When she first moved in, she'd never sit right beside me like this. But now, she's close enough to kiss. I could lean into her and finally feel those lips between mine. Taste them, breathe them in. My gut's telling me to hold off. I need to get her alone, first. She wouldn't kiss me with everyone watching.
A loud shriek of laughter brings our sights forward, to where Damien is holding a writhing Ava over the edge of the pool. Beside me, Julia sits back and we fall into silence. A comfortable silence that takes me by surprise.
I take another swig of my beer and realize that maybe it's my own inhibitions that are lowered, when I say, "These past few weeks..." I hesitate, but it's too late to redirect the statement now. "It's been fun, believe it or not. It's helped keep a lot off my mind."
"What are you trying to keep off of your mind?"
I shake my head then bring the bottle of beer up as I point to the side of my temple. It's the only way I know how to say it.
Too much shit.
"I can relate," she says and I'm grateful she doesn't ask me to elaborate. I wouldn't know how. "There's a lot I've been trying not to think about, too."
A few more seconds pass, filled with the sounds of splashing water, playful yelling, and laughter.
"Is this us getting along?" I ask.
She laughs and holds up her drink. "We should drink together more often."
I nod to the pool. "I'm guessing you don't want to swim."
"No. I forgot my swimsuit, and before you say what I know you'll say, none of these girls have a top that'll fit me."
I chuckle, taking the opportunity to eye her figure as though she gave me permission. The image of her naked, with water droplets dotting her smooth skin is impossible to get out of my head.
She has no idea where my mind is because her tone is innocent and unassuming when she asks, "Did you see they have a game room? I saw a pool table in there. Wanna play?"
"Absolutely," I say. "Let's go play."
Chapter Eighteen
Julia
THE GAME ROOM IS ON the second floor, one level down from the rooftop deck. It's a spacious room with a modern feel to it. The high ceiling is the same color as the green of the pool table, and it seems to glow in the recess lighting dotting every few feet of its surface. The large windows ahead frame nighttime views of the yacht club harbor. And beyond that, the glittering shapes of the downtown buildings are visible in the distance.
I take in the details of my surroundings in silence as Giles sets up the pool table. The only sounds in the room are the distant noises of the pool party happening above us. There are some people inside the house as well, their footsteps sounding from down the hall. Somewhere nearby a door closes, but the one to this room remains open.
I walk over to the rack of cue sticks and grab one, testing it out in my hand. It's been a while since I've played pool. After grabbing a second stick, I turn to hand it to Giles and the sight of him sitting on the edge of the pool table, watching me, catches me off guard.
He's still shirtless, wearing a pair of red swim trunks that fit him too well. I'm used to seeing him this way. He's always shirtless around the house. I've pretty much memorized every inch of his upper body. It's hard not to, when he's all compact and lean muscles under smooth skin.
I know he can't see himself. I know he didn't plan for the room's lighting to hit him in just the right way, casting shadows in the hollows of his shoulders, biceps, and abs, accentuating his build. He's set in a spotlight of sorts, which allows glints of the copper tones in his hair to make his green eyes glow as if they're lit from within.
Damn it.
I stare for too long, but he pretends not to notice and reaches for the second cue stick in my hand.
"Ladies first." He gestures to the table behind him.
I pass him and, reaching the pool table, I rest my forearms on the edge of it. With careful aim, I lunge my cue stick forward and send the cue ball crashing through, balls scurrying in all directions, three finding their pockets.
"Impressive," he says, from somewhere behind me, though I could've sworn he was off to my left just seconds earlier. "You landed two solids. Looks like I'm stripes."
I move around to find my next target and as I lean forward to make a strike, a hand lays on the table, centimeters from my waist. The surprise makes me miss my shot, and though I hit the cue ball, it jerks forward only an inch or two.
My skin prickles with awareness as I turn to face Giles. He's standing right there, face barely six inches from mine. So close I swear he's about to kiss me. And I'm not sure if I'd stop him.
"Can I tell you something without you getting offended?" he asks, voice just loud enough to reach me.
I don't understand how he could say anything that could offend me when he's standing so close with that look in his eyes. But I swallow, and say, "Yeah."
His gaze moves down my face, to the space between us, to my body, and I hope he doesn't notice I'm breathing just a little harder than before.
"You have the most beautiful body I've ever seen."
He looks and sounds so genuine that I couldn't make a joke if I wanted to. Lost for words, I bring my lower lip in between my teeth. And now he's looking right at my mouth.
My head spins. The air is just so thick all of a sudden and my thoughts are too fast and too slow at the same time.
"Thanks," I say, looking down at the way his arm stretches out beside me, his grip closing over the edge of the table. If he set his other arm the same way, I'd be trapped between them.
And I realize I'd like that, a lot.
But he doesn't cage me in. Instead, he brings his hand up to my face and runs a finger over the edge of my forehead, collecting my hair and tucking it behind my ear. He's never touched me before. His fingertips grazing my face make my heartbeat go off rhythm.
"I came here for a reason," he says under his breath, almost to himself, "and now I can't remember what that reason was."
I feel the same way. My cue stick is still in my hand, the only reminder we came here to play pool, but suddenly the thought of that game isn't as enticing as standing here so close to him. His hand lowers from my face to my arm, caressing my skin along the way, triggering trickles of sensations that spread across me. His touch is foreign and yet strangely familiar, as though my body has imagined this moment even while my mind has refused to consider it.
"I get the weird feeling you're hiding your body," he says. "That you don't feel comfortable in your skin but..."
"But what?"
He shakes his head. "But I've seen your body, Julia. And I swear, I can't stop thinking about how it'd feel under mine."
Oh my God.
Did he just say that? The room warms ten degrees in an instant.
"Giles..." I trail off, unsure of what I want to say.
Stop talking. Keep going. Touch me.
My thoughts are turning me in a dozen directions, making it hard for me to know for sure what to say, what to do. My eyes are on his lips, despite not wanting him to spy just how badly his touch and proximity affect me.
"I keep wondering if the curiosity is mutual," he says, hopeful.