Page 16 of Flock
His statement is loaded with insinuation, and I know Christy would have a field day if she was with this guy. I can hardly believe he’s standing in Roman’s pool.
I move to engage in his play and turn swiftly instead, pulling myself from the water before adjusting my bikini to make sure I’m covered. I picked the less revealing of the two I own, but I might as well be naked with the feel of his eyes on me.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m thirsty. You?”
His eyes dip to the water dripping from my neck. “Sure.”
“Water? Tea? Grape juice?”
“Surprise me.”
“Surprise,” I say, stripping the water from my hair with a towel before wrapping it around me and widen my eyes. “It’ll be grape juice.”
“Living it up today, huh?” His smile is blinding. I fight the urge to ask him to take off his shades. Walking toward the house, I can feel the tension coiling, and I know the goosebumps on my skin have little to do with the air hitting my wet body. Once inside, I carefully trek over the sea of polished marble and peek outside to see Sean hoist himself up on the side of the pool, lighting a cigarette, waiting for me. Fighting the urge to text Christy, I bury my face in my hands and feel a smile building beneath. Though I’ve only had two partners, I’m not an innocent girl. In fact, when I became sexually active, I surprised myself with my thirst, my sexuality, with my fascination for the act itself, and the unexpected cravings after, but this attraction is on another level.
Opening the fridge, I grab two bottles of grape juice and glance outside again. When I was seventeen, I had a horrible crush on Brad Portman. The feelings that stirred in me when the attraction was returned were some I knew could never be topped. Later, when he kissed me for the first time and fire exploded in my chest and belly before trickling to my core, I was sure nothing could come close to that euphoria, nor the feeling of when he closed his eyes tight with pleasure and pressed inside me, claiming my virginity.
Those feelings and memories I swore would remain the hottest moments of my life—until I walked outside, juice in hand, to see Sean lift his sunglasses.
Chapter Five
Blue Madonna” by BØRNS croons from my cell phone on the lounger as I wade through the water at the deep end. Sean stands propped against the wall on the opposite end. His powerful arms are stretched along the concrete behind him, his eyes trained on me as mine drift to the midnight ink on his arm.
“So, what’s the deal with the tattoo?”
“Deal?”
I roll my eyes. “Some of your friends have it too, a lot of them. What does it mean?”
“It’s a raven.”
“I’m aware of that,” I say, my thighs and calves starting to burn from lack of exercise. “But what does it symbolize? Is it like a ... best friend thing?” A giggle escapes me.
“You makin’ fun of me, Pup?”
“No, but you don’t think it’s a little weird you share a tattoo with that many grown men?”
“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’ sound. “Think of it as a promise.”
“A promise of what?”
He shrugs. “Whatever promise it needs to be.”
“Do you always answer questions in riddles?”
“It’s the truth.”
His eyes dip as I swim to the middle of the pool, my chest inches above the waterline, before lifting back to mine, the look in them enough to have me taking a mental picture.
“You want to tell me what you’re thinking all the way over there?” His question dries my tongue.
“I’m thinking I don’t know a lot about you.”
“Not much to tell. I told you I moved here when I was young. It’s a small town. As you can imagine, we came up with creative ways to occupy our time.”
“That’s when you met Dominic? When you were kids?”
