24. Weston

Morning skate is good, but I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop thinking about anything other than the way her hair smelled when we were sitting side by side in her bathroom, about that damned little smile of hers, about the feel of her body when I carried her to bed.

After practice, I still can’t get her off my mind, so I head to the pool on the roof of The Palais. I don’t come up here often, but today, I need to work out some excess energy. I would’ve thought the practice this morning would’ve done it, but nope. I’m still twitchy.

Jackass is in Hawaii, according to the lobby receptionist, so at least I know I won’t be running into him. And Renee still hasn’t figured out how to access the penthouse staircase, so she won’t be up here, either. I’ll have the whole place to myself to unwind.

I push the rooftop door open and walk out. From the doorway, I can’t see the pool, but I can hear the water lapping as I walk around the corner to where the pool area starts.

Weird. Maybe they’re doing maintenance or something.

There are four tables with umbrellas and six chaise loungers in a neat line. And in the pool…

Is her.

Son of a bitch. I guess she cracked the staircase puzzle.

I freeze in place. I have about three seconds to decide whether or not to race back to the door and out of sight or say fuck it and not let her presence drive me away. In the time it takes me to think about it, she bobs to the surface and rises out of it like a supermodel filming a music video. Hair streaming in a dark waterfall down her back, skin glistening in the sunlight. She’s a fucking dream come true in the tiniest scrap of a black bikini I’ve ever seen.

She locks eyes with me. I see her run through the exact same mental process I’m stuck in.

Fight? Or ignore?

Fight?

Or ignore?

Then she makes up her mind. I see it in the set of her jaw and the hardening of her eyes. She turns her back on me and goes back to swimming laps. I might be seeing things, but I could swear her strokes slice through the water with a little more menace than they did just a second ago.

I want to be pissed, but I can’t blame her. I was a dick earlier—on purpose, yeah, but still a dick.

I haven’t quite decided what I want to do as she reaches the far end of the pool, spins and kicks off the wall, then begins the journey back. Part of me is just enjoying the sight. It’s graceful. Elegant, even.

Pretty hot, also.

But I can’t stare—that’s a bad idea. And I won’t run—that’s a bad idea, too. It’s my pool as much if not more so than it is hers, and there’s plenty of room for both of us.

So I drop my towel onto a chair and dive into the water. I ignore her as she swims the opposite direction past me.

Meandering over to one corner, I hang by the edge of the pool where I can see the city below. L.A. stretches out for miles. A shining circuit board of a city. Big enough for the two of us to never, ever see each other again, if we so chose.

But instead, we’re in the same building, the same pool. Following in each other’s footsteps like I’m her shadow and she’s mine.

Infuriating.

When I turn, she’s lounging at the other end of the pool with her arms straight out along the edge of the tiling. “This thing used to freak me out when I first moved in.” I don’t know what makes me speak first, but I do. Maybe my subconscious is in control and itfeels bad for what happened earlier.

Not that it matters. Instead of replying, she dives under the water again. It’s a couple long seconds before she pops up next to me.

“Big guy like you afraid of a little water?” She wrings out her hair and a stream falls down her back.

“Nope. I was afraid of floating over the edge to my death.” I turn and peer over the infinity edge. It looks like there’s nothing holding the water in, but there’s a drain ledge around the long roof side of the pool that would catch me if my dumb ass fell over.

“Better be careful or I’ll throw you over the edge to your death.” She smirks and slaps water at me.

“Hey. You don’t want to do that.”

“Oh? Why not?” She smacks the surface of the pool again to send another splash into my face.

“Because then you leave me no choice but to do this.” I ensnare her around the waist and toss her as far as I can toward the other end of the pool. She squeals and plunges down in the water, disappears for a second, then bobs up and swims toward me.

When she’s close, she sinks below water level and then emerges behind me, pulling me down. I fall into the water because I need the cool-off. Her body feels too good, too smooth, too fucking perfect.

We come up together tangled around each other. It’s skin against skin and water is splashing everywhere and so I think two words to myself—Fuck it—and I do what I’ve been waiting way too long to do.

I kiss her.

It’s stupid, I know it. Maybe the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And certainly a complete about-face from this morning’s solemn promise to keep my distance come hell or high water.

But I kiss her anyway. Hard and hot. Claiming her. Branding her.

She plunges her fingers into my hair and holds me. I need more, to touch more, to feel more and do more. My body is vibrating with need and want.

She’s more incredible than even I thought she would be. Her ass fits in my hand like it was meant to be here. The cold of the water has her nipples pebbling through the thin fabric of her bikini top against my chest.

She gasps at first contact, but then our heat melds together and her tongue battles with mine while I ravage her mouth and tease her nipple. Her hips grind against my dick and I suck in a breath of night air, chlorine water, and Renee DuBois.

And then I move the hand on her ass lower, closer to her pussy, and she pushes her hips out, like she’s inviting me for a feel.

I slip beneath the hem of her bottoms and find her center. It’s tight around my finger, so fucking tight. So fucking wet.

When I pull out and push inside her again, she kisses me harder. This is incredible. She’s incredible. I should’ve done this the first night she moved in.

I lean down, ready to take her nipple into my mouth because I’m dying for a taste, when she moans, “Oh, Weston…”

And at that, I freeze all over again.

On one hand, because it’s the most perfect sound I’ve ever heard. This infuriating, irresistible woman, draped all over me in California sunshine on the literal top of the world, moaning my name in my ear while her pussy clenches around my fingers.

On the other hand, it’s the sound of the devil laughing in my face.

This is what she wanted. She probably planned it. She probably came up to the roof thinking she would wait for me here, so she could tempt me into this, so she could draw me close enough to sink her claws in and tear me limb from limb.

Renee. Is. Off. Limits.

I say it twice in my head for good measure. It takes the second time, but just barely.

I push her back off of me and swim to the end of the pool, ignoring my painfully hard dick. I’m downstairs, dripping on my hardwood floor, before she has time to tug her top back into place.

It doesn’t matter that I know my thoughts are insane and illogical. That there’s no way she could’ve known I’d come to the pool or that maybe she isn’t actually a scheming demon. It’s hard-wired into my system that all women are scheming demons. They can’t be trusted.

I have too much to lose.