11. Chapter 11
Ames
I have to cross most of the first floor of the building to find Saint.
The smell of chlorine hits me as soon as I open the door to the pool room.
It's a smallish, warm space, compared to the weight room behind me or the expanse of the field outside.
Fully tiled, it holds five metal tubs and three small pools.
One of them looks like an underwater treadmill, wide enough to reach from side to side, and with metal rods and handles fixed to the edges.
A larger one, quietly waiting at a corner, seems to have underwater handrails.
From my place, they look like the kind of implements gymnasts train on.
Saint is in the last one. It's a much more traditional-looking one, with a sitting ledge all around.
Even through the water, I can see him relaxing in only shorts.
By the time I realize I'm licking my lips, it's too late to stop it.
His thick thighs are out to play again, like when I first came to his place unannounced and I caught him in his underwear.
Just like back then, his chain shines around his neck.
His sculpted everything is a sight to behold, including the hills of his wide shoulders and arms, stretched out on the edge of the pool .
He looks like this is his favorite vacation spot. His eyes remain closed. My heart skips a beat.
"I'll be out soon." His voice is placating. "But no club for me tonight either."
"Why not?" I ask. I may have blushed from the sight alone. "It's been a while. You used to be there every week…"
Like maybe I'm catching him in a private moment… or he could catch me getting flustered.
Saint's eyes snap open. "This is a surprise."
He tracks my movements as I take a folded stool leaning against the wall. I open it, one handed, then sit on it. Affecting a casual mood, I lean back on the wall, using a few towels hanging from hooks for cushioning.
I'm in his line of sight.
I shake the smoothie in my hand. "I brought you something."
He nods and stretches a long arm in my direction. I mirror him and give him his drink. He goes right back to relaxing against the pool side wall.
He takes a sip. "Thanks. Wonderful service. Five stars."
"Now you only need a splash of something alcoholic, and you could fully pretend you're in a seaside resort."
"Hey, this is basic self care. Taking care of my body is important in this job."
"I'm sure it is. And now that you have someone at home interrupting your recreational activities, you have to take your chance at self care whenever you can, right?"
He sips from his smoothie again and rolls his eyes. "Stop with that already. If I wanted to, I'd find a way."
"Sooo… you don't want to…?"
He runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes fixed on me. It's an effortlessly sexy move. Added to the way he studies me, like he's figuring out exactly what I'm asking… It makes me a little breathless.
"Mh," he utters. "I don't remember you ever asking about my dating life. "
And I definitely shouldn't be. My four-year relationship ended only a month ago.
The breakup is proving I didn't have as good a relationship as I thought.
That I may not have been as in love as I believed.
But I need to process all of that, be sure I'm doing things right this time.
Discover what 'doing things right' means.
Letting myself develop a crush on my brother's friend, the one who's opened the doors of his home to me— that's not in the picture.
I haven't even gathered the courage to go get my things from Aidan's place. Which I absolutely must do. Soon. No time to develop a crush, when I have important things like that to do.
"I've known you for a long time," I say. "I don't think it's a coincidence that you suddenly stopped going out and doing your thing the same day I asked you to let me stay."
And I have feelings about it. They tingle at the top of my stomach, and travel up my chest like sparks from a fire at night.
Ames— pretend they're just curiosity.
Saint cocks his head and inspects me for a moment longer. I let him, and tell myself it doesn't affect me too much. If I focus on how Saint has traditionally looked everywhere else but me when dating, I'll squash those budding feelings inside me.
He stands. Water cascades down his torso, and several drops trail slowly behind. They are a caress on his skin, and yet I'm the one shivering.
Casually, like he's holding a cocktail at a pool in some sunny destination, he comes close to me. With him still in the water, we're at eye level.
"Doing my thing?" he asks. "What do you think my thing is?"
" Fu-dating , remember? But I'm not judging. You get to date as much as you want. All I care about is to make sure I'm not in your way."
He places his smoothie on the tile at my feet. With the ease of someone comfortable with themselves, who has a body this world was built for, he gets out of the pool .
Six recessed lights shine from the ceiling, creating stars on every swell of muscle, and sharp shadows on every chiseled dip of his body.
He glistens. I can't help but to catalog the view, until my eyes catch the patch of wet fabric at his hips, sticking to his skin.
An impressive bulge distends the navy shorts.
I bite back a gasp and cast my eyes to the floor. His eyes were on me. He knows exactly what I was looking at.
I need to feign disinterest.
With my heart beating in my ears, I grab my phone from my pocket and play with it in my hands. I have a few texts but I don't open the notifications. I wouldn't be able to process anything anyway.
The image of Saint standing wet and shiny in front of me is burned in my brain. I desperately review what little I could see, because maybe that bulge was more than a play of light and shadows. He might have been hard.
Fuck. I'm sure it's obvious my sudden interest in the tiled floor and the device in my hands is only a performance. But he doesn't say anything yet, and I don't know how to break the ice. I limit myself to hiding the tremors running down my spine.
"Ames."
My name on his lips is a dare.
I lift my eyes to his. Damn, he knows what he's doing. He knows he's hot and is challenging me to acknowledge it.
He runs a finger under his chain, putting it in its place. "Have you thought about what doing my thing would entail? You in your room, and someone screaming my name across the wall? Would you be okay with that?"
All I can think about is hooking a finger through the chain and using it to pull him to—
My phone vibrates in my hand. It's distracting enough that I don't finish the thought.
I clear my throat. "It doesn't matter if I'm okay with that. "
My phone vibrates again, but I continue to ignore it. I keep my eyes on Saint, as he puts himself on display for me.
"It matters." He takes a step closer. "A lot."
My phone vibrates once more, and still I ignore it. I can't look away from Saint now. Whoever gives this up first— whatever it is— loses.
"I don't want to go out seeking another mindless sexcapade." Saint lifts a hand and my heart jumps to a gallop, because it looks like he's going to caress my face. "Not when— if you're right there next door from me."
If his hand connects with my skin, I might not give this moment between us up, but I might give in.
I don't know what to make of it. Of his words. Of my reaction. You wouldn't know my life fell apart a month ago, from the way I'm obsessed over small moments like this with my brother's friend. The guy who didn't have to welcome me into his home, but did anyway, no questions asked.
The wide receiver, catching me in my moment of trouble… triggering moments of weakness.
My heart drums deep in my chest. Its vibration travels with low frequencies through my flesh. His chest is close to me, and I would only need to lean forward and steal a taste.
I'm flustered. I shouldn't be feeling any of this. It shouldn't be this intense. Why is it even happening?
If he touches me again, I might—
Except his fingers only tease my cheek. It would be easy to deny any intention to caress my face. Especially as his hand moves past me, and grabs a towel hanging behind me.
All I can come up with in response is a complaint. I want him to touch me.
My phone rings. I jump. Only a few select people can get through when calling, as I always keep it silenced, and I suspect— I forgot to take Aidan's number off the list of exceptions.
I check the screen. I have five texts from him, and now he's calling me .
Shame washes over me. It kills everything else I had been feeling, acting like a guillotine on the way down. Like my ex caught me flirting with my brother's friend.
I glance at Saint. The towel hangs from his hand. His eyes are on my phone, then they lock with mine.
My lungs struggle to keep up with my racing heart.
"It's him." He presses his lips together. "What do you want to do?"