“Not one for idiots,” I retort.
She smiles and digs through a bag until she retrieves a black two-piece swimsuit. The bottoms are taller, like they’d go past her hips, and the top is a thick band that ties in the back. Hmmm. Interesting. “No slutty string bikini?”
She shakes her head. “Not really my style.” She holds her hands out, but before I accept it, I pull off my shirt and let the fabric fall to the floor before unbuckling my jeans.
She sucks in a breath. “What are you doing?”
I can’t help my grin at her freaked-out tone. When I look up and see her eyes locked on my abs, heat simmers in my chest and my dick twitches. Her gaze rolls over me with blatant interest and my smile widens. I shove my jeans down, leaving my black boxer briefs on and then step out of the jeans, discarding my socks and shoes along with them.
“Like what you see?” I ask, holding my hands out wide with a cocky smirk on my face. I know I look good. Her expression confirms in.
A delicate hand reaches out as if to touch my tattoos and I wait, eager to feel her hands on me though I can’t explain why.What is it about this girl that draws me to her?
Hands pressed together in prayer are inked on my right side, a strand of rosary beads between their fingers. My right arm sports a half sleeve filled with an intricate Aztec falcon totem. And on my left collarbone, climbing up my neck and down over the top of my bicep and pectoral, is an Aztec devil mask.
My gaze heats as I watch her eyes drink me in but instead of trailing her fingers over the designs, she hovers over the left side of my rib cage. She has her bottom lip trapped between her teeth and a hint of concern flickers across her face.Concern for me?I’m surprised when I spot the emotion.
I look down and realize her eyes are glued to a purplish yellow bruise that’s formed across my left side.
I remember the hit I took in the fourth quarter. I’d been running for a touchdown and the guy had come out of nowhere, tackling me in the end zone even though I’d already dropped the ball. Ref threw a flag but it didn’t matter. The game was over by then.
Her fingers brush over the damaged skin and she whispers, “Does it hurt?”
I bite back the groan I want to release at her featherlight touch. “Nah. It looks worse than it is.”
She steps back and her eyes widen, as though realizing that she’d just been intimately close. A pretty blush spreads across her cheeks. I step closer to her before she can retreat further, and I wrap my hand around her delicate wrist. “You gonna give me the suit?” I ask.
She’s maybe five-two to my six-one. A tiny little thing so she’s forced to tilt her head back to meet my gaze. All it would take is me dipping my head a few inches to catch her lips with my own, but I don’t. Her eyes glaze over as she stares back at me. She licks her lips and I trail the movement.
“Ww...What?”
I quirk a brow. “The suit,” I say again, tugging on the material that’s clutched in her hands.
“Oh. Oh!” She drops the fabric like it's hot to the touch and steps back, her face even redder than it had been before. Taking the swimsuit, I stretch the top over my chest, the fabric barely able to tie in the back over my broad chest. Then I hold up the bottoms and meet her gaze. “I’m not sure these will fit over my legs, but if you want me to try, I will. Or…” I trail off and wait.
She swallows hard, licking her lips again. “Or what?”
I toss her swim bottoms back to her. “Or I can go like this. My boxer briefs don’t cover much more than those would.” I point to the swim bottoms. “More leg but less abs.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “It’s your call.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.”
ELEVEN
Allie
Idon’t know why I care that Roman is wearing my swimsuit top. It’s just a stupid top. But he’s wearing it and it’s mine. My stomach flip-flops and I toy with the teal bracelet on my wrist. Following him out of Aaron’s room, I try to slow my racing heart. The crowd presses in on us, forcing us to take a few steps back until Roman shoves one of the football players out of his way with a two-handed shove. He’s wearing his jersey as are a bunch of other guys, making them easy to spot.
The guy whirls on Roman with a fist raised as if to swing, but suddenly halts before dropping his hand back to his side. “Hey, Rome. My man, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, man. I didn’t realize it was you.”
Roman doesn’t say anything. He just stares, his eyes narrowed into slits and the guy backs up, hands lifted in surrender. “Yeah. Sorry. Let me get out of your way.” He gives Roman a nervous chuckle as he moves.
I expect Roman to shove past him leaving me behind but instead, he turns back, grabs my wrist, and hauls me after him. I squeak and stumble, my body brushing up against a few of the players, but as soon as I come into contact with them, they step back. What is it about him and grabbing me by the wrist? “I’m perfectly capable of walking,” I say, but he either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore me.
We exit the house and find Emilio wearing a neon pink bikini top over his bare chest and string bikini bottoms over his dark blue boxer briefs. I have no idea how he manages to make it look good. But he does.
Emilio has tattoos as well and his chest piece is on full display. A gothic portrait of a woman with her hair flying back and a mix of sparrows and ravens flying around her with strands of her hair lifted in their beaks.
It’s surprisingly beautiful. When he catches me staring he rubs his chest and bites his bottom lip. His eyes become hooded and he lifts his brows in a suggestive manner. Roman steps in front of me with a growl and Emilio explodes into a fit of laughter.
