Page 70 of Stolen Summer

My laughter still rang out when he emerged looking like a damn male siren, tan skin glistening with waterdrops and muscles on display. I swallowed, no longer making a sound.

Leaning against the pool’s edge, I closed my mouth before I started drooling and cleared my throat. “I thought you needed to cool off.”

He shook his head, water spraying over me.

I couldn’t stop the silly grin on my lips. “You fell for the oldest trick.”

“Or did I?” He arched a brow, swimming closer. “Perhaps it had been my plan all along to get in the pool with you,” he suggested, his arms boxing me in as his hands gripped the edge of the pool.

Why did pools make everything sexier? Something about being wet with another person turned things up. “Dumb plan.”

“It worked. I know you better than you think, Quinn.”

He’d been like this all week. Just when I started to think I understood him, he threw me for a loop. I decided to give up trying. He was like no one I’d ever met, and I wondered if perhaps he was on meds. It wasn’t my business as long as he kept his promise and I didn’t die because of Crew’s shit. “Oh, you think? How many tattoos do I have? You’ve seen me naked, but how close do you pay attention.”

“You were naked,” he stated obviously. “I wasn’t paying attention to anything except finding a girl naked in my pool.”

My lips twitched at the memory. “I have three.”

Intrigue crossed over his features. “Where? Show me?”

“You’ll just have to search for them yourself. What about you? How many do you have?” I inquired, feeling a bit flirty. Who am I?

His feet could easily touch the ground at this part of the pool. “Too many. Do you want to count?”

I clung to the side, my eyes on him. “Not particularly. I’d rather keep my hands off you.”

“What fun is that?”

“The safe kind,” I retorted. “Okay, fine. How about this one?” I traced the ink marked into his shoulder, trailing down his entire arm. It even extended to his hand and fingers—a tangle of branches that spread out almost like lightning.

The water moved him closer. At least, I thought it was the water. “I hate to break it to you, Quinn, but it doesn’t have any great meaning.”

Now that I paid attention, none of his tattoos had any color, and it suited him. The dark ink usually matched his personality but not today. Today he was full of color, life, and dangerously playful. I took inventory. There were so many, but a few that stuck out to me were the rose on the back of his hand, the feather below his ribs, the butterfly at the center of his chest, and the numerous ones on his fingers. They were a part of him. “So, you’re just one of those pain junkies.”

“There are worse things to be addicted to,” he replied, dropping his tone.

My nose wrinkled. “Worst pickup line ever.”

His chuckle was rough, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I’m starting to think it’s not my lines but you. You’re not normal.”

“I could have told you that.” My fingers splayed over his golden chest. “Your father doesn’t have a problem with the ink?”

“I never said that.”

I’d told myself I wouldn’t touch him, and here I was with my nails tracing down his ribs. There were tattoos all over him, but my fingers no longer followed the ink and now roamed freely. I tipped my head back deliberately, my lips begging him to kiss me. Did I want him to kiss me? It was pointless to deny I enjoyed having his mouth on mine.

His lips cruised along my chin, slowly moving over my jaw up to the spot behind my ear that had me moaning and leaning into him. His fingers wandered over my back, toying with the strings of my bikini top. I felt the tie loosen, the knot breaking free. It wasn’t the first time I’d been topless in this pool with Cole. Probably wouldn’t be the last either the way things heated between us. The material fell away from my body as the water rippled over my breasts, my pebbled nipples brushing against Cole’s chest.

He tossed it aside, and I heard my top hit the water somewhere in the pool. “Payback, Quinn,” he murmured in my ear, his lips curling against my lobe right before he shoved away from me, leaving me topless at the edge while he treaded feet away from me with a shithead grin.

I frowned. “Asshole,” I muttered lightheartedly, splashing water in his face, which only had his smile brightening.

Forgoing the thin top, I turned and hoisted out of the pool, and dripping wet, sloshed to retrieve the towel I’d left under my chair. Of course, I ran into a snag. The striped beach towel I’d brought outside wasn’t where I’d left it. “Damn it, Cole,” I said under my breath, whirling with my arms crossed. “This isn’t funny—” The protest ended on a gasp.

Spread out at arm’s length in front of me was the towel I’d been seeking, but it wasn’t Cole holding it.

“Looking for this?” a man with a deep voice asked. He lifted his dark brow that had a scar running through it.