“Let’s go for a swim,” she says again, still as flippantly as she said it the first time.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.”
“It’s so nice out,” she continues. “And the water looks good…”
When I realize she’s talking about the water behind me—the fucking ocean—I gape at her, momentarily wondering if she’s lost her damn mind.
“You know there’s a perfectly good swimming pool right up there,” I say, thumbing back in the direction of the house. “And a jacuzzi. Hell, you could probably even take a swim in my bathtub,if youreallywanted to.” Great. Now all I can imagine is Poppy in my fucking tub. Naked.Nice, Brookes.
Smiling at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, Poppy takes a step closer so we’re almost touching, and reaching out, she smooths a hand down over the front of my shirt, stopping at my belt buckle and looking up at me through her lashes. “Yeah, but fears are meant to be conquered, Brookes.”
Fuck. Is she… coming onto me?
I find myself actually contemplating it, because the way this woman is looking up at me, ocean be damned. But then as a wave crashes behind me, my heart kicks into gear, and my skin prickles as I think of what’s out there, lurking in the darkness of the inky black Atlantic.
I look down at myself, still dressed in my Tom Ford pants and dress shirt, and I offer her a resigned shrug. “I mean, if we have to go all the way back up to the house and change into our bathing suits, we might as well just go in the pool…”
“Who said anything about bathing suits?”
“If you want—” My words are cut short, my mouth hanging open when I realize what she just said.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Flashing me the kind of grin that makes the skin at the very nape of my neck prickle, Poppy’s hands skate up to the skinny straps of her dress, pushing one then the other off her smooth shoulders, holding an arm across her breasts to stop the top from slipping all the way down. And I’m pretty sure my heart skips at least four of its mandatory beats. Damn I wish I didn’t yeet my phone into the fucking ocean; I may very well need to it to call 911.
“Poppy,” I gruff, my attempt at a warning more like a pathetic whimper.
With a knowing smirk, Poppy turns so her back is to me and I gape at her, fucking dumbstruck as she shimmies her dress all the way down before it’s pooling at her feet. I try not to stare at her ass, but the way it swallows up the tiny G-string she’s wearing,I don’t know where else to look, my mouth opening and closing like a fucking puffer fish.
Poppy turns back, her arm still covering her bare breasts, and I know I should say something, do something, fucking breathe before I pass out, but I can’t. I’m stuck. Frozen. Hell, I can’t even move to try and conceal the erection that’s starting to tent in my pants.
“Come on,” Poppy says, turning and running for the water, every one of her curves jiggling with the movement and hypnotizing me into a state of catatonic shock.
Splashing around in the whitewash, Poppy glances at me from over her shoulder, and with a mischievous smile, she allows her arm to fall, and I catch a hint of side-boob that bounces as the waves jostle her, and fuck. Me. It takes everything I have not to come in my pants right here like a goddamn teenager.
“It’ssonice, Brookes!” Poppy shouts out, her giggles floating through the air when a bigger wave knocks into her. “Come on. A dare’s a dare, remember?”
I watch as she skates her hands up the sides of her glistening wet body, following the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, and up over the generous swell of her breasts, all while those big eyes stare into mine. And I swear, I could punch myself in the face right about now. Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I groan as the voice in the back of my head chides me to stop being such a fucking pussy.Take off your clothes. Get your ass in that water.
And while I want nothing more than to do just that, there’s another voice in the back of my mind, one that reminds me that this isn’t real, it’s fake, that I’m paying her, and come October, it’ll all be over.
I’m suddenly yanked from my thoughts at the sight of Poppy exiting the water, both arms held up over her chest, concealing her breasts, but the smile that had lit up her face moments ago is gone. She avoids my eyes, her shoulders cowered and small as she collects her dress from the sand, and then she continuesstraight past me and back toward the house, leaving me here on the beach in the dark to wallow in my own self-loathing.
“Fucking idiot,” I mutter to myself while watching her disappear over the dunes.
Turn around, Brookes.
Turn around and go back upstairs.
Turn around, go upstairs, and go back to bed.
Staring at the door to Poppy’s room right in front of me, I grip the frame on either side and bow my head, closing my eyes tight to try to block out the noise of the voices in my head.
It’s late. I’m tired. And I know here, outside Poppy’s bedroom, is the last place I need to be right now. But I’ve been lying in bed for the last hour and a half, staring up at the ceiling, unable to shake the look of dejection I saw in her eyes when she left me down on the beach.
I hurt her tonight. Me. I rejected her, and I hurt her. And I don’t want to hurt her. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt. I get the feeling she’s been hurt too many times before if that asshole ex of hers is any indication.
But what am I even doing here? What do I expect to happen if I knock on that door?
I can lie to myself all I want, but I’m not here to apologize. I’m here to cup her cheeks, crash my lips to hers, push her into that bedroom and… Fuck’s sake, there goes my dick. Again.
