A moment later, a bit closer, “Jesus. Please tell me you’re not about to rob someone.”
I turn around to see him standing just outside the property, a rare look of panic marring his carefree mask. “I’m not a criminal!”
“What are you doing, then?”
Reaching back, I unfasten my zipper and let my dress hit the pavement, revealing the secret I had hidden beneath the thick white material.
A “Jesus” escapes Ben’s lips in a hiss as his eyes graze over the matching red underwear set. I actually used to love the color, and this particular set was one of Jared’s favorites. I remember staring at it in my trash can for two hours before pulling it back out, way back when I first moved to Miami. The bra really does do wonders for me. “You know, there’s an ocean out there that no one owns.”
“It’s too cold.” I fight a sudden rash of nerves as I unfasten my bra next. “Have you never snuck into a person’s pool before?”
Covering his mouth with his hand as his eyes remain glued on my now bare chest, he mutters, “Not at a random multimillion-dollar Miami home.”
“A random multimillion-dollar Miami home with no security and no signs strictly forbidding it. In my opinion, they’re asking for it.” Taking a deep, calming breath, I shimmy out of my panties, Ben’s eyes unpeeling themselves from my chest to shoot downward. “I knew you were a wuss.” The glass surface of the pool barely ripples as I slide soundlessly into the water.
He purses his lips for a moment as if deciding his next move. “I’m not a wuss. I just don’t feel like getting arrested tonight.”
“Wow. This feels so good against my skin,” I taunt in an intentionally seductive tone, trying to keep my splashes to a minimum as I sail across the span of the deep end.
“Fuck,” I hear from the shadows behind me. And three . . . two . . . There’s a rustling of branches as Ben climbs over the hedge, tossing off his shirt. “Damn it, Reese. Mason was right. You are trouble.” I ignore the comment and watch in silent appreciation of his physique as his shoes and socks come off next, followed by his pants and boxers.
Okay. I’ll admit it. Ben has something to brag about. I’ll also admit that I’m probably about to do something really stupid with him. And that little switch inside that’s supposed to kick in and make me care—I think it’s called morals or a conscience, or . . . I’m not really sure—well, it hasn’t done anything but sit back and enjoy the show so far.
Ben slips into the pool on the other side much more quietly than I would expect someone of his size to sound. And when he begins wading over to me with intense purpose on his face, those dead butterfly corpses lying in my stomach—the ones Jared smashed long ago—begin fluttering like mad again.
Ben makes me feel good. He makes me feel important.
Maybe I do want this to happen.
But I’m not about to make it that easy for him. With a small, giddy giggle, I push off the side and skim across the water until I’m on the opposite end. I manage this two more times but, with Ben’s huge arm span and strength, I soon find myself in a game of cat and mouse that has me caged against a wall with my predator’s hot breath warming my cheek and his broad chest pressed against mine, holding me in place. We’re standing on the slope down to the deep end, the water leveling just above my collarbone. “I feel like a fucking sixteen-year-old kid right now. Thanks.”
“I liked being sixteen, so you’re welcome.” I’m having a hard time steadying my voice. I’m not sure if it’s due to the thrill or nervousness.
Ben snorts, one hand sweeping my hair off my shoulders. “Why? Because you could only be tried as a minor?”
“None of those charges ever stuck.” Damn, was I ever a pain in the ass to Barry. And Jack. I should probably apologize to both for the premature graying I must have caused.
Resting an arm on the edge of the pool, Ben brushes a rivulet of water off my cheek with a fingertip. “If we get caught tonight, I’m the one who stands to lose. Do you even care?”
“Oh, relax! It’s only a second-degree misdemeanor and there are no trespassing warnings. We can plead a misunderstanding and get off completely free. Unless you have a weapon, and then it’s a third-degree felony. How do you not know this off the top of your head?”
“How do you know all of this off the top of your head?”
I let him see my exaggerated eye roll and then reveal my little secret. “The owners are at the wedding. You remember that guy that looks like an older version of The Situation?”
I watch him as he picks through his memory. He totally has no clue. “And the woman with giant duck lips and a big head of blond curls?”
One big dimple appears as Ben gives me a crooked smile. “Yeah, I saw her.”
Of course he did. “Seriously? This is their house?”
“Yeah. And the twin boys hovering over the dessert table are theirs.”
Ben pauses. “Well, what if they come home right now? And what about silent security alarms? Have you never heard of those?”
“Trust me. Between the wife and kids asking about the late-night buffet and the husband chatting up every stripper there, they won’t be home anytime soon. And . . .” I let my finger graze over the solid curve of Ben’s shoulder and slide down to his chest to toy with his nipple, “. . . I heard the wife bitching to him about staying relatively sober because the security company is coming at nine a.m. to fix the security system around the pool.” I give him a smug smile. “Because it’s not working.”
Realization sweeps over his face. “Huh . . . So there’s no real risk of getting caught for this, is that what you’re telling me?”
“Basically.”
His chest rises and falls with relief and then he presses farther into me, his nose skimming my cheek playfully. “Well, this changes things.”
“So . . . the water’s really warm, right? Better than the cold ocean?” I tease.
He chuckles, his naturally loud voice crackling with the strain of trying to keep quiet. “Yes, otherwise we’d have a real problem here.” And by the feel of Ben against my stomach, we certainly don’t now. The next thing I know, Ben’s hands are diving under the water to wrap around the backs of my thighs. Lifting me, he guides my legs around his hips and then steps in to secure our position against the pool wall. With a free hand, he reaches up to grasp the nipple piercing, sending a current of excitement through me. “Have I already told you how glad I am that you kept this in? You’re not allowed to take it out.”
“Jack doesn’t know about it, so I figured it’s okay.”
Ben’s head falls into the crook of my neck with a grunt. “Can we not talk about the guy who will fire my ass if he ever finds out about this?”
“Deal,” I agree as a hand curls behind my neck and his lips find my collarbone. I lay my head back against the edge of the pool, my breathing now coming in short, ragged drags. It’s been so long since I felt like this.
“While we’re talking about hidden piercings . . .” As if afraid to lose the opportunity again, Ben wastes no time sliding a hand down my chest, my stomach, and down farther. A tiny gasp escapes me as he begins searching me inside and out.
Another way in which Ben appears to be supremely skilled.
“Are you disappointed? I chickened out,” I admit, struggling to sound unaffected.
The hand that nestles my neck forces my head up to face a set of sparkling blue eyes. “Nothing here is a disappointment, Reese.” Wedging his free hand between the small of my back and the pool wall, he crushes me with his body and a mind-numbing kiss that ends all thought process.
Except one. “Did you bring a condom?” I whisper against him, wondering how well they work in pools and knowing that he needs to get something on himself very soon.
He chuckles as I feel his arousal jump to attention against me. “Do you think I go anywhere without a—”
His words are cut off as a blinding floodlight suddenly shines down on us from the house. We turn in unison to find an old lady standing by the sliding glass door, her frail little body clad in a pink robe, her hair set in curlers, bifocals sitting on her nose, and a rifle pointed at us.
“Ah, shit,” Ben mutters. “I take it Granny wasn’t invited to the wedding?”
“Stay still!” she yells in a reedy voice, squinting at us. Her hands are trembling. From fear, or anger, or old age, I’m not sure. But I’ll admit that I’m more than a little concerned that one of us is going to end up with an accidental gunshot wound because of it.
“Just let us get dressed and we’ll be gone in a minute,” Ben offers, but she’s apparently having none of that, her head already shaking side to side.
“Why you young folk think it’s okay to fornicate in the pool my grandkids swim in . . .” She works her bottom lip as though maybe her teeth aren’t firmly in place. “The police are on their way!”
Ben’s forehead falls against mine with a quiet curse.