Probably not.
I told myself I’d help Beck clean up and then go home where I can clear my thoughts and get a little perspective. Spending all this time alone with him is making me want things that aren’t in my best interest.
Sensing the refusal perched on the tip of my tongue, Beck tilts his head before cajoling, “Come on, Stanbury. We’ve spent the last couple of hours cleaning and our parents won’t be home for at least another hour.” He pauses before adding, “You might not realize this, but you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”
“I’m not trying to be,” I mutter. It’s difficult to admit, even to myself, but he wasn’t wrong earlier when he claimed I’ve been put in a little box. Except my parents aren’t the ones who put me there. I did. I haven’t been able to figure out another way to hold my family together. I’m afraid that if I cause trouble or make waves, it’ll be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and we’ll splinter even further apart. I can’t allow that to happen.
“Are you sure about that?” With the sun beating down on Beck’s bare chest, he looks like a god. “You’re so fucking perfect that it’s difficult to stomach.”
His words are like a slap in my face.
I am not perfect. I’m just not careless in the decisions I make. My goal in life isn’t to cause as much havoc as I can. Since when is that a crime?
When I remain locked in place, he drags his khakis down until the material is puddled at his feet. Grey boxer-briefs cling to his lean hips and thighs. Years of working out and playing football have honed his body into a work of art.
“Sometimes all I want to do is mess you up. Even if it’s for a moment.”
His words knock the air from my lungs, making it impossible to breathe.
A wicked grin dances across his face before he dives into the water. I track his movements as he arrows through the clear liquid, surfacing about twenty feet from the edge of the pool. When he whips his dark hair away from his face, droplets of water scatter around him in the bright sunlight.
Staring at him makes my heart hurt.
“What’s it going to be?” He treads water in the deep end near the diving board. “The water feels amazing. Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”
What I should do is go home, but my feet are frozen in place.
Fooling around with Beck is stupid. And if there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s stupid. My moment of weakness from earlier this morning is messing with my head.
Go home, my brain instructs.
I’m startled out of those thoughts when beads of water land on my bare arms and dot the gold tank I’m wearing.
Beck grins. “Come on, Stanbury. Get your ass in the water.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, the top is over my head and I’m standing in front of Beck in my bra. Heat leaps into his eyes and my belly trembles in response. I slide the denim skirt over my hips and down my thighs. Once it lays crumpled at my feet, I step out of it and force myself to walk toward the water.
What I’m doing is so unlike me, and I can’t help but feel that I’m digging a deeper hole to crawl out of. Even though I know spending more time with Beck is a bad idea, that’s exactly what I want to do.
Once I reach the edge, my toes curl around the azure-colored ceramic tiles before I dive into the water. Beck is right, the pool is refreshing. The coolness slides over my heated flesh as I glide through the liquid before surfacing. I wipe the water from my face and glance around, but Beck isn’t where I last saw him. I startle when hands wrap around my waist from behind and yank me backwards.
“You’re so fucking sexy that it kills me to look at you,” he growls against my ear.
A thousand shivers scamper down my spine.
Before I can summon a response, he hoists me from the water and tosses me through the air as if I weigh nothing at all. A scream rises in my throat as I slip beneath the surface. When my toes touch the bottom, I bend my knees and push off against the tiles, fleeing in the opposite direction. I don’t get far before Beck grabs me, tugging me into his arms again.
I hate to admit how much I enjoy being with him.
Don’t get used to it.
For the next thirty minutes, we goof around. Every time Beck gets his hands on me, he tosses me in the air. As soon as he lets go, I slide beneath the water and try to escape. It never takes long for him to catch me again. Our hands stroke over slippery wet skin as we kiss before breaking apart and doing it all over again. There’s only so much I can take before my breathing becomes labored. Even though I’m in good shape from a decade of competitive tennis, I’m exhausted. We’ve raced from one end of the pool to the other countless times. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and I don’t even want to try. For the first time in my life, I don’t stop to weigh the pros and cons. I go with it.