The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

She’d changed clothes, which made sense, but why was she wearing a fluffy white bathrobe when it was eighty-five degrees outside?

I was only a few feet away when she shed the robe, shrugging it off her shoulders and letting it fall until it was a heap on the floor.

My mind went blank as I took in the sight of all the dark red lace wrapped around her magnificent body. Had I died? Was I dreaming this? I traced every line and curve of the bodysuit like I was reading a secret message meant only for me.

She was so hot, I was going to damage my retinas just looking at her.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice wavering. “We should do that.”

NINE

Erika

It took Troy only a heartbeat to process what I’d said before he had his hands on my body. He rushed at me, clasping one arm behind my back and a hand clenched on my ass, and then his mouth crushed against mine.

His kiss numbed my mind, yet filled me with fire. My heart went into overdrive as he pushed his tongue past my lips and claimed my mouth, moving in as if he had every right. It pulled a groan of satisfaction from my chest.

The door was jerked shut and we stumbled deeper into the kitchen, me backpedaling, while he advanced. The eat-in counter jutted out from a wall and sectioned the space off from the dining area, and he guided us to it.

I didn’t get a moment to catch my breath before he picked me up and plopped me down on the counter—but I gasped anyway. The stone was icy cold against my flushed, bare skin.

His mouth was needy. It moved against mine like he was starved for connection, and now that I’d finally allowed it, he was going to feast. In an instant, I was lightheaded and falling . . . only to realize he’d pushed me down onto my back. More cold stone kissed my skin, but then he was there, climbing up on the counter so he could follow me onto the peninsula.

I’d made this decision back when we’d been seated at the table, yet I’d second-guessed myself the entire time while I changed into the red lingerie I’d bought a year ago. I hadn’t bought it for Clark, I’d reminded myself while tugging it into place. I’d bought it for myself. Plus, my ex-husband had never seen it.

While I’d only gotten a glimpse of Troy’s reaction to the sexy bodysuit, it had been everything I’d hoped for and more. His eyes hazed and lips parted to take in a wild breath before he’d lunged at me.

My head was still spinning from what he’d confessed. Five years he’d wanted me, and now he’d become a man wild with lust.

It was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt exactly the same way.

What we were doing was reckless. He was my best friend’s son, and she’d never forgive this betrayal, but I was too desperate to stop. Troy and I were already past the point of no return, so I justified what was happening between us made no difference.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

The edges of his whiskers burned against the curve of my neck when he carved a steady path of kisses toward my breasts. Our hands were everywhere. Neither of us could get enough of touching the other. I wanted to explore more, and as soon as I fisted the back of his loose shirt, he was helping me pull it off.

I sighed contentedly when he lowered in and flattened the warm, bare skin of his chest against me, but I only got to enjoy it for mere seconds. He planted a kiss in the hollow of my throat before his palms slid over my lace-covered breasts and cupped them, pushing them together. I arched and thrust upward to encourage his mouth to find my nipples trapped under the fabric.

Beneath him, I became wanton. I grabbed and clawed at his shoulders, squirming with satisfaction as he gave me my wish. God, his lips on my skin felt amazing, even through the whisper-thin mesh. There was a constant throb between my legs, pounding as a relentless beat of music that had the power to turn me into a slave.

“I fucking love your tits,” he growled.

“Oh,” I moaned. His teeth captured my nipple, delivering just enough force to bring pleasure but not pain. I’d forgotten how that could feel—the sharp tug it caused in my center—and how sexy it was to watch. His blue eyes studied mine while he toyed with my sensitive flesh, and I struggled to find air.

Part of me wondered if he was impatient and eager to get to the next phase of foreplay because he shifted over me, his skin squealing against the marble when he began his descent. Troy backed down off the counter as his hot mouth trailed along my body, leaving damp kisses across the mesh fabric in its wake.