3
Savannah
The next morning, I walk out onto the pool deck and my jaw immediately drops open. Sexy swimmer guy isn’t in the water like he normally is by now. Instead, he’s standing at the edge of the pool with his back to me, stretching. Which means all of those rippling muscles are on clear display. And I’m not the only one who notices; the girl who is on shift as our lifeguard today is casting glances his way, too. Good God. The way his body moves out of the water is even better than the way he moves in the water.
I give myself a mental pep talk before I walk over to the pool edge. On purpose, I don’t go in the lane right next to him, even though that’s my preferred lane. I need some space from his magnetism, so I go to one farther down. He glances over at me, and his heated look sends a rush of moisture between my legs. It’s hard, but I force myself not to look his way as I stretch my swim cap over my braid and put my ear plugs in.
Suddenly there’s a warm hand tapping my shoulder. I jump, narrowly catching myself from falling in the pool. I pull one ear plug out and turn to see the man himself standing there. He’s close. So close that I can see the shades of blue in his eyes. They’re dark in the middle, then lighten to a sky blue near the outer rim. There’s the perfect amount of stubble dusting his jaw, and I want to rub my face all over it.
No. Bad Savannah. Bad. Don’t touch the sexy stranger.
“Need a kickboard, love? It’s Wednesday, which means it’s leg day, isn’t it?” He winks.Again.And sure enough, in his outstretched hand is a kickboard. But the wink is nothing compared to his voice.
Oh. My. God. His. Voice.
He has a British accent that flicks on a switch inside of me, sending a rush of pure lust straight through my core. It’s smooth, low, with the perfect amount of class and charm oozing from his every word. In short, his voice could cause an orgasm if he said the right words, I’m sure.
There’s part of me that’s a little freaked out that he apparently knows my workout schedule well enough to remember that Wednesday is the day I focus on kick drills. But another part of me, the part that hasn’t had sex in eight months, has roared to life and is still screaming at me to touch him back. The very thought of doing that freaks me out enough to know I need to put space between us, and fast.
“Thanks,” I blurt out awkwardly, then turn and hop into the water before he can say anything else in that delicious voice of his. Once I’m fully submerged, I push off the wall and scream, hoping the water muffles the sound. I swim like something is chasing me, pushing myself hard and fast through four laps before I finally stop. Pretty sure I’m fueled by my mortification at how awkward I was. But that’s sort of how I roll, awkward and ridiculous. Especially around men I’m attracted to. I hang onto the edge of the pool, grab my water bottle and chance a look over in his direction. He’s on his back, gliding through the water at a leisurely pace for him, his arms pulling through the water in a perfect backstroke.
At the end of my workout, my legs feel like Jell-o. I pushed myself way harder today than I normally do, and I’m choosing not to think that I was trying to impress a certain someone.
I manage to get out of the pool without looking too foolish, and hurry over to the hot tub, waving at the lifeguard as I go.
A few moments later, he finishes and climbs out of the pool. As he passes the guard chair, I see the girl on duty lean down and say something to him. He can’t see me from his position, but I see the eye roll he flashes as he saunters past, and the hurt on her face.Jackass.I don’t even know what he said, but it obviously wasn’t nice.
He comes over to stand beside the hot tub, and thank God he’s wrapped a towel around his waist, or my eyes would be almost level with his junk. As it is, the towel barely conceals what he’s packing, and oh my…
“Hello again,” he says, and there’s no mistaking the innuendo infusing those simple words.
I sink lower in the hot tub, and briefly debate leaving. But I don’t want my stupid nerves to deprive me of another post-swim soak. Time to dig deep, be bold, and claim my space.
“What did you say to the lifeguard?” I ask brazenly.
He huffs out a derisive chuckle. “Ah, nothing.” He shrugs his shoulders. “She wanted to talk about London, and I didn’t.”
“London?”
“The Olympics, love. I medalled twice.” There’s a prideful tone to his words, but I suppose he’s earned it if he’s telling the truth.
“You need to stop calling me love,” comes my automatic retort.
He quirks a brow. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you don’t even know me,”
His smile grows wider. “We should change that.”
This is too much. I don’t know how to deal with a guy this hot, and besides, he’s starting to seem a little too sure of himself for my liking. Arrogance isn’t sexy. Not to me. Although he’s undoubtedly the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, his attitude is dimming his appeal. Besides, I know it’s just a matter of time before I say or do something ridiculous. The fact that I’ve managed to carry on a seemingly innocuous and mildly flirtatious conversation with him for this long is astounding. No need to push my luck; I don’t need to add to my embarrassment from earlier.
I walk up the stairs of the hot tub that are conveniently beside me, and on the opposite side from him, and hurry away without responding. He gets the final word in, however.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,love.”
I think it’s time I take a break from the pool. Maybe I’ll take up yoga instead.
That night, Bianca comes over for our not-even-monthly girls night. Her life is busy with Dex and their kids, and my life is busy with…work. Wow, I’m lame. But when we can, we get together to drink expensive wine that Bianca always brings, out of my cheap coffee cups, and eat Cheetos. Tonight I’ve dominated the conversation as I vent to Bianca about the guy from the pool.
