Page 25 of His to Seduce
David walked out, and my body froze.
Nothing. He was wearing nothing but a towel and a smile, holding two Red Stripes. In the warm water, my body sizzled at the sight of him. Tall and lean with muscles in all the perfect places, the towel did nothing to hide his thick bulge.
My mouth went dry and I reached for my beer when he sat down next to me at the edge of the pool. He slid his feet into the water, his hip inches from my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked with more than a hint of amusement. I could barely pull my eyes off his chest, with that smattering of hair that made me want to run my fingers over it to feel the coarseness.
When I didn’t answer, he set down a beer between us. “Thought you’d like another drink. You seem sort of tense.”
He didn’t hide his laughter this time.
I couldn’t find the urge to scowl at him for laughing at me. I did need the drink. Possibly the entire case. What had I been thinking asking him to join me in the pool…naked?
“Thank you.” I managed to remember my manners. Sliding my empty bottle to the side, I reached for the fresh one and took a drink. “Are you going to join me?”
“I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to control myself.”
A dozen bold, seductive responses flashed through my mind. I couldn’t speak them. His honesty left me speechless and mindless.
God…why did he…this guy…make me feel like this? Scattered and bereft, and yet safe at the same time?
I glanced to the side only to see his bulge beneath the towel, and quickly looked back at the pool.
“What do you want to do then?” Had I swallowed a golf ball? I could barely get the words out, and they felt heavy in my throat.
He slid his hand to my hair again, gently pushing it back and behind my ear. I’d left it down. He liked my hair, and I liked him touching it. On his wrist, I caught a quick flash of the band he’d taken from me this morning, worn like a bracelet…like a medal.
“Come sit in front of me. You need to relax.”
Relax? With David behind me wearing nothing but a towel and an erection and his hands on me? I’d evaporate in the water.
I shifted and slid around him, careful to keep my body covered. The curve of my breasts showed above the pool, but that was all I allowed. Once I was seated in between his knees, he brushed my hair off one shoulder. It flowed in front of me and fanned out in the water, tickling me as it moved across my chest.
I shivered from the soft sensation and tensed when his hands curved around my shoulders.
“I’m not that tense,” I lied, as he began massaging my shoulders.
“I have a feeling you’re always tense. Why is that?”
His thumbs worked a knot at the back of my shoulder and my head dropped forward. A groan of pain and pleasure burst from my lips. “God, that feels good.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t always tense, that I wasn’t stressed out almost every day of my life, and that I didn’t constantly feel the burden of responsibility. At the bar earlier, though, I’d decided to try to open up. That wouldn’t happen without a sliver of honesty on my part.
“I didn’t have an easy childhood,” I said, feeling my voice hitch. That was far from the truth. My childhood had been easy as pie, despite being dirt poor. It wasn’t until I was almost a teenager that my easy life turned to despair. I pushed myself past the thought that could swallow me if I ever allowed myself to dwell on it and continued. “Typical story, I guess. Single mom, poor. I’ve had to work every day of my life, and the thought of failing keeps me focused.”
His hands didn’t stop moving until I was done. He paused briefly before pressing his thumbs deeper into my shoulder.
“Poor?”
I nodded, thankful I didn’t have to see his face when he asked the question. Everyone always looked the same. I’d get disbelieving looks from people who thought not getting the newest cellphone or designer jeans made them poor. Then pity.
“Single-wide trailer, no air-conditioning. Barely had enough money to pay the bills. Sometimes we didn’t even have that. A drunk, though a nice one, on one side of us. Cops always called to the trailer on the other side because the man couldn’t keep his hands and fists off his constant slew of girlfriends.”
“God…”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t take that tone, filled with pity and sadness for me.”
I pushed off the bench I’d been sitting on, away from his gentle touch. My hair…my shoulders…my skin…my hips…his hands had been everywhere on me, and for a while, he’d helped me forget everything.
“I don’t pity you,” he said when I slid to the side. “Why can’t I be sad that’s how you grew up, though? Isn’t it sad?”
