Jaden throws him a glance.
It doesn’t take long before he sees me peering through the window. His eyebrows pinch into a frown when he locks my eyes.
He yanks his earphones off and pulls the laptop shut before plopping it on the table and swaggering to the house just as the pool boy enters the living room.
“All done?” I murmur to him, rather distracted by Jaden, who makes a beeline for the same door.
“Yes,” he says.
“I’ll see you next week,” I add, my gaze snagged by Jaden again.
Smoothly, the man vanishes through the main door as my eyes shift back to Jaden.
Tanned, ripped, and clad in a pair of swim trunks, he heads my way, his eyes sparkling with mischief. I lean back in my seat and hide my face, smiling behind my cup of coffee.
My eyes dip to his groin, his whole damn package shifting as he moves. The man sure has a way of making me hot like no one else. Biting the inside of his cheek, he pushes back a grin that flickers through his eyes.
He enters the house and graces me with a glance before striding across the living room and making a stop in the kitchen.
My lips purse into a smile as my gaze runs over him, and I start to muse.
It’s more than good looks or a body made for sin that has me shackled to him.
It’s the power flowing through his blood and coursing through his gaze. Bleeding into his touch and showing in his stance.
It’s the way he runs his fingers through his hair and lifts his eyebrows. It’s his smile, a wink, or the tipping of his chin, that makes me kneel in front of him.
To prove my point, he flicks his eyes at me and throws me a fiery smile that sends a wave of heat through my senses.
Briefly, I lower my eyes.
He’s wild. And smart. And doesn’t dwell or falter. He rarely––almost never––thinks about something twice and only does what he wants.
There’s no room for compromise with him.
I raise my eyes again just as he stops in front of the refrigerator.
“I think your pool boy has a crush on you,” he says, swinging the fridge door open.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, pretending I have no idea what he’s alluding to.
Furtively, my gaze roams over him as his muscles shift beneath his skin, loaded with tension.
“He’s been cleaning the damn pool for like... what? I don’t know. Forever? It’s the fourth time this week. It must be a really dirty pool, or he does a terrible job.”
A smirk flashes across his lips.
He grabs a beer, yanks off the bottle cap with his ring, and takes a gulp.
“The pool is not dirty,” I murmur. “And he does a great job.”
He tips his head back as he takes another swig, barely stifling a laugh.
“Do I look like an amateur?”
I almost want to answer his rhetorical question, but I quickly get distracted, and my eyes start taking a detour over his body, painstakingly studying every tattoo, scar, and bumpy muscle.
He spreads his legs slightly, the ropes of his thighs pushing against his skin. His bulge thrusts forward, and his abs ripple with the motion, a stance that always makes me hot.