Chapter 4
Jett
"What the hell were you trying to pull back there?" Wilkin asks, barging into my bedroom.
"No, come in. Make yourself right at home."
"Can you grow up, please? I didn't ask for any of this to happen. I'd booked a nice cruise with my folks that I had to cancel."
I roll my eyes. "Boo hoo."
He huffs out a sigh and drags his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking out messily. "Look, whether we like it or not—"
"Or not," I chirp.
Wilkin growls but continues. "We're going to be spending the next few weeks together. Are you able to act like an adult?"
"I don't know." I hop off the bed, cross the room, open a bottle of water left on the small table in the corner, and flick some at Wilkin. "Is this acting like an adult?"
"Urgghhhhh." His head falls back, and the long, elongated groan reverberates around the room.
And my body, shooting straight to my hole.
No, no, no. On top of everything else going on right now, I am not going to get turned on by Wilkin.
I refuse.
Admittedly…if he weren't a smug, entitled ass with the personality of a beige wall, I could see how some people might consider him attractive with his sharp cheekbones and intriguing eyes that sometimes look golden in just the right light.
But Wilkin has done nothing but make my life hard for as long as I can remember, so I don't care how good-looking he is, I'm not interested in him.
Even if he does make my body react.
"Jett! Wilkin!"
Reeve's deep voice calls out from below. And possibly outside. I sidestep past Wilkin, who's drying himself like he just stepped out of the shower when I barely got any water on him, and open the window.
And almost fall out.
Because if I thought salad-making, Granny-loving, tight black T-shirt wearing Reeve was hot, seeing him in nothing but a pair of five-inch boardshorts is enough to make me self-combust.
He grins when he sees me. "Fancy a swim?"
"I fancy a lot more than that," I mutter under my breath. "I'd love to," I call out. "But I didn't bring a swimsuit."
"No problem. I'll lend you something. And Wilkin, too."
"Oh, don't bother. He can't swim."
"Like hell I can't," I hear from behind me, and then Wilkin shoves me out of the way and sucks in a breath so hard it's a miracle his lungs don't collapse.
"Is this really happening?" he whispers under his breath, gaping at Reeve in a way that is, like, so two minutes ago.
"Want to join me?" Reeve calls out.
"Of course. I'll be down in a sec."
"We'll be down in a second." Because, damn it all to hell, I am not missing out on this.
"Awesome. I'll go find some trunks for you guys to wear."
As soon as he saunters away…and we're done drooling over those two spectacular globes of an ass—I get right up into Wilkin's face.
"I'm calling dibs."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't act dumb. Reeve." I stab my chest with my thumb. "Reeve is mine. Are we clear?"
"You're out of your mind."
"Am I? So why didn't you stay at the big house with Penny?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I like Reeve, and I may want him to destroy my body in all sorts of delicious ways.”
Wilkin splutters in surprise.
I shrug. "What? I'm just being honest. I believe that's what adults do."
"Okay, fine. I like him, too," he concedes. "But hello, I'm not calling dibs on a person. That's not cool."
"Hello, you've taken everything I've ever wanted my whole life. That's not cool."
"That is not the same thing."
I drag a hand down my face. "Do we really want to get into this now when there is a Tarzan-esque god in five-inch shorts waiting for us to get into the pool with him?"
We stare at each other, and then, at precisely the same moment, we both bolt toward the door and down the stairs.
If that fucker beats me, I swear to god…