Page 53 of Overexposed

“It’s an article of clothing,” he countered, practically daring me to argue.

“It’s an accessory, but fine,” I said, chuckling. “Make me work for it. Blue in the corner.”

“You want me naked, Snow, just say the word.” He managed to deliver that smoking line just as I made the bounce shot and sent the blue ball into its corner. “Nerves of steel. I like that about you.”

This time, he didn’t wait for me to look at him; he just unzipped his pants and stripped them off before folding them and laying them to the side. He sported a very nice pair of silk boxers.

At least, I thought they might be silk. They could have been cotton. The back of them was hunter green, but nothing could prepare me for when he turned around. I damn near choked on the last of my wine.

His grin was even wider.

“Why are you wearing elephant boxer shorts?” Because there was no mistaking what the elephant’s trunk was supposed to be—and yes it did make me wonder if he was also erect and filling it out fully.

“I like truth in my advertising. Heard someone say once ‘if you're hung like a bull elephant, you should let people know.’”

Fuck.

The moisture in my mouth dried up and I forgot how to breathe.

“You really want to know right now,” he said, unabashed and open with his smirk. “Don’t you?”

“With a lead up like that? Oh yeah.” I gave him a once-over. He had his shirt, possibly an undershirt, and then the boxers. I flicked a look back at the table. “Three balls…I got this.”

“You could,” he murmured, and I made myself tune him out. Because I wasn’t sure what was coming out of his mouth next, even if I was utterly enjoying the whole experience.

“Red, side pocket,” I said, then made the shot and didn’t look at him as I circled the table. With the cue stick, I gestured to another ball and another corner pocket, I sank it. That was two.

The rustle of fabric made me look as he stripped off the shirt and bared that very chiseled chest. Maybe not as spritzed with oil to make it sheen and ripped as he would be for a movie, but the man really had nothing to worry about. The natural beauty in his body was probably the thing sculptors like Michaelangelo sought to replicate with all that work in marble.

Fuck, it was making my fingers itch for my camera and not for pap shots. I’d bet my left nipple that I could get the most artistic shots out of him. The desire to test that theory waged a heavy battle against continuing this tug-of-war we were playing.

Because with the pool games at one to one, he would be naked and I wouldn’t be skinny-dipping—yet.

“One more ball, Snow.” It was a couple more to win the game, but I couldn’t really argue. I wanted those elephant boxers off because I would never in a million years have expected something quite soabsurdto be such a goddamn turn-on.

Dragging my gaze off him and back to the table, I pursed my lips. My shot options were limited. Still…no risk no reward. I gestured for the ball I wanted and then nodded to the pocket in the corner closest to me. It would need a hell of a bank shot.

The world bled away from me as I narrowed everything down to the shot I needed to make. I pictured where I had to strike it with the cue so it hit the bumper and rebounded perfectly.

Physics.

It was all physics.

The snap of the cue forward took all my desire with it, and the ball dropped into the pocket just like I’d pictured it. Satisfaction unfurled. Yes, I had a couple more balls to go, but frankly, I’d won as far as I was concerned.

Chuckling, Ollie reached for his shorts to strip them off, but just as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, an alarm ripped through the house. I jerked at the sudden volume of what sounded like a cross between a klaxon on some sci-fi show and the most annoying siren on the road.

“Fuck,” Ollie swore as he strode toward a wall console—boxers in place. Yes, I looked. Sue me. I followed, even as I pressed my hands over my ears. Holy shit it was loud. At the panel, Ollie punched a couple of buttons and the screens lit up with images from the exterior. My car was on one. The gate was on another. Then it flickered and there was a garage, a side garden, and?—

“There,” I said because something blurry was moving. It was almost too pink to stay hidden in the dark, and when Ollie tapped the screen to make it larger, I did a double take.

It was a woman.

A verynudewoman racing across the grass from their east wall. Her breasts and her thighs had about the same amount of jiggle. I had to give her props though—she didn’t slow her speedeven when she crossed the white pebbled pathway in her bare feet.

The alarm cut off abruptly as Ollie pivoted to head back over to his pants. I split my attention between the woman on the screen and what he was doing.

“Sorry, Snow. I just need to call the security company. They always have someone in the area. They can come and deal with her.” He had pulled his phone out of his pocket.

---