11. Chapter 10 #3
Mason's voice cuts through the morning air like a bucket of ice water, and I jerk back from Beck so fast I nearly submerge.
My hand flies out of his trunks and my legs unwrap from his waist.
I spin toward the pool wall, gripping the edge with white knuckles, my chest heaving as I nearly fucking drown. Beck steadies me, letting me hold onto him as we spin to see Mason standing on the second-floor balcony in joggers.
He's wearing black rimmed glasses and holding a mug of coffee in his hand, his hair still sleep-mussed. He squints down at us, his expression completely neutral.
"Oh, shit. Sorry guys." Mason frowns down at us. "How's the swimming lesson going?"
I can't look at him. I physically cannot turn my head toward that balcony. My face is on fire.
"Great," Beck says casually, like he wasn't just grinding his massive cock against me in a swimming pool. "She's a natural."
Fuck.
My neck is still throbbing where Beck's hand was, and I can feel how swollen my lips are, and I'm ninety percent sure my swimsuit is twisted in a way that tells the entire story.
Mason takes a slow sip of coffee. His eyes moving between us. I don't know how, but I sense him seeing everything.
"Cool." He pauses. "You seen Biscuit? He was sleeping on my bed, but—"
Beck tilts his head back, water dripping down his jaw, looking up at the balcony like this is the most normal conversation he's ever had in his life. "He's on the deck. Passed out in the sun like the freeloader he is."
Mason nods, takes another sip of coffee. His gaze lingers, and then he pushes off the balcony railing with his free hand.
"Cool. Enjoy your… lesson."
I want to dissolve into chlorine.
Beck gives him a cheerful thumbs-up. "Will do, brother."
Mason disappears back inside, and silence crashes around us.
"So." Beck stands three feet away, chest heaving, his swim trunks doing absolutely nothing to hide the situation I just had my hand on. "I usually charge extra for this kind of lesson."
A laugh bursts out of me, as I push a splash of water at his face. "Shut up, Beck. Now help me get out, I've never been more embarrassed in my life."
I drag myself up the pool steps, water streaming everywhere, and Beck wraps a towel around me as my hands refuse to stop shaking.
My swimsuit has migrated somewhere it should never be. And my neck still tingles where his palm was.
I grabbed his hand and made him squeeze tighter.
Who am I?
Do I really want him to do that kind of thing to me?
My pussy gives a tight squeeze, and I think I have my answer.
"So. That was a good first lesson. Same time tomorrow?" Beck winks, wringing the water from his hair.
"Please stop talking. I cannot do that again."
"Come on, you had fun."
"What about that was fun? Did you see Mason smirking?!"
Beck shrugs it off. "Darce, you had your hand down my trunks before seven a.m. I'm going to be thinking about that during warmups today. Hell, I'll probably be thinking about that during the anthem on Saturday. During—"
"Please stop talking."
"The national anthem's going to be so weird for me now."
I press the towel into my face. This is fine. I'm a professional woman who just felt up the player I'm trying to trade in his luxurious pool.
And God help me… I want to do it again. Immediately. With fewer brothers on balconies.
"Hey." His voice drops. "Look at me."
I lower the towel, and Beck's right there, water still sliding down his chest.
"Don't forget about Saturday," he says. "We're gonna win that game. Zoey's bringing Morgan, and I'm going to be playing for my career."
"I know." I swallow hard. "I'll be there."
The trade deadline flashes through my head, followed immediately by Colin's warning that teams are already circling.
I should tell Beck.
After what just happened between us, keeping something this important from him suddenly feels dangerously close to lying.
Except I don't tell him.
Not yet.
"Exactly. You'll be in the suite, working." His grin turns filthy as he moves closer. "I'll be on the ice, performing. Nothing motivates a man like knowing the woman who had her hand on his—"
"Finish that sentence and I'll hold you under in the shallow end."
"—his heart, is watching." He steps in, stealing the corner of my towel to dry his face, which puts him four inches away. "And after the game, you're mine. Win, lose, or concussed into next week… I'm taking you on that first date. Best day of your life, remember?"
He dips his head and kisses me, deep, slow, his hand curling warm around the back of my neck like it lives there now.
I make a sound I've never made before, and when he pulls back, his voice is pure gravel.
"You did good this morning, Darce. Gold star." His thumb strokes my bottom lip. "And I can't wait for Saturday. Wait till you see the rest of the curriculum… Proper ladies always finish on top in my classes."
He winks, and I leave the mansion ten minutes later with damp hair, a swimsuit twisted under my clothes, and a full-body throb no amount of convertible air-conditioning can fix.
Saturday suddenly feels very fucking far away.