Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,77

problem. Personally, I think high school diplomas are overrated. I mean, you got one and look where you are.”

His jaw tightens, a tight ball of muscle ticking at the back. It was a low blow. But when he turns to walk away, I feel enough of a sense of victory that I begin lifting myself out of the pool. However, before I even hoist myself on the edge, he’s turned back around, grabbing at the hem of his shirt.

“You know what?” he says, yanking the shirt over his head to reveal his incredible body. “Fuck it. I’ll teach you myself.”

He jumps in, making the water slosh over my torso. “What? No.”

“Obviously, you need the help of a professional.” His hand runs through his wet hair, pushing it out of his eyes. It’s two shades darker wet, and the rivulets run distractingly down his neck and chest. I get a good look at the tone of his muscles as he approaches me.

“You’re not a professional, Wilcox. You’re an ex-high school swimmer on probation.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “You think if you piss me off, I’ll end the class and let you off the hook just to get you out of my face.” He gives me that same wicked grin as before, making my insides twist and turn. “Never bullshit a bullshitter. Shut up and watch me.”

Everyone else has left and there’s nothing but the sound of the sloshing water and the two of us. One minute he’s standing and the next he’s on his back, gliding gracefully through the water. Sometimes he uses his arms to propel him back, other times just his legs. He cuts clean through the water like a fish, making it look easy.

Easy and painfully sexy.

“Your turn,” he says, rising back out of the water. “Get on your back.”

It’s a battle to tear my eyes away from the sight of his wet chest, but I do. “I never get tired of hearing guys tell me that,” I mutter, still surly.

“Stop stalling.” His hand sweeps under the water and lands on my lower back, sending a shiver up my spine. I glance away, afraid to look at his face, but this is Heston. He doesn’t let me shut him out. He brushes forward to whisper velvet-soft into my ear, “And I thought we’d already established that I prefer you on your front, Little Red.”

I duck my body under water just to cool it off.

When I come back up for air, he’s watching me, eyes calculating. “What’s freaking you out so much about this?” he asks, resting his hands on my shoulders. His voice echoes loudly, a little too harsh in the soft silence of the natatorium, but his eyes hold only determination and curiosity.

Thinking, I try to explain, “I can’t hear anything with the water in my ears, and I can’t see anything except the ceiling. It’s all…claustrophobic or something. Disorienting?” He’s eased me halfway back in the process of my stilted explanation, his knee prodding into the base of my spine. “I-I just don’t like it.”

“Take a deep breath and relax,” he says. I try, feeling the water against the back of my head. He braces my neck with one hand, and as much as I hate to admit it, I feel safe like this—near him, beneath him, being cradled by him. It’s only because, despite everything, Heston is an excellent swimmer. Plus, he’s already saved me from this pool once. I doubt he’d let me drown. His probation officer probably wouldn’t look too kindly on that.

Looking up at his face, I’m momentarily struck by his angles. Even from below, he’s absurdly good looking, all chiseled jaw and smooth, toned chest. His other hand skims under my back, barely touching me. Heston’s hands have gripped me, crushed me, dug bruises into my flesh. But this touch is almost alarming in its gentleness, as if something is suddenly very wrong.

No, not wrong.

Just new and jarringly unexpected.

A current races through me like a lightning strike at the feel, the way my body wants to arch into his hand, seeking more and more. I bolt upright, placing my feet on the ground.

Heston grunts as he catches me. “Seriously? You were almost there. You have got to chill the fuck out, woman.”

I move away, putting some distance between us, trying to find some clarity in the sudden, thick fog of want that’s throbbing in my veins. “I think you should just fail me on this section.”

“No