Page 89 of Brooklynaire

Right.

I shed my clothes in the next few seconds. My erection bobs against my stomach as I slip into the pool to meether.

There’s no better sight than Rebecca in the pool, the water churning around her bare breasts. She’s sitting on the bench, her head tipped back against the edge. Her eyes are closed. “I’m a fan of this setup. Do you use this tub veryoften?”

“Yes and no. I use it as a lap pool twice a week. Always alone. So this is new.” I splash her chest, because my inner fifteen-year-old can’t resist. She opens up her eyes and smiles. “But I figure—what’s the point of having this crazy house if you never skinny-dip in the hot tub with your favoritegirl?”

Her expression softens. “Thisisfun. But I’m not used to ityet.”

She doesn’t mean the water. “I know. You still have yourdoubts.”

“Not aboutyou, though,” she says, putting a wet hand on my cheek. “It’s justcomplicated.”

I nod so she’ll think I understand. And I do—mostly. Although my grasp of the complications improves when we have our clothes on, and I remember that other people actually exist. Right now I’m naked while water caresses my bare skin, and she’s mere inchesaway.

It’s surprising I can form words atall.

“Thisisreally nice on the sore muscles,” she says, rolling herneck.

“What exactly is sore? I’ll massage it. Please say it’s yourglutes.”

She giggles. “Close.Hamstrings.”

“As if I needed a reason to touch your thighs.” Under water, I put a hand on her quadriceps and squeezegently.

“Oy,” she gasps. “Okay, that’s soretoo.”

“Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s a good kind of sore. I was so happy when Dr. Armitage said that lying around in dark rooms wasn’t going to help me get better. It’s good to move around, because I feel like I’m accomplishingsomething.”

I make some inarticulate noise of agreement, but all my focus is on Rebecca’s thigh under my hand. “Swing a leg overhere.”

After only a second’s hesitation, shedoes.

I take that smooth leg into my hands and gently work over themuscles.

She groans, and my cock is now harder than the pipes that fill this pool with water. “That feels sogood.”

I’m going to make her say that again later, and she won’t be referring to her legmuscles.

20

Rebecca

Nate is givingme a world-class rubdown. We are both trying really hard not to just leap on each other. Nate is doing his best to be patient, because he thinks I’m skittish. And I am—about datinghim.

But not, it seems, about jumping him. Every one of my senses is dialed up to eleven, and every time his long fingers make another pass over my bare skin, I just want tomoan.

I glance around this incredible room we’re in. Those big windows must let in a lot of light during the daytime. Nate has what other New Yorkers only dream about—a huge space in a great location. It’sridiculous.

“Hey, nice turtle,” I say just so I won’t accidentally beg him to fuckme.

“Hmm?” he says, looking as distracted as Ifeel.

“You have an inflatable turtle, Nate. It’s smiling at me.” I point toward the toy on the other edge of thepool.

“Ah,” he says, barely giving it a glance. “Gag gift fromAlex.”