Page 60 of Just the Pool Boy at Vampire Mansion

That sounded serious. “Sure.” I dried my hands on a towel and followed him into the pool house, while Fleur stayed outside and stared at the water.

The TV was on, playing the local news. Theo grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.

“If you want anything kept a secret around here, don’t tell Fleur,” he said, stopping at the back of the room by the fold-down bed, away from the wall of windows. The blinds were closed, but the day’s heat still radiated through them.

His clothes were baggy and loose, his hair unstyled. I’d had my fingers in his hair, my tongue down his throat, his body firmly against mine⁠—

Oh-kay. Not going there.

I’d been trying very hard not to think about that rooftop kiss, and I’d been doing okay, until now, with him right in front of me. “So . . . uh . . . about the other night. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have made you do that.”

He raised a hand. “You didn’t make me do anything.” His lips twitched, and the hint of a smile showed through. “Some buildup would have been nice, but anytime you want to get down, I am here for it.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure if I was okay with that. He’d said it so flippantly that it couldn’t mean anything. But of course it didn’t mean anything. What had I expected? That Theo Witherborne was falling for me? Ha, right. “Yeah, I guess, it was just a drunken kiss, so . . . doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” He breathed in and sighed out slowly. “But I need you to tell me what’s going on with you.”

“What . . . what do you mean, going on with me?” I laughed too loudly. “There’s nothing going on with me. I’m just here, doing the pool.”

“The guy you kissed me to hide from. Big guy, knuckle-dragger. Yes, I saw him. Who is he?”

Shoot, he’d seen my stalker. “Oh, right . . . Uh, yeah, so . . . it’s nothing really. I kinda have a stalker. But I’m dealing with it.”

“By hiding in my face?”

“No.” Another squealing laugh. “I mean . . . it was a spur of the moment thing. I am really sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

“Stop apologizing before you hurt yourself. I don’t care about the kiss.”

I swallowed and pinched my lips together. “Right.”

“That’s why you didn’t like the whole social media thing, because you’re trying to keep a low profile?”

“Yeah, but also, that was passive aggressively not okay, to throw me into a spotlight like that, but yeah, the whole hashtag labrador energy put me out there in ways I didn’t—don’t wanna be out there. And now I’m out there.”

“Because of your stalker?”

“Yeah, but also . . . I had a life, before, I told you about some of it, and I don’t want people from that life finding me here. It’s just . . . past me is not compatible with now me.” I felt my heart racing and worked to slow it back down again.

“Okay.”

“You’re alright with it?”

“Sure.” He pushed off the wall and sauntered over, stopped close, making me look up to meet his gaze. “But just so you know,” he whispered. “If your stalker guy hurts you, I will hunt him down and make him suffer in some very creative ways, and it won’t be quick, Owen. So, if he bothers you, you call me. Understood?”

He said it casually, which shouldn’t have surprised me, considering the rest of his family, but it did.

I’d been so lost in his eyes and his words that when his fingertips brushed my jaw, I flinched. I hadn’t meant to. I wanted him to touch me. Wanted to be back on that rooftop, his body against mine, hands on me. The need roared back like a tsunami.

Theo pulled his fingers back then stepped away, misreading the flinch for fear.

With distance between us, I could breathe again and keep myself from jumping his bones. “You know, uh, I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

He laughed lightly. “It wouldn’t be a fight, trust me.”

I’d been around a lot of dangerous people, before prison and during, and none had made the threat of casual violence sound so appealing. But the way Theo said it had that rooftop heat simmering in my veins again. A piece of me, the old me, desired that violence, and wanted to see Theo unleashed. I’d be right there with him. The power, the thrill, feeling like the most important person in the room, the one everyone should be afraid of. But that was the old me. The Owen who no longer existed.

“Guys!” Fleur called. “You should see this! There’s something in your pool!”