Page 21 of Stick Work

My God, she’s so fucking gorgeous.

“Yeah,” I manage, my voice a little strained as I try to dispel the image her words conjure. “Let me grab some towels.” I duck into the bathroom, needing the reprieve for just a second, and when I come back, she’s checking something on her phone, her brows knitting together.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

She frowns. “I sent Kalen a message a while ago to see how things are going with Sahara, but I haven’t heard back from him.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I suggest, leaning against the doorframe.

She nods, her frown softening into a small smile. “I think they make a cute couple.”

“They are. Sahara’s good for him. He’s way less grumpy lately.”

“And he’s paying less attention to me, which is definitely a good thing,” she says with a grin, making her way to the door. I follow her down the stairs, the sound of our steps echoing in the house.

“Wait,” I say, glancing at her with a smirk. “Have you been trying to get them together just to get him off your back?”

She stops at the bottom step, placing a hand on her chest and feigning innocence. “Who, me?”

“Yeah, you,” I laugh, placing my hand lightly on the small of her back. My dick twitches and I work to ignore it as I steer her toward the hall.

She grins, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Okay, maybe just a little. But come on, you see how good they are together. I bet Sahara’s thrilled he changed his plans to join her.”

The sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen echoes faintly through the hall as we make our way toward the back patio. Taylor pauses, a little crease of guilt forming between her brows. “I feel bad for not helping with cleanup.”

Of course, she does. That’s Taylor—always sweet, especially with my family. Although back home, she’d happily hand her clean-up nights over to me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “We’ll tackle all the Thanksgiving dishes.”

She nods, liking that idea as I open the patio door and flick on the pool lights. A soft glow washes over the water, and Taylor gasps, stepping closer.

“So pretty,” she murmurs, taking in a deep breath. “It’s like our own little oasis.”

“It’s heated,” I tell her, watching as she moves to the edge of the pool and dips a toe in.

She pulls back quickly, frowning. “It feels cold.”

“It is if you do that,” I say, already moving.

“What am I supposed to?—”

Before she can finish, I run and leap, tucking my legs up for a cannonball. The water explodes around me, and when I surface, Taylor is standing there, drenched, her mouth open in a perfect O of indignation.

“Elias!” she yells, her voice full of outrage. “That was so mean.”

“It’s the only way to get in,” I say, laughing as I shake the water from my hair.

“I’m not doing a cannonball,” she huffs, crossing her arms as she glares at me.

I gesture toward the stairs with a nod. “Suit yourself. But it’s a lot harder to get in inch by inch.”

Jesus Christ, what did I just say?

Taylor’s eyes narrow, her lips twitching as if she’s fighting a grin. “Maybe I prefer inch by inch,” she says, her voice low and teasing.

Jesus, what did she just say?

With my gaze locked on her, I watch the way her hips sway as she walks to the stairs. I follow her, swimming lazily closer. She dips her toes into the first step and winces.

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