A Flighty Fake Boyfriend (Men of St. Nachos #2) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,26
with the valet and went to our room to shower off and change. I wore board shorts. Epic returned from the bathroom in a microscopically small Speedo with a pair of swim goggles around his neck.
Smooth as silk, I fished my tongue out of my throat and stood up as though I was ready for this. “They’ll have towels poolside.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He took the towel he’d slung over his shoulder and flung it onto the bed.
As I watched him walk across our suite, I fought the urge to grab my fluffy hotel robe.
I’m not a vain man, never have been. I run, but that’s pretty much it. Biking today had cost me the use of my ass and legs, and honestly, I didn’t expect to do much in the pool besides float. I’d planned to take a healing dip in the hot tub as well as maybe grab a sauna—most of which were definitely medicinal.
Now, before me walked my young Adonis. Nearly my height but leaner with a cut swimmer’s body he hid beautifully beneath his clothes. He didn’t swagger, but he didn’t have to. His body was…breathtaking. Honed.
I’d noticed his broad shoulders and lean hips, but now I could see each muscle was defined down to six-pack abs and a V-cut. His body didn’t come from a gym but was the product of a lifetime of activity.
Before I even took off my flip-flops, Epic dove in, cutting through the water like a knife. He swam to the other end of the pool underwater, surfaced, and swam back to hang on the pool’s edge.
He raked water from his hair. “The temperature is perfect.”
I slid in beside him and decided it was cold. Keeping a smile on my face occupied the next few seconds of my life until I could breathe again.
“Want to race?” he asked.
“Not a chance.” I wished I had thought to bring Epic’s floaty. Instead, I pushed off the side with my feet and backstroked around like a lost turtle while Epic did a few more laps.
A few minutes later, he punched through the water by my side and slipped his goggles to the top of his head.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Competitive swimmer?”
“Kind of,” he hedged. “Not in college. What about you? What’s your sport?”
As if everyone had one. “Track and field in high school.”
“You still run?”
“Yes, but if you ask me if I want to do that this weekend, the answer’s no.” No way would I embarrass myself like that. “My pace is probably slower than you’re used to.
He splashed me. “I like a man who paces himself so he can go the distance.”
Despite the cool pool, his words had a pretty predictable effect on my dick. I sank and swallowed a lot of water. That was the exact—and weirdly metaphorical—moment I found myself in deep with Epic Alsop.
So deep, in fact, that Epic towed me to the shallow end.
“You okay there?” His grin wasn’t just cheeky, it was positively evil.
“Yeah,” I sputtered. “Just got…a little something…”
“Not so little, even though it’s cold.” He snorted and took off.
Jesus. I got out and retrieved towels for both of us, then slid onto one of the loungers to dry. The sun warmed my skin, and the fragrance of plumeria, ginger lily, and climbing ylang ylang filled the air. I’d drifted into that perfect tipping point where sleep seems inevitable when I felt someone sit beside me.
“Let’s get out of the sun.” Epic tugged on my hand.
I opened my eyes to find him looking down at me with a perfectly amiable, playful smile on his lips. Backlit, his shoulders sparkled with droplets of water. Slicked back, his hair gleamed glossy as a seal’s fur. He held out his hand.
I took it. “All right.”
He helped me up and didn’t let go on the long walk back to our suite. The usual worries didn’t plague me like I thought they would. Work was a thousand miles away along with the rest of the things that made this a bad idea.
Epic walked ahead of me, strong and certain, and I followed because wherever he was headed, wherever this was headed, I wanted it.
We got back to the room, and I waited while he slid his key into the reader. Inside, his foot landed on a parchment envelope.
I recognized the studied, spidery writing as Luis’s. My full name: Mr. Ryan Taylor Winthrop.
“What’s that?” Epic asked. “Looks like an invitation.”