Page 50 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

I open my eyes to realize he’s right. Not thatI’mdoing much of anything. But Joey is paddling us around, and I’m along for the ride like some sort of barnacle. A barnacle that’s essentially lying on top of him.

“You’re my own personal Joey-float,” I say with a huff of laughter. “And I didn’t even have to blow you.” A second passes—the quietest second in existence—before I hastily add, “Up.I didn’t have to blow you up.”

He chuckles, his eyes practically sparkling as he swims around the deep end of the pool. “Nope. I’m all prepped and ready to go.”

I squint at him. “Was that an anal joke?”

Joey sputters, the both of us sinking several inches in the water before he recovers, at which point I’m certain I’ve alreadydied. “We’re good,” he says, his palm settling at the back of my head.

“Both hands in the water,” I eke out.

He obliges, letting go and paddling with two arms again. Once I can breathe, I realize my face is pressed up against Joey’s chest. He has surprisingly little hair, and I idly wonder if that’s natural or if he shaves.

Comfortable enough, I stay put. Joey is warm, even though the water is cool.

“Want to try floating on your own?” he asks.

“No.”

“Okay… How about kicking your feet?”

“I’m good.”

He huffs a laugh, the motion making his chest rise. His pecs are on the larger side, I notice. It’s not even that I haven’t seen them before, but it’s certainly the first time I’ve had an up-close and personal view of one.

I’ve always loved tits. I love lying on them, all soft and squishy, like pillows. Love tracing their curves with my fingers or tongue. Love sucking on them, even.

Andholy mother of God, I amnotimagining sucking Joey’s pec.

Fucking—

“Brad,” Joey says in alarm as I unintentionally flail away from him. He grabs hold of me before I can sink, and I’m back to clinging, my legs around his waist, my pulse trying to convince me I’m having a heart attack. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I breathe, so not fine.

Joey keeps one arm around me as he paddles toward the edge of the pool. He grabs on, keeping us stable as I catch my breath.

I’m suddenly acutely aware of the fact that my crotch is pressed against Joey’s. That I’m wrapped around him almostintimately. That he’s a gay man who, once upon a time, thought we were going on a date.

I don’t know what he sees on my face—have no clue what emotions I’m broadcasting—but Joey’s eyes dip down, to my mouth maybe? And then he twists in a way that forces distance between us.

“Here,” he says, guiding me to grab on to the edge of the pool.

I do, transferring my weight, watching Joey’s expression. What was that emotion just then?

“You boys okay?” Sonia calls.

I shoot her a quick thumbs-up. “Yep. Just fine. I’m not a very good swimmer,” I admit.

Sonia smiles softly. “That’s okay. It took my kids a long time to be comfortable enough to even try. You’re doing great.”

I give her an appreciative nod before resting my chest against the smooth tiles lining the pool, my arms on the sun-warmed concrete above. Joey is quiet next to me, and I glance at his profile, wondering why I never noticed how well-defined his pecs are. Not that it’s a surprise. He’s a fit dude.

Fit yet soft.

“You like challah?” I ask him.

His brow furrows as he looks my way. “Sure?”

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