“I have a bikinisomewhere,” I mumble, my cheeks flushing. I rack my brain, trying to remember where I stashed it. Probably in some forgotten drawer, gathering dust. I bought it when I got here, with the idea of having a beach day.
Yeah, that so did not happen.
“Right,” Grey declares, standing and pulling me with him. His hand is warm and firm around mine, and I try to ignore the little jolt of electricity that runs through me at his touch. “Time to figure out where you have it.”
We all file out of the office, and Misha pipes up, his grin laced with mirth, “Amelia Stanley, terror of the kiddie pool.”He’s grinning from ear to ear, clearly relishing the thought of my impending embarrassment.
“Oh, shut up,” I grumble, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. Despite my protests, there’s something oddly heartwarming about their determination to teach me.
Oliver joins in, “Maybe we should get her some floaties. You know, the ones with little duckies on them?” He mimes little duck wings with his hands, and I roll my eyes.
“I hate you all,” I mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it.
At the elevator, Grey turns to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, if you don’t find that bikini, we could always go skinny dipping.”
“Grey Donovan,” I exclaim, scandalized but also secretly a little thrilled at the suggestion.
The elevator reaches the ground floor, and we spill out into the lobby, making our way to the front doors, where the city noise greets us—horns honking, people chatting, the usual urban symphony.
We cross the street and enter our building before piling into the next elevator, my nerves about actually swimming making the butterflies in my stomach come to life. I know they have me and won’t let me drown, but apparently my mind and body aren’t on the same page.
“We’ll meet you back here in a bit,” Grey says as we reach my floor.
The guys head to their place to grab swimwear while I make my way to my apartment. Once inside, I rummage through my drawers until I find the white bikini. I slip it on, and pull on a pair of shorts and T-shirt over it. Then I twist my hair into a bun atop my head before grabbing a towel and heading out.
The guys are already waiting outside my door, and I can’t help but stare. They’re shirtless, wearing only their swim trunks, and they look absolutely lickable. I force my eyes away, noticingGrey has his laptop with him, and Oliver is holding a piece of paper.
“Why would we need that to go swimming?” I ask, bemused. “Want to show me tutorial videos?”
Oliver smirks. “We thought it might come in handy.”
As the elevator arrives and the doors slide open, we step inside, and my flutter of nerves mixes with excitement. Misha wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. “Ready to get wet?” he asks teasingly.
Oh God.
The warmth creeping up my cheeks tells me I’m blushing fiercely, and Misha notices, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, Bug. I like where your thoughts were just headed.”
“Very funny,” I retort, nudging him playfully.
Grey smirks. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. If you start to flail, I promise to be right there to save you.”
“And I’ll make sure you don’t sink,” Oliver adds. “But only if you promise not to splash too much.”
“I’ll try,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “But no promises.”
Misha’s hand slips down to hold mine, his thumb brushing over my wrist in a comforting gesture. He squeezes my hand gently as the elevator dings, and he guides me toward the pool entry.
Oliver opens the door and ushers us in before stopping to stick the paper on it. I peer at it and laugh when I see ‘CLOSED’ written in bold letters.
Oliver grins. “It’s rare that somebody’s here, but just to make sure.”
Misha does a quick sweep of the area and confirms we’re alone. Then Grey sits down, balancing his laptop on his knees, and starts typing. Suddenly, I hear a click. Confused, I try the door.
It’s locked.
“You guys are nuts,” I mutter.
Grey just shrugs. “Wanting to have privacy isn’t nuts. You think I swim in the same pool as some random from work?”
