Unthinkable (Unstoppable 2)

When Leon raised his brows in challenge, his mouth curling up at one side, I dropped my head back and shrugged. Do your worst, Bradshaw.

His languid gaze lowered slowly, and then he proceeded to run it over every curve of my body.

I was not prepared for my reaction; for the rush of warmth that flooded my cheeks and pooled low in my stomach. Certain parts of my anatomy went rogue—parts I couldn’t hide very well under a flimsy bikini top. Heat flared in Leon’s eyes when he noticed, and his carved shoulders rose higher with his indrawn breath. The smirk melted from his face as he trained his eyes on my chest and swallowed roughly. And then his gaze came back to mine, burning with a simmering intensity that caused a fissure of heat to unfurl in my pelvis.

I squeezed my thighs together, my tongue sweeping over suddenly dry lips. A knowing lilt tilted Leon’s mouth as he watched me squirm, and I ground my teeth together because, damn, I could do without him getting me off without laying a finger on me. The guy’s ego was already inflated to capacity; I had no desire to add to it.

All the sunshine and bare skin were messing with my head.

I saw the guy’s physical appeal. Honestly, it was hard to miss. He was poster boy perfect, and I got why cheerleaders lined up outside the locker room for a quick five minutes against the shower stall door. But that was their thing, not mine. I’d considered myself immune.

Stabby was my default setting when it came to Leon Bradshaw. The guy had rubbed me up the wrong way so many times I had permanent chafe marks, and the packaging wasn’t nearly enough to make up for it. On a normal day.

But it had been a while since I’d seen Leon sans shirt, and the sight of his ripped, bronzed body was tipping the scales a little, and doing strange things to my libido. Being stationed far enough away from him that my palms weren’t itching to slap his too pretty face made it a lot easier to appreciate the view.

Guys like Leon couldn’t be trusted—a fact I’d never allow myself to forget—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fun to look at. And looking never hurt anyone… but when his hand disappeared beneath the water, my heart rate spiked, and I pulled in a hard breath.

He’d never hear it from my lips, but Leon’s dick was far from average, and disturbingly, it had been on my mind way more than I’d like to admit ever since I’d wrapped my hand around it.

A high-pitched squeal rang out a split second before a bikini-clad body crashed into the pool and a wall of spray flew up between us. I blinked and looked away, grateful for the distraction. Reaching for the almost empty soda bottle perched beside Sara’s tote, I tipped my head back and downed a mouthful of lukewarm liquid. A cold drink would have been nice—it felt like the temperature had climbed a dozen degrees in the past minute or two. I aimed a glower up at the ball of heat in the sky, despite knowing it had nothing to do with the sun.

“Damn, it’s hot,” I grumbled as I tossed the empty bottle aside and swiped the back of my hand across my forehead, keeping my gaze trained on this side of the yard. That was enough fun for one day.

“I love the heat,” Sara murmured, lowering her lids. Her dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks and a serene smile played over her lips as she angled her face up toward the sun.

“You’re from Florida. This is your norm.”

Sara stretched an arm out behind her and snagged a bottle of water from her bag, then held it out to me with a conciliatory smile. I took it from her with a muttered thanks, and lowered my legs into the cool water, pulling my sunglasses down over my eyes. Commotion from the other end of the pool drew my attention back to enemy territory. Two more cheerleaders splashed into the water in a tangle of limbs and outraged cries, and I watched behind dark lenses as Leon waded to the side to avoid being drenched.

He leaned out over the edge of the pool, giving me an unobstructed view of his s

culpted back before he straightened and shook his hair out. It was such a fucking cliché move, I almost scoffed, but then he heaved himself out the water, and every visible muscle rippled and contracted, sending beads of water streaming over the defined ridges and valleys of his hard body. My curbed scoff almost strangled me, and I spun the lid on the bottle in my hand like it was a roulette wheel then started chugging back water like it was free champagne. And then, because anything else would be completely futile at this point, I conceded.

Okay, fine… take a minute to appreciate the bod while his back is turned. Just don’t make a habit of it, and for christ’s sake, don’t let him catch you.

“Hey, you okay?” Sara asked.

Without looking at her, since I was busy eyeballing my kind-of enemy, I murmured, “Peachy, Sar.”

If you could consider lusting after Leon Bradshaw peachy, that is. I didn’t. But I’d give myself a pass on this occasion on account of the soaring temperature and the fact that, sometime between sophomore year swim class and now, Leon Bradshaw had filled the fuck out.

He might be the biggest thorn in my side, but right now he was making me tingle. Everywhere. I cut myself off when Leon meandered through the crowd and disappeared inside.

That’s enough, junkie.

A wistful look crossed over Sara’s face when I gave her a sidelong glance and found her eyes fixed on that same spot over my shoulder she’d looked at earlier. When color tinted her cheeks and her eyelids swooped down, I twisted round to sate my curiosity, and my lips formed an amused O.

Jason Connolly… you dirty dog.

Hands planted on his hips, bare chest gleaming, Jase’s stare lingered on his stepsister long enough to make it obvious he had more than familial affection on his mind. Face grim, he drew in a heavy breath and shoved a rough hand through his hair before stalking off. I watched Sara track Jase’s departure with eyes full of longing and cleared my throat loudly.

“Anything you’d like to share with the group there, Sar-Bear?”

Her head snapped to me, chocolate brown eyes wide in her small face. “What?”

Oh, Sara. Sara, Sara, Sara. You had to ask. I tugged my glasses down my nose and flashed a grin. “You’re hot for your brother.”

“Stepbrother,” she corrected quickly.