Plunge (Alpha Athletes 1)

I watched as his throat moved from each swallow. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his neck. I licked my lips. I wanted to trace over his skin with my tongue. Holy shit—where were these wicked thoughts coming from?

“Aren’t you going to drink yours?” he asked.

I nodded more vigorously than I meant to. I picked up the frosted glass and tasted the sweet lime concoction. It was delicious and refreshing in this heat.

“Thank you.”

“What about that interview?” He smiled, showing me the brilliance of his white teeth.

“Right. The interview.”

I tried to focus on the page. Whatever was in that drink was strong. I was suddenly conscious of the way Blaine stared at my lips. Every once in a while I noticed how his eyes dipped to my breasts. It was as if he was trying to stare through the fabric and catch a glimpse of my skin.

I had to get it together—at least enough to ask him a few sensible questions and get out of this bar. Alone.

“Okay, so why don’t you tell me when you first discovered the pool was closed.”

I decided not to look into his eyes. I kept my gaze directly on the reporter’s pad in front of me.

He cleared his throat. “Well, sweetheart, it was this morning.”

My neck tingled. I reached for another sip of the lime drink.

“And?” I prodded.

I risked looking up at him. His eyes were locked on my lips and they felt heavy under his stare, as if he were going to reach across the table and brush the drops of lime and sugar from my skin.

He didn’t seem to notice how much he unnerved me, or he didn’t care. He continued, “And there was a sign on the door that said ‘pool closed.’”

“That’s it? No explanation?”

He shook his head. “There was nothing on it except the sign. My coach found someone in the building and he was told that there was a problem with the water pressure valves.”

“Really? Who told him?” I asked.

“How the fuck do I know? I wasn’t there.”

I stared at him. “Do you want me to write the story or not?”

“Sorry. I don’t know.” He looked agitated again, like he did when I first saw him at the juice bar.

“Did you see anyone working on the valves? Maybe someone from maintenance?”

“The place was empty. No one was working on it.”

“And when will you get to swim?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

I scribbled down everything Blaine told me. I took another sip of the famous Brazilian drink. My head spun once and I put it down.

“Did anyone give you any other options to practice? Is there somewhere in the village, maybe?”

“No. They never offered anything.” He leaned forward, his weight shifting the table toward me. “I might be the first swimmer to arrive in Rio, but it shouldn’t matter. The pool is supposed to be open. I should be swimming right now.”

“Have you filed an official complaint yet?”

He shook his head. “I promised Jim, my coach, that I would give them a day to get it fixed, but I don’t know that I have that kind of patience.”