There was a splash and water rained down on us. Troy had returned from his conversation and was gathering up his stuff when Preston had playfully flung water at him. Colin and I were merely bystanders caught in the crossfire.
Preston stood in the shallow end and grinned up at his friend beside the pool, who was stepping into his flipflops.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Preston demanded, but it sounded like he totally knew the answer. The only response Troy gave him was a rueful smile, and then he was off, carrying his bag and towel toward the side gate in the fence.
“Boy,” Colin said, “he’s sure in a hurry to clean Ms. Graham’s pool.”
And to make sure I didn’t miss his innuendo, he stared at me with an all-knowing look, as if he were letting me in on a big secret. I laughed softly and shook my head. It was always hilarious to me when guys gossiped. Most of them couldn’t keep a secret for shit.
Which of course, made my thoughts drift back to Clay and Travis.
This time when Preston splashed us, it was intentional, and I gasped as I was doused with cold water. It slapped me in the face and soaked my hair. “What the fuck?”
He was oblivious to me; his focus was on Colin. “Hello?” he cried to his friend. “Why am I in here all by myself?”
Fucking Preston. I was drenched, and he didn’t care. Hell, he didn’t even notice. I swung my legs off the chair and stood, wiping my fingers under my eyes, and probably smudged my makeup.
“I’m getting a new drink,” I announced to no one in particular, snatching up my half-empty, warm beer.
Greg’s house had a walkout basement, and just inside the door was a small bathroom. With the air conditioning going and my drenched cover-up, it was freezing in the house, and I marched through the kitchenette and straight into the bathroom. I flipped the light on and peered at myself in the mirror, surveying the damage.
Thankfully, it was okay. My mascara wasn’t running, and none of my eyeliner had relocated beneath my eyes.
My gaze dropped down to the soaked cover-up. Should I wring it out? Or maybe it made more sense to just change back into my regular clothes and steer clear of the pool. In hindsight, it’d been stupid to put on my bikini in the first place. I knew I was never getting in the pool.
I couldn’t, because there’d be questions.
I sighed and pulled the cover-up over my head, then grabbed a towel from the stack on the sink. As I wiped at my damp skin, I peered at my reflection and the faint yellowing purple bruise by my hip. It’d been six days since Clay’s rough hand had pinned me to the table, and I wore the memory of it still.
It turned me on just looking at it.
“Who left the light on in the bathroom?” a male voice grumbled to himself.
I was slow to react. I’d just finished turning to face the doorway when Greg stepped in and pulled up short at the sight of me.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
His innocent gaze swept over me and came to an abrupt stop on my bruise. I shifted the wet fabric in my hands, holding it over my waist to hide the mark, and tried to act natural.
“I got splashed,” I said like an idiot.
My clipped voice and quick move to cover up only made it worse, and Greg’s handsome face turned serious as he nodded toward my hip. “What happened there?”
“Nothing.” I dry-swallowed, buying myself time to come up with a plausible lie. “I caught the edge of an exam table at work.”
He kept his tone even, non-accusatory. “And the backs of your legs?”
What?
I turned, realizing dimly he could see all of my back side through the mirror. The worst of the marks were hidden under my bikini bottom, but red-purple lines peeked out beneath and crisscrossed the top of the backs of my thighs.
Clay had instructed Travis to use the flogger last night, and the sweet sting of it had been heaven. I loved the beautiful patterns it’d left on me, but I hadn’t realized they would show until I’d slipped into my swimsuit earlier this afternoon.
“Uh . . .” I racked my brain for an explanation.
Greg glanced out into the kitchenette, and when he didn’t see anyone, he stepped all the way inside the bathroom and pulled the door closed behind him. He spoke in the low, soothing voice of a doctor. “Lilith, is everything okay?”
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, trying not to be embarrassed. “It’s fine.”
“Is someone hurting you?”
I exhaled and shook my head. “No, no. It’s not like that.”
“Cassidy said you’re dating someone new. Did he do this?”