Callaway steps closer, careful but not hesitant, like he’s learned the exact distance where I won’t bolt.His gaze drags over me with open want, and he doesn’t hide it, doesn’t pretend he’s above it.Possessive without being cruel.Like he’s claiming me with his eyes and asking me to let him.
“Pool?”he says, casual on the surface, but he’s watching me like I’m weather—like he knows I can turn fast.“I know you’d rather swim in the lake, but let’s not be all daring and shit.Let’s stay inside the boundaries tonight—and probably always.”
Monty’s hand lands on the small of my back, grounding me.I swallow, tasting ginger and nerves and something that feels dangerously close to hope.We’re doing this.Living together and trying to become and us.It’s possible, right?
“Okay,” I say, because it’s easier than saying what’s really in my throat.
Which is:I’m scared.I’m in too deep.I want this so badly it terrifies me.And if either of you break me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to put myself back together again.
Instead, I force a crooked smile and go for sarcasm because sarcasm has always been my favorite life jacket.
“Lead the way, my noble knights.”I sweep my arm out dramatically.
They go with it and lead me down a hallway that smells like fresh paint and expensive wood.The doors are heavy.The lighting is soft.Everything about this place whispers,You could be happy here,and that’s what makes my pulse jump.
The thing about happiness and us is that it can’t stay.We’re too messy, complicated, and are zero for three when it comes to having experience with committed relationships, but hey, at least nobody’s headed for the hills yet.Not even me—shocking, I know.
The indoor pool room is behind a glass door with a keypad.
When Cally taps the code, I’m not surprised that it’s my birthday.
The air is warm.Humid.It smells faintly like chlorine and clean tile.The pool is long, sleek, lit from beneath as if it’s glowing.There are windows on one side—high enough that no one could see in unless they were a bird with malicious intent.
It’s ...perfect.Dreamy and I remember why I said,This is the house.
I could move into just this room and never look back.
Which makes my eyes sting, because apparently my body is in its “cry at everything” era and I hate it.
“Jesus,” I whisper, and it comes out like a prayer.
Callaway watches my face like he’s trying to decide whether he won or lost.
Monty’s gaze stays on me, steady and quiet, like he’s bracing for the moment I break.
I refuse.
I set the glass Monty handed me down on the narrow corner table beside the bench, the ice clinking against crystal like it knows I’m about to misbehave.
The air in the pool room is warm.Not hot, but warm enough to make my skin hum in anticipation.The water glistens under low lights, and I can feel both of them watching.Pretending not to.Pretending they’re gentlemen.
They’re not.
I hook my fingers under the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head in one smooth motion, dragging the fabric up my body until it brushes my ribs, then my bra—simple black, nothing fancy, but the way Monty’s jaw tightens tells me it doesn’t matter.His eyes snap to the flash of skin.Callaway shifts where he stands, hands shoved in his pockets like that might keep him from reaching.
It won’t.
I let the sweater fall to the side, leaving me in nothing but my bra and leggings.
And then, slowly, I press my thumbs beneath the waistband and start to peel them down.Inch by inch.Over hips, thighs.I turn just enough to give them the full view of my back as I bend at the waist, tugging the fabric past my knees.I know exactly what I’m doing.The cotton clings to my skin, the lace of my panties cutting across the curve of my ass like a provocation.
Let them look.
Let them burn.
I step out of the leggings and straighten, bare now but for the thin black bra and matching panties I threw on this morning without thinking.Practical.Comfortable.
Lethal, apparently.
