Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
He knew quite well that sometimes the students snuck in to skinny-dip despite all the safety warnings, but...
Whenever he caught them at it, he stuck them with grounds duty for months.
This time would be no exception.
Tightening his jaw, he changed his path to find the footstones buried in the grass and leading up to the annex. When he pushed the door open, though...
He didn’t expect to find not the students—
But Summer.
Summer cut through the glossy blue waters of the pool like a seal, sleek and strong and gleaming, the sheen of water pouring over him turning his tanned skin into burnished gold. He was tight and toned from head to toe, with long, graceful legs sculpted into smooth flexions of muscle that kicked powerfully, while hardened arms cut through the water smoothly and made his naked back bunch and coil with kinetic energy captured in sinew, transformed into propulsion, nearly writhing with naked sensuality. The water glided over him as if it loved him, and wanted to cling to him as closely as possible.
From the hot, almost furious yearning in the pit of his stomach, the tightening in his thighs, the pulling at his core...
Fox knew the feeling all too well.
Summer reached the end of his lap and stopped at the edge of the pool, settling to tread water with one hand gripping at the molded concrete rim and the other pushing his hair back out of his face; he wore swim trunks that were barely more than briefs, tiny shorts in a dark, satiny blue that clung obscenely to his hips and thighs, cupping his bottom and seeming to lick at his skin as he pulled himself out, water sheeting off him in caressing droplets and his entire body one perfect flux, a ripple of strength pouring from head to toe as he hauled himself out so effortlessly and twisted to sit on the edge with his feet dangling in the water.
He reached for the towel he’d left folded on the edge of the pool.
Then stopped, eyes widening as they locked on Fox.
“Oh,” Summer said faintly. “Hi.”
Fox realized he’d been staring.
Utterly transfixed, captured simply by the obsessive worship of every inch of Summer, devouring him with every look and so completely lost in taking him in that he hadn’t even realized what he was doing, hadn’t even thought to stop himself until he was already caught, frozen, going stiff.
Oh.
Well.
This was awkward.
He cleared his throat, gut tightening, tearing his gaze away from the way a single glistening runnel of water poured down Summer’s cheek to catch on the stark, graceful line of his jaw, hanging there like a captured tear...only to fall, glimmering, down to catch on the temptingly strong lines of his throat. Instead Fox stared somewhere over his head, fixing on one of the life preservers mounted on white tile walls that shimmered with the ever-shifting reflections off the surface of the water.
“My apologies for intruding,” he forced out, his jaw tight, refusing to unclench. “I had thought one of the students was breaking curfew, as well as the rules about pool hours.”
Summer let out a quiet, embarrassed laugh. “I think I’m probably still breaking the rules, but I was hoping I wouldn’t get caught and fired.”
“I think if I haven’t reported you for grossly inappropriate behavior yet, you’re safe from this minor infraction.”
“Or you just don’t want to admit you keep making exceptions for me,” Summer lilted softly. “You want to come in? It’s actually not too cold.”
Fox flinched.
He felt it inside as much as out in that instinctive recoiling of his body; the instinctive recoiling of his thoughts, a defensive barrier slamming down.
He was fine, usually, as long as he didn’t think about it—about the cold airless depths. He could be near water, could walk over bridges and along ponds without a second thought, so long as the water didn’t...
Didn’t touch him.
Didn’t wrap around him in its cold, sucking embrace and give him a taste of what it must have felt like.
Sometimes it came to him in his dreams.
Where he couldn’t escape, until his body woke him in a cold, terrible sweat.
He had no choice about his dreams.
He at least had a choice not to torture himself while awake.
He folded his arms over his chest, and told himself he wasn’t wrapping them around himself in a defensive wall.
“I don’t swim,” he said carefully. “I prefer to avoid immersion in water entirely, other than the necessities for a shower.”
Summer had started to unfold the towel—but now stopped with the pale terrycloth clasped between his fingers, watching Fox discerningly. His guilelessness was disarming, Fox had started to realize over the passing days; it was so easy to get distracted by the frank openness in his eyes that one didn’t realize that as much as Summer gave away his emotions...