted, and lashes fanned over his cheeks, he appears utterly relaxed.
Meanwhile, I’m the exact opposite.
Gavin Moore is sitting beside me in nothing but swim shorts, and my entire body isbuzzing.
If I scoot a little closer …no, I can’t think about that.
When I turn my head to get a better view of his face in the moonlight, all the oxygen rushes from my lungs.
Dark tendrils of hair brush his forehead. Droplets of water stream down the planes of his neck. A five o’clock shadow dusts his jaw.
My thighs clench at the thought of that stubble scraping between them.
Thatwould never happen. But I’m not above admitting that I’ve fantasized about it a few times.
More than a few times.
It’s fine, right? It’s totally normal to have a ten-year crush on a man you can’t have. This happens to people all the time.
As he swallows, I’m fascinated by the way his Adam's apple rolls in the long, thick column of his throat.
Fuck. All he’s doing is breathing and swallowing, and I can’t look away from him.
“I can feel you staring,” he murmurs, peeking in my direction.
I choke on a breath as I turn to face forward again. “It’s because you’re too goddamn big. You barely fit in here,” I lie, scooting an inch further from him to reinforce the fake point.
