Age Gap Romance by Penny Wylder
5
Dad picks me up outside to give me a ride home after work, the same way he does every day. Or rather, the same way he insists on doing every day, as if I’m a child who can’t be trusted to take care of herself. I finish picking up the rest of my stuff from the staff room and trudge out to the parking lot, my shoulders slumped. All day I dodged sideways comments and openly hostile glares from my coworkers. The word has gotten around by now, that I only have 3 patients on my rotation, while everyone else has upwards of dozens.
It’s not fair, they say, over and over, whenever I’m within hearing, and probably even more when I’m not. What I don’t say, what I can’t say back, is that I agree with them. It’s not fair. I wish Dad would come around on this.
But as I slide into the passenger seat, ready to argue with him again, the look on his face stops me dead. He’s wearing his serious, prepare for battle face. “Who died?” I ask grimly, buckling myself in.
Dad’s eyes narrow. “Nobody. Your mother called. She’s hosting a party tonight, so I’ll need you to continue to be on your… well, clearly not your best behavior, but better behavior than you’ve been on for the rest of the day thus far,” he grumbles.
I roll my eyes. “You can control my schedule and my job and my life, Dad, but unfortunately for you, you cannot control my emotions. I know you’d really love to be able to. Tough break.”
“It’s part of your job to provide a welcoming and enjoyable atmosphere for your patients at the hospital. I spoke to the Hartford boy you’ve been assigned to look after. His parents are not happy with the attitude you’ve been bringing along with you whenever you visit his room. If that’s an indicator of how you plan to handle these three patients for the rest of the week, then maybe I shouldn’t have even given you this miniscule of a job.”
I groan. As if taking away the real work wasn’t bad enough. “Dad, everyone already hates me for getting special treatment from you. They think I asked to be given a lighter workload, that I’m enjoying this.”
“Well, it’s up to you to turn your own prospects around. Now, about dinner. There will be about ten people coming over. Your mother wants barbecue, so we’re going to stop at the butchers on the way home. If you have any other requests, we can make a grocery store run as well…” He trails off, muttering under his breath. I know he’s going into over-planning land.
My dad even likes to micromanage things like parties. It’s why my mom gives him specific tasks, like dealing with the BBQ and the cooking. Not only does she know he loves grilling, but she also knows he’ll focus all his OCD tendencies on the dinner and leave her alone to prepare the drinks and the decor and the music—you know, all the fun parts of a party. Dad’s not exactly great at the whole letting loose and having fun thing.
A thought strikes me, as he’s rambling through his dissection of the dinner plans and side dishes we can prepare to go with the main course of ribs and steak. “Hang on. Who all is coming?” My heart leaps into my throat.
“I assume the usual crowd. Drew and Dorine, the Crowells, Russ of course…”
My breath comes short. I go tense, and I have to actually turn away from Dad to face the window, so he won’t see the visceral reaction on my face. Russ. I haven’t seen him since earlier, in the hallway at work. But I can’t stop thinking about the last thing he said to me. I’ll find a way to convince you, Maggie Owens. Mark my words.
Knowing Russ, I don’t doubt that he will. And that’s what scares me. Because I know how easy it would be, honestly, if he really set his mind to it. As it is, I can barely keep myself away from him. All day at work, he was on my mind. When I took my afternoon break, I locked myself in the break room and just pictured him in there with me. I imagined the way he’d pin me against the door and touch me, bold and demanding. He knows exactly what he wants, and he’s the kind of man who will stop at nothing to get it.
It sent a thrill through me then, as it does again now. It made me check the lock on the door, and then slip a hand down the front of my scrubs, unable to stand it, needing a release. I pictured his face in my mind, pictured him kissing his way down my body. I imagined the way that sexy, sculpted jaw of his would look between my thighs. I could imagine the scrape of his stubble against the soft, sensitive skin of my inner thighs as he dipped between them, pressing his face up against my pussy. I imagined the way his lips would feel against my pussy lips, as he kissed me slowly, carefully. His tongue would slowly part my slit, patient and teasing, the same way he touched me that first time, teasing me as he held me against the wall with my hands pinned over my head.
I pictured how it would feel to look down at him, to have him grin up at me, his dark salt-and-pepper hair falling across his even darker eyes as his tongue dragged along my slit, all the way up to graze my clit, and then back again. He would draw it out. He’d tease and lick and suck at me until I was almost screaming with desire, ready to lose my mind. Only then would he finally bear down and lap me with long, hard strokes, to make me come with a scream under his tongue.
I came on my own hand in the break room earlier today, just imagining that. My orgasm was so strong, I had to tug my panties back up, or I was going to get too wet for my own good. I’d gone about my rounds that afternoon afterward, shifting uncomfortably on my feet, knowing I was still wet because I kept picturing him and getting turned on all over again.
Now he’s coming to my parents’ house. Tonight. For an impromptu dinner that my mom decided to plan at the last minute. Something that, I have to admit, is pretty out of character for her. It makes me frown, wondering what’s really going on. Did she have a plan for this all along, or did Russ—who’s a close friend of my father, yes, but who’s also just as close with my mother, too—text her to suggest it?
Is this part of his plan to seduce me? I’ll find a way to convince you, he said, and I don’t doubt that he’ll stop at nothing. I’ve seen Russ work before. I know how he rose through the ranks at this hospital, as almost meteoric a rise as my father’s. They were two of a kind, at least when it came to their ambition and to chasing after what they knew they wanted.
Now I’m what Russ wants, and I can’t help but wonder… what lengths will he go to to win me? And will I really be able to hold out the way I’ve promised to? Or will I cave in, unable to fight the desire I’ve had building inside me for years?
I bunch my fists in my lap as Dad pulls in front the butcher’s shop, and promise myself that whatever happens tonight, I will stay strong.
* * *
By the time we get home, Mom’s already in full planning swing. There are cute fairy lights strung up throughout the pool area, to add ambiance to the little greenhouse area Mom and Dad splurged on so that we could have pool parties all year round, even in the winter.
If I’m going to live somewhere with crappy weather for the majority of the year, she always says, then I’m going to at least be able to throw some damn pool parties.
But tonight looks like it will be decent enough, the sky bright and clear overhead, clear enough we can even see a few stars, despite the constant light pollution of Manhattan. It’s still a little chilly, but it warmed up throughout the day, which means that the pool area feels even more heated than usual when we step into it.
Dad goes straight to work, beelining for the grill, already grumbling about how Mom should have warmed it up before he got here. But she stops him halfway to his job, and his worried look softens for a moment. They trade a slow, easy kiss, one that makes me regret not having dated anyone seriously up until now. Watching them together, I’m always reminded of the magic of the right pairing. As infuriating and bossy and controlling as Dad is, with Mom, he’s a completely different person. She softens all his edges, and she’s always been the only one who can talk him out of a bad idea or bring him around to a new point of view.
How she deals with his difficultness, I’ll never know. But I’m glad they found each another.
Thus placated, Dad stops his grumbling and fires up the grill with something almost resembling a smile on his face. While he does that, Mom heads over to the little bar we set up near the pool and starts mixing some drinks. “Come and try one, Maggie,” she calls. “I’m testing out a new recipe.”
Mom used to bartend, back before she had me. Now she doesn’t work, aside from the odd volunteering job here and there. But she always loves whipping out the old bartending skills, especially when there’s a house full of visitors to show off for. I watch her shake with an expert hand and pour the kind of carefully crafted cocktail that would be at home in an expensive Manhattan restaurant. The kind she used to work at back in the day, I know. She’s always talking about how many bartending and craft cocktail awards she won.
I take a sip after she offers it to me, and smile. “It’s delicious.”
“Pumpkin spice twist on a Manhattan,” she says with a grin. “Be careful. It’s pretty boozy.”
I take another sip, unable to resist, as Mom spots something behind me and buzzes past me.
“Russ!” she calls, and then I nearly choke on the next sip of the drink I’d taken. I set it down before I do something utterly unappealing like spilling it all over myself. My hands are already shaky from nerves. The last thing I need is to wind up wearing a drink on top of my scrubs.
Crap. My scrubs. I haven’t even changed yet, and he’s already here.
I spin around and watch him stride in to hug my mom. But his eyes find mine, and sear into me. He doesn’t look away as he releases Mom and calls a brief hello to Dad.
He looks better than ever tonight. Unlike me, he’s not still wearing his work clothes. He changed into a casual pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, one that, when tucked in like it is now, clings to his muscles, and shows off every inch of how ripped he is. I swallow hard and force myself to look away.
“Maggie.” Russ approaches me next and pulls me into a tight hug. It’s the same kind of hug he always offers me at these kind of parties, except that I can’t help but notice the way his hands slide over my backside and down my curves, all the way to my hips. He lingers there, for just a heartbeat longer than would be strictly proper, if not for the fact that he’s already fucked me way past propriety.
We break apart once more, and I suddenly find it’s difficult to catch my breath. I smile up at him and sidestep toward the door. “Excuse me. I should go get ready,” I murmur.
“Bathing suit on,” Mom calls as I slip out. “We’re all going swimming later, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
Russ calls out something in agreement, but I can feel his gaze still on me as I leave, and my heart rabbits in my chest in response, my pulse unable to slow down, my lungs unable to catch up with the breathlessness that comes over me whenever I know his attention is focused on me.
I hurry up to my bedroom. Some part of me expects Russ to follow, to try to seduce me up here the way I used to imagine him doing, after dinner parties when he’d sleep over some nights, in the guest room just down the hall from mine.
But he doesn’t show, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed by that fact. Relieved, I scold myself as I change out of my scrubs and into my bikini, before I throw on a shift dress as a coverup on top of it. I’m relieved. Or at least, I should be.
Still, I can’t help hesitating in front of the mirror for longer than strictly necessary. I contemplate putting on makeup to go with my outfit, but I know how warm it is out by the pool deck. Any makeup I put on right now would only sweat right off, and I didn’t want to hang out with Russ while looking like some kind of raccoon. So I just added a light foundation, a faint sheen of lip gloss, and left it at that. As for my hair, I piled it on top of my head, into a slightly messy ponytail that went with my casual dress look.
Finally, I didn’t have any more excuses to hesitate any longer. I needed to go downstairs and face him. To try and resist the heated gazes I know he’d be flinging my direction.
In front of my parents, no less. If I survived tonight, it would be a damn miracle.
With one last check in the mirror, I headed back downstairs. Before I even reached the ground floor, I caught the sound of voices. A couple other guests had arrived, and I waved and gave brief hugs here and there, to the couples who made up my parents’ social circle. While they chatted, I couldn’t stop my gaze wandering past them, though, seeking someone I wasn’t willing to admit I was looking for.
I didn’t stop doing that until I made it back out onto the pool deck, where I found Russ reclined near my dad, who was still bent over the grill, hard at work on dinner. As I entered, Russ waved me in their direction, his expression the kind of grin you’d see on a fox as it cornered a rabbit.
Damn him, he’s going to tease me right in front of my own father, I just know it. Still, I can’t ignore him, not when he calls my name and tells me to come and say hello.
With a deep, steadying breath, I snatch up my mom’s latest drink concoction and head across the pool deck toward them.
“Russ was just telling me how impressed he is by your work ethic,” my father says by way of greeting. His doubtful tone tells me without words that he doesn’t agree.
“Was he?” My gaze finds Russ, unable to resist. My body can’t really help itself around him, not even when I want it to. The way he’s staring at me even now makes my breath hitch, my fist tighten around my drink. His eyes tell me, with just as much detail as I know he’d say with that dirty mouth he could right now, exactly what he wants to be doing to me right now.
The flush starts low in my belly and creeps up my chest toward my neck. To fight it, I tear my eyes away from Russ and force them to fixate on my father. That will kill anyone’s buzz.
“He suggested I give you more patients, by way of testing you. To see if you’re ready to handle a full load.” Dad’s looking at me thoughtfully now. Like he’s actually considering it.
Despite my distraction at Russ being here, I can’t help it. A hopeful smile sneaks onto my face, my eyes widening. Is Dad really relenting?
One look at my expression and Dad’s stern face returns. “I didn’t say I would do it. Not yet, anyway. But he’s given me a lot to think about. If you manage to impress the board members within the next couple of days by going above and beyond before each of their kids leave the hospital…” He clears his throat. “Well, then it will be time to give you that greater test.”
A mixture of relief and shock floods me, tinged with annoyance. I shouldn’t have to beg my father’s permission just to be allowed to do my own job—the job I spent years in school preparing to do, and the job he himself hired me for, no less. But still. It will keep the other nurses on my wing from whispering about me behind my back—at least, any more than they already have been. And who knows? Maybe given a little time, I can get Dad to come around and see my side of things. If I impress the board members’ kids, then get my full rotation of patients back and impress all of their families too… well, eventually, if I work hard enough, Dad will have to take my complaints seriously, right? He’ll have to admit that I have a point about all of this.
A couple of days, Dad said. I can handle that. “I’ll be ready,” I tell him, taking a slow sip of my drink, my eyes not leaving my father’s as I rise to his challenge. If he thinks I’m going to fall flat on my face now, just because he pulled some shady underhanded controlling stuff to try to get me to do what he wants, he’s sorely mistaken. After all, he raised me. I know by now the best way to stand up to him.
Though not as well as Russ knows it, apparently.
“I’m sure she’ll surprise you,” Russ is saying, and I can tell by the way the heat in my body creeps up from my neck to turn my face red, that his eyes haven’t left mine. They probably haven’t strayed since I first walked into the room. I flick him a warning glance.
Much more of this and even my oblivious Dad will start to notice something is up.
But Russ doesn’t look apologetic. If anything, he looks happy. Triumphant. “I know Maggie surprised the hell out of me, with how quickly she’s grown up into… quite the young woman.”
If my father notices the way Russ lays on the word quite, he doesn’t let on. He just claps Russ on the back and clucks his tongue. “You would say that. Always the diplomat.”
“Me? You’re the one who deals with the board and all the snake talk. I just sew the wounded back together after the fallout.” They chuckle together, and Dad cracks some in-joke from their time in med school that has them both grinning. But I can still feel Russ’s gaze on me, even as I murmur an excuse about checking if Mom needs help, and sliding back toward the main house.
I only make it a few steps, though, before Mom herself emerges with a tray of drinks, trailing a handful more partygoers, the late arrivals. She stops at the sight of the empty pool and tsks in disapproval. “Nobody’s braved the water yet?” she calls out, her voice loud enough to cut through the din. “I thought I made it pretty clear that this was a swimsuits required gathering.”
A few of her friends laugh and protest about the cold outside.
Mom’s having none of it. She sets her tray of drinks on the side table and pulls off her own cover-up. “Nonsense. Since it’s cold outside, that is precisely why we need to take advantage of this decadent oasis.” Her eyes sparkle with mirth as she gestures at my father. “After all, back when my darling husband was just a broke med student living off boxed ramen above my bar, we could only have dreamed of luxury like this.” Her favorite stories all start with “when we were poor med students.” It’s like she has some kind of nostalgia for her broke days.
Then again, thinking about my times in nursing school with my friends, caffeinating each other through our exams, piling into our tiny studio apartments to swap notes and study… I can almost understand it. Med school was a simpler time for Dad, before he had to make decisions like the ones he does now. Back when they had more time for each other.
Done with her speech, my mother dives into the deep end of the pool, in a perfect arc that would make even Michael Phelps jealous.
A couple people even clap. I just watch, amused, aware of what’s coming. My father leaps into the pool next, summoned as he was by mother’s wave. He’s wearing swim trunks and his T-shirt still, and unlike her, he actually cannonballs in, making a huge splash. A few partygoers squeal.
But this is just how they are together. It’s the only time I can stand my dad, most of the time. Mom pops up to bow, and Dad splashes her. Which only gets her going. I watch the two of them goofing off, while a few of the other guests dutifully peel off coverups or jeans to reveal that they did in fact wear bathing suits after all. Guess I’m not the only one who knows my mother well.
I’m still watching the splash-fest when a warm hand comes to rest at the small of my back, setting off fireworks in my veins that stretch all the way down to my fingertips, tingle in my toes.
“Please tell me you’re wearing a bathing suit under that slip,” he murmurs. “I was really looking forward to seeing more of you tonight.” His breath is hot, right beside my cheek. He smells amazing, like mint and wood smoke and a hint of citrus from the drink in his hand. It makes my toes curl. I lean into him without even thinking about it.
“Show you mine if you show me yours,” I reply with a pointed glance at his outfit. Jeans and a T-shirt? Not exactly swimwear ready.
His eyes sparkle with amusement when he catches me looking him over. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m willing to reciprocate. But first…” Without warning, he bends and sweeps one strong arm under my knees, the other landing around my shoulders.
I let out a squeal when he picks me up in his arms. My drink splashes my arm until I reach out to set it on a table, struggling to escape from Russ’s grasp at the same time.
“Oh, no. It’s into the pool for you,” he says, louder now, so others can hear it. From somewhere in the background, I hear my mother cheering in approval.
But I have eyes only for Russ. For the way his gaze sears through me, devouring every detail of me.
I kick feebly as he walks toward the pool, carrying me as if I weigh nothing at all. Like I’m lighter than a feather. “No fair!” I call out. “At least let me take my shift off.”
“No phones in your pockets?” he asks, one eyebrow lifted, amusement glittering on his face.
“If I told you yes, would you set me back down?” I ask, unable to keep from grinning in spite of myself.
In response, the hand he has wrapped around my knees slide up my thighs. I swallow hard at the feel of his hot, strong palm resting against my outer thigh, right where…
Right where a pocket would be.
“Well, I’d set you down if I believed you,” he says, his smile growing wider. “But since you don’t have any pockets…”
“No, Russ!” I let out one last yelp before he tosses me. For a second I’m sailing, and I catch a glimpse of everyone in the deep end scattering out of the way. Then I hit the water and sink into it, feeling myself instantly soaked through from head to toe. When I splutter back to the surface, my mother is laughing with delight, and Russ’s eyes glitter with amusement. He checks me out shamelessly, studying his handiwork.
“That was so not fair,” I call out as he retreats from the poolside to peel off his shirt. Then my protests die on my lips, because I’m momentarily distracted by the sight of Russ’s shirtless chest.
Fuck.
I’ve seen him without his shirt before, of course. Dozens of times, at parties just like this one. My mom always makes everyone who comes over swim, since she says she wouldn’t let Dad splurge on such a fancy addition to the house without taking advantage of it whenever possible. Still, it’s different now, seeing Russ’s cut abs and his sculpted chest, speckled with a faint dusting of hair around his happy trail and across his pecs, just enough to remind anyone looking that he’s a Man, capital letter and all.
It’s different now, because I look at him, and all I can think is he fucked me. That man was inside me just a couple days ago.
My whole body goes taut with tension, and it’s all I can do to tread water and keep my head above the surface, because my body wants to sink down under it.
A few other couples tease at the poolside, a woman pushing her boyfriend in, another pair sliding into the shallow end with their drinks in hand. But I barely even pay any attention. My eyes are fixed on Russ, watching him peel off his jeans to reveal sculpted, muscular legs beneath his trunks.
Trunks that, I’m pretty sure, would show just how interested in me he was, if given the proper motivation. They fit pretty tightly, after all.
All of a sudden, I know what my revenge needs to be. I shoot a glance at the far end of the pool, but Mom and Dad are distracted now, sipping drinks and chatting with friends. I duck under the water and grasp the hem of my cover-up. It’s hard to struggle out of in the water, since the fabric is soaked through and clings to my body. But I finally manage to wrestle my way out of it, and I resurface at the ladder into the deep end. I climb up it to deposit my dress on a side table, then turn to face Russ, deliberately slow, letting the water drip off my body, knowing I look good in my bikini with my curves on display.
Sure enough, the second my eyes find his, I’m rewarded with a flash of white hot lust. He drinks me in, taking his time to size me up from head to toe, his eyes lingering on everything. My chest, my waist, my hips, my legs. When his eyes drift back to my face, I wonder if I’m imagining it, or if there’s a faint bulge already visible in his swim trunks
Without waiting to find out, I slowly saunter back to poolside and kneel down to perch on the ledge, making sure to turn so my side faces him, and leaning back just a little to let my breasts show to their full advantage.
Soon enough, I feel warmth at my back, and tilt my head back to find Russ standing behind me, his legs so close they touch the bare, soaking wet skin of my back. My wet hair sticks to his legs, and my head bumps against his shins as he studies me. He’s not even smiling, he’s so busy staring at me.
With a wink, I slip off the wall and into the pool, practically daring him to come and follow me.
A moment later, I hear a splash. I surface in the middle of the deep end, and have to swallow a gasp as a warm, familiar hand traces up my thigh to spread flat across my belly, just for a moment. Then Russ surfaces too, a little too close to me, his gaze fixed on me.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Maggie,” he murmurs, his voice pitched low, just for me, so nobody else will overhear him.
I grin in response. “I know.”
But I have no idea how dangerous it’s about to get. From the other end of the pool, Mom calls out for attention. “Who wants to play chicken?” She taps Dad’s shoulder, and then swats him again, more playfully, when he pretends to groan. I know secretly he loves it. Nobody brings out my father’s goofy side quite like my mother, and she knows when he needs it most.
Given how stressed he’s been at the hospital, I’m sure he really does need this time to blow off steam.
“John and I will go up against the first contender,” Mom is saying, when behind me, someone clears his throat.
“Maggie and I will play.” Russ. I whip around to stare at him, wide-eyed. Normally the couples all play this game. Is he trying to get us caught? But he just winks at me, and keeps an innocent, wide smile plastered on his face as he paddles toward the shallow end of the pool.
With one last gasp of worry, I swim after him. But my mom and dad don’t look suspicious or worried. I guess Russ has been hanging out with us for so long that they wouldn’t even think to be suspicious of anything going on between us. Still, it makes my heart race when Russ and my dad shake hands, trading good-natured insults about who’s going to destroy whom.
Mom flashes me a wink and a grin, before she easily swings her legs around Dad’s neck, and he hauls her up onto his back. They’ve done this so many times that she finds her balance in a split second, like it’s second nature.
A knot of fear curls in my stomach. But it’s overpowered by the anticipation, as Russ kneels in front of me. I swallow through a suddenly dry throat and reach up for his shoulders. He takes both of my hands in his instead, and I push my weight onto his hands as I swing my legs up his backside to wrap over both his shoulders at once.
He’s so warm, his muscles tensing under my weight. It makes me catch my breath. Especially when he lets go of my hands. I grasp his head to steady myself, and I’m painfully aware of where my pussy is pressed against the back of his neck, his head nestled into my belly, his hair tickling the soft, sensitive skin there.
What did I just get myself into?
My parents’ other friends form a loose circle around us, some cheering and clapping, others just grinning and sipping their drinks. Mom and Dad are frighteningly good at this game. They’re usually the undefeated champs of the night. Which is probably why they always suggest playing it. Mom loves any game where she can dominate.
It takes me longer than her to get my balance. Feeling Russ move beneath me, and having to adjust my weight and balance in tune with his, feels strangely intimate. Especially when his hands drop to grip my thighs tightly, just bare inches from his own face. I suck in a sharp breath and try not to focus on how good his hands feel pressed against my skin.
I try not to think too hard about how good his head feels between my thighs, either, or I’m going to start wishing he was facing the other direction.
“Ready?” Mom calls and holds out her arms.
I grasp her forearms in the starting position and offer a grin that feels braver than I actually feel right now. “Ready,” I reply, and I’m glad my voice doesn’t quiver the way my body is doing right now.
Without any more warning, Mom starts to shove at me, hard.
I push right back, bracing myself against Russ. It makes me grit my teeth, struggling to keep my seat as Mom tries her best to fling me off him, first by throwing her weight to one side, then the next. Dad moves with her every motion, so she’s never thrown off balance by her own attempts.
After a couple of close calls, where I nearly topple before righting myself at the last moment, and only thanks to Russ’s tight grip on my thighs, I notice that under the water, Mom’s legs are tapping. She gently taps her heel against Dad’s side to indicate which direction she’s going to try to throw me next.
The next time she does it, I tap Russ on the other side, then throw my weight opposite her. She gasps and swears, and nearly loses her seat before Dad skips to one side to catch her.
“Careful there, old man,” Russ calls out playfully, and I suppress another shiver at the way his voice travels through me when he speaks, with me up on his shoulders like this. It feels like a vibration going through me.
“Look who’s talking!” Dad calls back, and then he pushes toward us, Mom going on the offensive again.
I brace hard and manage to twist away from her tackle attempt yet again. I tap Russ on the other side, and we sidestep another attack by our opponents. That’s when I feel Russ’s hands slide a little higher. Just an inch. But a moment later it happens again, his hands inching toward the crease where my leg touches my thighs. My breath hitches.
It’s enough of an opportunity, apparently. Mom lunges without warning, and I’m too distracted by Russ’s hands. She grabs my forearms and flings me backward, and a moment later, I slide off Russ’s back into the cool waiting water of the pool.
I resurface a split second later to thunderous cheers and yells.
Dad and Russ shake good-naturedly, Mom slaps my back and winks. “Better luck next time,” she calls. But I barely even notice, as she and Dad turn to face their next competitor, a younger couple who live down the street.
I don’t notice, because Russ is behind me, his hands on me again, but my hips this time, drawing me back against him. It’s dangerous. Playing with fire, to stand this close right now.
“Good game, teammate,” he says softly, and his hands slip down over my hips to grab my ass, tightly, fast. His hand moves again before I can even react, but I suck in a sharp, startled breath.
Fuck. I want him. So goddamn badly, it’s killing me right now.
“You threw that game,” I hiss through clenched teeth, after my heart rate calms down again, and my breathing returns to almost normal. “I got… distracted.”
“I was hoping you would.” His eyes dance with amusement. Then I notice him glance sideways, just a little, quick as a blink. “They’ll be busy for a while…” he points out. With that, he steps back and grasps the rung of the ladder on this end of the pool. Then he hauls himself up and out of the water, shooting me one last pointed backward glance, before he snags a towel and pads through the greenhouse to the sliding door and back inside the house.
The deserted house, now that the rest of the party are all occupied out here.
My heart hammers in my chest. I glance around the pool again, at all the people cheering on the game or pouring themselves new drinks or snacking on the sidelines. I hold my breath and wait what feels like an eternity but is probably really only half a minute. Then, pulse racing at what I’m about to do, I swim over to the ladder and climb up to follow Russ inside.
