I look away and sigh. “I noticed, Cali.”
I don’t make an excuse or add a lie to make her feel better.
I give only the truth, and she accepts it.
“I think she’s stressed over her mom or something. Our girls’ day, sans alcohol, will help.” She nods as if she’s sure when she’s not.
“Cali!” Jules shouts from the island in the kitchen, a half-chewed bite of sushi in her mouth. “Dax says Marcus from sophomore year was at the game! He’s following them back to his house. Want to go there first, get reacquainted?” She laughs.
Cali chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully as she climbs out.
“Of course, I do!” she shouts back, turning to me. She sighs but then smiles. “You’re off the hook tonight.”
“Who says I want to be?”
She laughs, grabs her towel and looks at me over her shoulder. “Uh-huh. See you tomorrow, girlie.”
They’re out the door and not five minutes later, my gate rattles.
I don’t have to open my eyes to know who’s stepping through—I never bothered to put the lock back on.
Footsteps grow near, and then the water sloshes as one of them steps inside.
Apprehension curls beneath my ribs and I half hope I’m imagining the person before me.
I’m not.
I’m lifted from my little corner, my eyes opening to find Ransom before me. His arms around my waist as he guides my legs around his, lowering us to our shoulders in the heated water.
I stare, unease pulling at my muscles, and he reaches behind me, coming back with an iced latte.
He holds it out, waiting for me to wrap my fingers around the clear cup.
The moment I do, his mouth curls to one side.
I don’t allow myself to react, but ask, “What?”
He pulls my body closer and I have to lift the coffee higher, so I don’t spill or smash it between us.
“Coffee is in your hand.” He leans back until his neck meets the concrete while he remains sitting on the seat’s edge. “Rule is you can’t be pissed now, right?”
It takes a moment to understand what he means.
I give a slow nod. “I did say such a dumb thing.”
His blue eyes move between mine, his expression grows somber fast, and a knot forms in my throat, threatening to close it if I don’t find space to breathe. I try to pull free of his grasp, but he holds me tightly and my stomach caves.
“Stop,” he demands, his voice is low, strained yet strong.
“Stop what?”
He glares. “Fighting me.”
I scoff, angling my upper half as far back as he allows, which isn’t far.
That’s rich coming from him.
“You lied today.” He gauges me. “Tell me you did.”
“This is ridiculous.” I try to get free again, and his hold on me tightens.
He rubs my skin, massaging my muscles beneath the water. Waiting.
I glare, setting my drink down. “I didn’t lie.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t—”
“I said stop,” he snaps.
My stomach begins to turn, and I look away, but his hand lifts, gripping on to my chin and bringing it back so I’m looking at him.
My eyes meet his and my tongue presses against the roof of my mouth, my teeth clamping together to the point of pain. My breathing picks up and something outside of myself takes over. Rather than shoving off his chest, as I should do, my hands decide to glide along it, and while his pecs flex beneath my touch, he doesn’t push me away as I wish he would.
He’s like a mannequin, flawlessly shaped and cut, intended to draw maximum attraction, to create envy and desire with every sharp, refined angle. He’s soft and warm, has abs without flexing and his biceps fill the sleeves of his shirts to a T.
But his face...
My hands pause at the center of his chest, my fingers spanning out and pressing into his smooth skin.
His face is not one to grace the cover of a magazine; he’s too harshly handsome. Sharp, darkened angles and tortured eyes.
He’s more the unexpected stranger who lives in the deepest parts of your mind, only to appear in your dreams. The guy who vanishes when your fantasy-killing alarm clock rips you awake and you try to fall asleep again for a few extra minutes, just in case he comes back. But he doesn’t.
Because as dreams go, the guy within them is a figment of your imagination.
He’s raw but not real.
In reach, but untouchable.
Not even if you’re touching him now?
My eyes, reluctantly, pull from his chest, meeting his magnetic blues.
Something aches low in my abdomen, high in my chest, deep in my conscience.
“You’re human. You do want.” His palms wrap around my outer thighs. “And you do need.” He squeezes and whispers, “I’ve felt your need... just like you feel mine now.”
He lifts his hips, pressing them against me beneath the water and I swallow, staring. He’s hard beneath me.