The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

But it’d need help.

I leaned back, bracing a hand behind me on his knee, and walked the fingers of my other hand down to where we were connected. Troy’s eyes widened with excitement as he realized what I was doing.

His voice rasped like it’d been dragged over gravel. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

I rubbed myself as his compliment caused sparks to fire inside my body. He was doing more of the work than I was, but it still required a ton of exertion from me, and I was grateful I was in the best shape of my life. Sex with him would leave me blissfully sore all over.

“Tell me you’re close,” he demanded.

I was, but I slowed the roll of my body and peeled my lips back in a victorious smile. “Maybe I want to enjoy you like this for a little while longer. You can keep up, can’t you, Troy?”

Dark heat flashed in his eyes. “Yeah, I fucking can.”

“It’s okay if you can’t,” I whispered, stunned by my mocking tone. “I have a drawer of toys that I can always—”

His fingers bit into my waist, commanding me to move. “Maybe you don’t need them anymore. You want to get off? I’m right here.”

He licked the pad of his thumb, shoved it between my legs, and pushed my hand out of the way. The way he touched me was indecent. Shocks ran along the insides of my thighs.

His tone reflected his ruthless determination. “You like the sound of that? Me being your personal sex toy?”

“Fuck,” I cried. My mind went white-hot at the idea.

“Yeah, I thought so.” He rubbed circles on my swollen clit while he continued to pound at me from beneath. “You can use me however you want to.”

My heart sprinted frantically, flying toward explosion. Even though I wasn’t scared, something like panic filled my voice. “You’re going to make me come.”

“You’re goddamn right,” he growled.

Pleasure gripped my body and mind so all I could do was endure the sensations flooding through my limbs. The orgasm swept through me so abruptly, I gave a choked-off cry and collapsed on him, my legs quaking.

His arms locked around me to hold me still as he found his end. I was still falling apart with ecstasy as he joined me, slowing to a stop, and throbbing deep inside. Our gasps for breath were loud in each other’s ears, and beneath my palm on his chest, I could feel his heart racing.

Our bodies cooled as he held me shuddering in his arms.

It felt so good tears pricked at my eyes, but I hid it by pressing my lips against the spot in his neck where his quick pulse was beginning to ease.

My voice was so quiet, it was barely audible. “You’re kind of amazing.”

His chest lifted with a deep breath. “I was hoping you thought so.”

ELEVEN

Erika

When Troy returned from the bathroom, he dropped down beside me and cast a thick arm over the back of the couch. It was meant to look casual, but there was a subtle possessiveness to it that I adored. It made it easy to fit myself against him.

How long would this last, where every little thing he did revealed how much I’d been missing?

I tentatively used a fingertip to trace a pattern on his thigh. “We never made it to the bedroom.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Got sidetracked. Next time.”

His statement hung in the silence of the room. Not because there wouldn’t be a next time, but because I had guilt knowing that there would be one. It seemed inevitable. I’d given in to all my desires, and I was sure I’d only crave him more now.

When Jenna found out, I was going to lose her. And I deserved to, didn’t I?

I didn’t want to think about it right now. The guilt would come soon enough, and it’d be crushing.

The electronic trill of my phone came from my bedroom, and for a moment I considered ignoring that too and staying cozied up under Troy’s arm. But it was likely Ardy, wanting to know how my meeting had gone with the potential new client. He didn’t like how mysterious I’d been, and curiosity was eating him up.

“I should get that,” I said, reaching for my robe.

Only when I dashed into my room, picked up my cell phone, and saw the caller ID, I rolled my eyes. What the fuck was Clark’s deal? I punched the screen to send the call to voicemail. He wouldn’t leave a voicemail and was incapable of sending a text message. I suspected he didn’t want to put anything in writing or a recording. Had he forgotten the divorce was official?

When I came back to the living room, Troy had pulled on his shorts and was knotting the strings at his waist. It gave me a view of his sculpted chest and the ridges of muscles surrounding his rib cage.