The Pool Boy

He’s panting, his shoulders and chest heaving and his muscles clenching over and over. He grins at me and leans in to kiss me, and his hand slides into and tangles in my hair. He grips me tight and kisses me slow and deep, until my toes are curling.

“That,” he groans. “Is four years of wanting to do that to you.”

I groan, still grinning. “Four years, huh?”

“Four fucking years,” he groans. He kisses me again and then sits back with a smug look on his face.

I arch a brow. “What?”

“So, who’s the winner?”

I giggle, groaning as I collapse onto the lounger.

“I want to say that’s a draw, but I’m pretty sure I just won,” I giggle. “Life, everything.”

He chuckles. “That so, huh?”

I nod, opening my eyes to see him looking at me like he wants to devour me whole. Fire stirs inside of me, and I bite my lip as I raise my head and glance down at his lap. My pulse skips a beat.

Jesus, he’s still hard as a fucking rock.

“You know what I think?” he growls.

“Please share,” I moan.

“I think you’d better clear the rest of your fucking afternoon.”

Um, yes please?