He’s outside now, laughing loudly at something Cash said, his abs on full display as he leans back in a patio chair. I watch him tip a beer bottle to his lips, and my stomach does this embarrassing little flutter. His hair is damp from the pool, and his skin glows in the sun, tan and slick.
From here, I swear he knows I’m watching because he glances at the window and smiles knowingly.
“Yo, Poppy!” Cash is staring at me through the screen. “Come have a drink!” He lifts his beer. “We’re gonna play pool volleyball soon.”
“I’ll be out in a minute. I, uh—have to put my suit on.”
“Atta girl! This is not a party for bores.” He laughs, tipping his head back and chugging the rest of his beer like he’s the life of a frat party and not a grown-ass man.
I close myself in the bedroom.
Piles of swimsuits are shoved in a drawer but the thought of pulling one on right now—skimpy and sexy—after what Turner did to me… after the way he said my name when he was insideme…after the way he took me apart and put me back together again—makes my skin prickle with heat.
With excitement.
He loves my boobs.
He’d said as much last night, more than once, his mouth hot and wet against them as he murmured,“Perfect fucking tits, Poppy. Perfect,” punctuating the words with a flick of his tongue that had me arching off the mattress and clawing at his back.
I shiver at the memory, breasts getting heavy.
With a shaky breath I pull open my top drawer, rifling through the mess of swimsuits until I find the yellow one. It’s tiny—two little triangles and a few strings—and once he sees it he’s going to want to yank it off.
With his teeth.
Ha!
The sound of laughter and splashing accompany me as I get naked. Someone screams.
I put my suit on.
Pull my hair into a high ponytail.
Add gold hoop earrings and a gold necklace, cause—why not? My skin is already glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, my cheeks flushed from the memories of Turner’s mouth on me.
Last night, Turner had his hands all over me—squeezing, stroking, pinning me down while he told me exactly how crazy I made him. How he couldn’t stop thinking about me. How he wanted to do this again and again until I couldn’t stand up straight…
And now I have to walk out there and act normal.
Dear lord.
I’m a horrible actress.
“Relax.”You’re in control. “You got this.”
I swing the patio door open and step outside, the afternoon sun instantly warming my skin. It feels amazing, a slight breezebrushing over my chest as I glance around, which is a chaotic mess of bodies.
How was Cash able to assemble this many damn people on such short notice? He only announced he wanted to have people over two hours ago and now there are guys splashing in the pool with Nugget, some tossing a football, some shooting the shit with him while he grills—and girls I have yet to meet, laying around. Flirting.
I scan the yard.
There he is.
On the other side of the pool, sitting on a lounge chair with one leg stretched out and a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, Turner’s eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. They hide everything,but I know he’s watching me.
The air is thick with citronella candles and the scent of Cash’s overcooked burgers, the sun dipping low in the sky already, casting everything in a hazy, golden glow.
And Turner? Looks like a sun-soaked god who doesn’t have a care in the world.
