Of course, she immediately whipped back around. But it was just too late. She had seen Tate Sullivan without any clothes on, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise. It was just an elbow and a foot, she told herself, while the image of his bare ass flashed up at the forefront of her mind a thousand times. In fact, it was still flashing up by the time she’d pulled the T-shirt on.
She closed her eyes and it was all she could see—the soap suds slowly trailing over those taut curves, making everything glossy and golden. The glimpse of the dark shape between his legs when he turned a little, heavy looking and as shocking as he had suggested, and most important, fucking private. She was intruding on his privacy in the grossest possible way—a realization that made her cheeks heat. Somehow she was the one who hadn’t behaved like a decent person, both in the swimming pool and here. She had touched him in inappropriate places and ogled his naked body when he assumed she wasn’t looking, and man, that hit her hard in the humiliation center.
Doing all of this was bad enough.
But doing it to Tate, of all people.
She didn’t find him gross at all, but she also didn’t find him attractive. So what was going on here? Was it just curiosity? Surely anyone would wonder about that thick, dark shape between his legs. And his butt was pretty spectacular. It was probably just natural to find yourself hypnotized by it.
Everything was fine here.
Apart from how high she jumped when he suddenly spoke too close to her ear.
“You sure you don’t want to go in?”
“Oh. Yeah. No. Cool. No. No.”
She let out a little laugh.
A really, really unconvincing little laugh.
“Water’s super warm. My shower gel is moisturizing.”
“No, honestly, I just…I think I…just want to go,” she said, thinking mostly of the safe, fully clothed haven of her dorm. Or at the very least, her mind was on avoiding the sight of him tugging on his clothes.
It didn’t even occur to her how she would get there, until he offered to carry her.
Then she remembered her shoes at the bottom of the pool, and briefly flailed out of control.
“No, god, no,” she barked out, so loud he jerked back. He stopped straightening the T-shirt he’d put on, a million explanations for something he hadn’t done on his lips.
She had to cut in quick, before the whole thing turned into a disaster.
“I just meant that we probably don’t want everyone seeing you swoop me out of here in your clothes, after we took a swim together. You know? People will definitely talk then.”
“Oh, I got you, right. That makes sense.” He laughed, but it was an awkward one. And he was blushing, too; god, why was he blushing? “Because for a second there I thought you were afraid, or like creeped out.”
“No, no, not creeped out. Just thinking of your reputation.”
“Hey, I care more about your bare feet than my reputation. Just let me help you out here, okay? If it makes more sense I can just give you a piggyback. What do you think?”
“I guess a piggyback might be better.”
“It totally will. No one can say anything about that.”
He knelt down in front of her, back turned for her to climb up.
Completely innocently, she knew, but being innocent didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Things had gotten weird, and they were only getting weirder.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, but she had no answer for him.
Saying the image of your cock to fade seemed like a real mistake, in light of of the touching she had done. And lying was out of the question—at that moment, she could barely remember her own name.
Her only real option was just climbing aboard, but when she did everything got so much more intense.
He lifted her like she was made of paper, so high and so fast it stole her breath. It made her dizzy—as did everything else about this innocent, friendly piggyback ride. His back seemed super tight to her chest, those big shoulder blades shifting and sliding right where she least wanted them to. And the grip he had on her thighs…it was way too firm. She would probably have bruises tomorrow.
Beautiful bruises, her mind supplied.
Before she quickly changed the subject in her head. It was a little easier to do that now, after all. There were at least ten other things to pay attention to once they were outside. The grounds were so dark and quiet, as though they’d been in there for hours and hours. And when she asked, it turned out they had. It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to their journey.
As did his silence.
He was always talking—she realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air for all the physical trouble she seemed to cause him.
But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When she tilted her head a little, she could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easygoing. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way she did.
Until now.
“Tate, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”