Page 40 of Kiss and Tell

“What are you doing?” I squeaked.

“I wore my swim trunks under my jeans,” he explained.

“You really did plan this whole thing, didn’t you?”

He didn’t reply, just tugged down on the belt loops. I whirled around, heat flowing to my cheeks as much as it flowed down to settle between my legs.

“At least go to the bathroom to change,” I told him.

I caught his reflection in the window as he pulled down his jeans and kicked them off. His thighs were as muscled as his chest.

How was I going to survive seeing this guy’s body gleaming wet from the pool?

He did head to the bathroom then and grabbed a towel from the rack before striding toward the door.

“Are you really going to walk through the hotel in your trunks?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said easily.

“You’re impossible.”

“Meet you there.” Connor sauntered out, the hotel room door slowly closing behind him. I stared at his broad back as it disappeared from sight.

This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Things had finally gotten back to normal with us. That night at the club had been weeks ago. The tension from that night had finally eased and we were back to our usual friendly bantering selves.

And now Connor was inviting me to come swimming with him.

This was such a bad idea.

I went to my suitcase and changed anyway, tugged on a fluffy robe I found in the closet and followed him out the door.

Thirteen

Connor had been rightwhen he said the hotel’s rooftop pool was great. The water was bright and clear, and the entire area was surrounded by potted plants and bushes along with dozens of lounge chairs and a whirlpool tub off to the side. It was like something I'd expect to see at a resort, nothing like the hotel pools I’d used before. No damp concrete under my feet, no overwhelming smell of chlorine and other chemicals.

Connor was already in the pool treading water in the deep end, body submerged up to his neck, so his perfect chest wasn’t on display, to my everlasting disappointment.

“The water’s nice,” Connor called out.

I headed over to the edge, but hesitated before taking off my robe and hanging it over a lounge chair. I hadn’t been thinking when I’d packed my swimsuit, just tossing the first one I saw into my bag. I wasn’t wearing a tiny bikini, but my halter-top two piece with boy shorts-style bottoms still showed off more skin than I’d shown Connor before.

But he’d probably seen dozens, if not hundreds, of naked women in his life. Seeing one more was nothing.

Unwanted jealousy tugged at me. I forcefully shoved it down.

Or maybe the whole reason Connor suggested this overnight trip was because he wanted to get me into a bikini so he could ogle me. I found that thought infuriating, but also, despite myself, somewhat flattering.

I dithered long enough for Connor to swim over to me.

“Are you a chicken?” he teased, looking up at me from the pool. “Afraid of the cold water?”

Making a face at him, I hung up my robe, decision made.

Connor’s gaze made a slow sweep up and down my body. His eyes turned dark, mouth going slack.

I knew exactly what kind of thoughts were going through his head. They were the same thoughts that had been going through mine. As much as I knew his interest could only lead to trouble, I couldn't help but feel some kind of sadistic satisfaction that Connor was as tortured over our attraction as I was.