Page 27

P ractice ends, and I shower and dress in dark cargo shorts, a beige tee, and flip-flops so quickly it’s not even funny. I then bust my ass to get home.

Hey, I noticed how good-looking that fucking pool repair guy is. I don’t want him alone with Claire for too long.

Hopefully, she’ll just let him in, take him out to the pool, and then head back inside.

That’s what I’d do.

But once I’m home, I can’t find Claire anywhere inside the house.

Fuck.

Blowing out one long, deep breath, I head to the back and step outside.

That’s when I freeze.

The repair guy is standing over by the pool, and there’s Claire, right next to him. She’s signing something on a clipboard, before she hands it back to the guy.

What really gets me, though, is throughout this whole exchange, the two of them are laughing and chatting it up like they’re old friends.

But the absolute worst part is what Claire has on—practically nothing!

Her breasts are squeezed up and overflowing the too-small red bikini top, and the bottom part is little more than a thong.

I catch the pool dude checking her out, and she doesn’t even seem to care. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s encouraging it.

And enjoying the attention.

But why would she do that?

Why would she like being ogled?

They’re so busy talking that neither of them even notices me. But when Claire touches the dude’s forearm, giggling over something he just said, I make my presence known.

Marching over to where they’re standing, I bark out, “What the fuck is going on here?”

The pool repair guy looks terrified, but Claire just stares me down angrily, her hazel eyes narrowing, those flecks of gold and green sparking with rage.

Huffing, she informs me curtly, “I was signing off on the completed work and billing, Easton. That’s what’s going on.”

“And you’re doing that dressed in an outfit like this?” I wave my hand up and down her body.

The repair guy, looking nervous, jumps in. “Sir, uh, the pump is fixed. It didn’t take as long as I expected. Anyway, I think I’ll be leaving now.”

“Good idea,” I growl. With my eyes locked with Claire’s, I add a more even, “Thank you.”

Claire, smiling smugly at me and never wavering in glaring back, says in an oh-so-sweet tone, “Yes, thank you, Brant. It was nice talking with you.”

He mumbles, “Bye, Claire,” and then he takes off so quickly he’s like a blur.

Now that he’s gone, it’s just me and Claire, still engaged in a stare-down.

“Brant?” I say, raising a brow. “And he knows your name too? You two sure got chummy in a short amount of time.”

“What can I say?” She shrugs. “We hit it off really well right from the start.”

“Clearly,” I grind out, my temper flaring.

“He’s so cute too,” she goes on in a sing-song tone. “Did you notice that?”

Okay, she’s looking for a reaction now, so I rasp, “Fuck him.”

I’m angry, yes, but Claire shows me she might be madder than me when she jabs a finger in my chest and says, “By the way, for the record, don’t you ever embarrass me like that again, Easton.”

With that, she spins around and struts away, tossing the sunglasses that were perched on her head onto a nearby table.

“Ah, not so fast there, sweetheart,” I spit out as I kick off my flip-flops and follow her.

The whole while, as mad as I am, my eyes stay fixed on her glorious, perky ass. An ass that fucking dickhead got to enjoy the entire time I was gone. I wonder if the pump really is fixed after all.

We reach the house, and Claire races inside.

I grab the sliding door before she can shut it, and she blurts out, “Asshole,” as she marches away.

“Asshole?” I laugh bitterly as I follow her.

We reach the entry hall, and she steps over to the base of the staircase.

“And what’s this about me embarrassing you?” I state gruffly. “You running around flirting with that dude dressed in next to nothing is fucking embarrassing to me , honey.”

She spins around, her hand slamming down on the handrail post. “Oh, really?” she says. “Let me make this clear, Easton. What I do, including flirting with other guys, and what I wear to do it in is of no concern to you.”

“Well, maybe it should be,” I spit out.

That catches her off guard, as she has nothing to say, no smart retort, not a thing.

I take a step closer till she moves to one step above me.

We’re now face-to-face, both of us worked up and breathing hard.

Her eyes meet mine, and the anger within them in is palpable.

But there’s also lust and confusion.

That calms me down.

She bites her lip, and I blow out a breath. “Look, Claire—”

Placing one finger over my mouth, like she’s shushing me, she says, “Easton, just shut up. For once, stop.”

I do.

Slowly, she trails her finger over my lips.

What is happening here?

I’m confused as she leans in and presses her mouth to mine, kissing me softly at first, then more demandingly.

Okay, now I’m not confused.

I open my mouth, and our tongues intertwine.

And it is fucking divine.

Finally, I’m kissing Claire the way I’ve wanted to for ages.

As we relax, she presses her breasts against me.

All I want to do is rip this damn T-shirt up and over my head.

Hey, I think I will.

I break from kissing Claire just long enough to ditch the tee.

And then my lips are back on hers.

She pushes into me again, and I realize she’s untied the bikini top and let it drop to the step she’s on.

Suddenly, her bare skin and pert nipples are rubbing against my bare chest.

Fuck.

That’s it.

I reach down to grab her supple ass and give her cheeks a squeeze, something I’ve wanted to do since she stomped away from the pool.

I then step back, pick Claire up, and carry her up to my bedroom.

This is our time, at last, and nothing is going to stop what’s about to happen.

Only she can.