Though I know I’m just as much to blame. I could have said no.
If only I could go back and change it.
And change which bit, exactly? The baby request? The sex?
I don’t know, but the idea of forgoing what we shared – how he looked at me, what he said, how he made me feel – leaves me more bereft than his absence now.
I wrap my hand around my wrist, thumbing the faint red line as I walk. I’m just overthinking it. Everything is fine. Axel is fine.
The pool terrace opens up ahead and I breathe in the quiet, the low buzz of cicadas, the rush of waves through the rustling trees. Perhaps I should take a swim, cool off in the water, then see if?—
A shadow shifts to my left and my body reacts before my brain can catch up. Heart slamming. Throat closing.
Axel.
He’s leaning into the sun-bleached wall of the pool house, black trunks clinging to his quads, hair and body dripping from a swim. One hand braced above his head, the other holding a bottle of water as he stares at the ground, shoulders heaving like he’s run a marathon.
Then he shifts, his head tilting, his eyes finding mine and his entire body stiffens. Every muscle straining as his gaze burns me to the ground.
Fuck.
Well, don’t just stand there. Speak to him! Fix it!
I force my feet to close the distance, my voice to work, my body to chill…
‘Hey… you missed breakfast.’
Stating the obvious, much?
I scratchat a non-existent itch behind my ear and smile. Wide.
He pushes off the wall slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘I know.’
I swear, even through my shades, he sees me. Likereallysees me. Along with every X-rated thought inspired by his mostly naked state.
Damn. The man really is a god.
Hell, he was always this way. He hasn’t changed; it’s me that’s undergone some crazy switch-up. And thatishis fault.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.
‘Not hungry?’ I squeak out.Jesus, get a grip.
Something flickers in his eyes. Something dark and fierce and it sends a stream of thrilling-hot butterflies through my stomach. The twist to his lips and his silence even more so. Who needs words when you have eyes that talk like his?
He swaps the water for a towel off a lounger and rubs it over his face and hair. I try not to stare. Try and fail. Because those inked muscles, rippling up close… Yeah, I reckon even a nun would struggle not to ogle.
‘You should know…’ I swallow down the heat and force my eyes back to his. ‘Theo’s looking for you.’
‘What for?’ He throws the towel aside with a frown.
‘I think he’s worried you’ve done a runner now you’ve tossed the rings over…’
And fucked your best mate.
Oh no, that’s just me.
‘Is that what you’d like me to do?’ His eyes flash. ‘Leave?’
