“You know, I have a doorbell,” I mutter slightly indignantly.
“Which I rang about forty times.”
I freeze.
No. No. No no no no no.
My core tightens, and something between embarrassment and dread sinks over me. The pool guy steps forward, and suddenly, he’s out of the glare, and it’s so much worse than having just been caught touching myself by the pool guy. Because suddenly, I’m looking right up into the smug, smirking, completely gorgeous face of Mason fucking Dunn.
Mason who’s twenty-one and lives next door.
Mason who looks like a fucking Abercrombie model now.
Mason who I watched jerk off until he spilled his cum all over his hand and his sex-god abs.
Mason who just totally walked in on me with my hand in my bikini bottoms.
Fuck.