The Pool Boy - Nikki Sloane Page 0,17

then flung my pleasure out through my limbs, making me shake and flinch with each wave. I cried out, and it was the signal he needed, because then he was the one with the swelling moans and the loud groan as he came undone.

The movement of his hips was jerky and erratic. His hands clamped down over the tip of his dick, trapping his release, but it meant the rest of him was uncovered, and I watched in fascination as the rhythmic pulses throbbed through the length of him.

My hand dropped away from the center of my legs, my body still tingling from the bliss, and when I straightened away from the shelf, it creaked quietly. It took me longer to catch my breath than for him, but Troy remained like a statue with his hands cupped over himself.

I nearly smiled. Was he . . . trying to be polite? Worried about dripping semen on my unfinished floor?

“That was insane,” he said abruptly.

My amusement died as a chill descended on me. Or perhaps it was reality. What we’d just done was insane, and guilt filled every cell in my body. He was Jenna’s son, for Chrissake. I shifted my gaze away. “Yeah.”

“I meant, insanely hot.”

Relief sparked, and my attention flew back to him. “Oh.”

His voice was rich, and his expression was stripped bare of bravado. It was honest and hopeful. “Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

He nodded as if he’d said the word “good” out loud, and then swung his gaze from me toward the open door to the bathroom.

I didn’t watch as he marched toward it and disappeared inside. Instead, I retrieved my swimsuit bottoms and yanked them on. The sound of water ran from the faucet in the bathroom while I grabbed my dress, and I tried not to think about why he was in there washing his hands.

With him out of sight, the sex dissipated from the room and cleared most of the fog from my mind.

Oh, God.

What had I done?

I tugged my dress on so quickly, threads ripped. It was just barely in place when the water stopped, and Troy emerged from the bathroom. Still naked and devastating, and it was even worse when he put his hands on his waist and shot me a mock disapproving look.

“You got dressed fast.”

It was odd how he was so confident without a stitch of clothing on, but then again, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, he was probably proud. Besides his sculpted body, his impressive erection had flagged some, but remained. Even though he’d reached satisfaction, his dick was broadcasting it was up for an encore.

Holy shit, I had to get out of this room.

The window of me maintaining my self-control was rapidly closing, and I could not sleep with him. He was a guy, and in my experience, it wasn’t hard to convince them to hop into bed. Every signal Troy had given me made me confident he’d say yes if I asked.

And while a huge part of me wanted a quick hookup, it wouldn’t be “no strings” with him. There were very big, very personal strings attached to Troy. Jenna would never forgive me, and my friendship with her was worth more than a night of meaningless sex. It was incredibly likely I’d already damaged it beyond repair.

Only if you tell her what you did.

My heart sank into my stomach. I was a terrible friend.

He’d commented that I’d gotten dressed quickly, and my tone was urgent. “I did. You should probably too, because . . .”

I tried to assemble the right phrasing in my head, but nothing sounded right, and as time dragged on, Troy’s posture began to stiffen.

“Because,” he said flatly, “this was a mistake.”

Hurt lurked in his eyes, but I only caught it for a moment because he bent, scooped up his shorts, and jammed a leg into them. I couldn’t hold his gaze as he finished pulling them on and did up his fly. My shame was too powerful.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” I said quietly, “but I shouldn’t have asked you to . . .” I took the cowardly way out and let him fill in the rest of the words I wasn’t saying. “I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

That couldn’t be true because I felt guilty as hell.

Silence hung awkwardly between us, growing more uncomfortable than the heat. He had his shorts on, but his t-shirt was still a heap on the floor,