Page 60 of Time Out

I definitely should not have taken the second to peek outside. The lamp was on next to my bed, but the curtains were open, giving me a gorgeous view of the city lit up at night.

And Davis. Standing at the edge of his pool by the hot tub, body turned to me in profile so I could see every inch of him. It was also the exact moment Davis, in all his bared upper body form, was stripping out of shorts. There he was—bare freaking naked.

Over the last two months, I’d gone to bed at night, remembering Davis’s body. Remembering the strength in his muscles and the ridges on his abs and those arms… the curve of his biceps and the bulge of his triceps when he moved. I’d convinced myself I was exaggerating his perfection.

If anything, based on the way he stepped over the ledge, hand cupping himself for a mere smidgeon of privacy, my memory was operating at under capacity.

I had drastically undersold the way he looked in real life.

The pulse at the tops of my thighs from the feel of his shirt on mine grew heavier, deeper, and my mouth went dry as I watched him sink into the hot tub, throw his hands to the edge and rest the back of his head at the ledge, eyes closed and face tilted to the sky.

Oh, how I wanted to know what he was thinking.

More, the tiredness I’d been fighting turned into an altogether type of need.

Two choices. Climb into bed, ease the ache being around Davis for so many days had created.

Or take a gamble. Throw caution to the wind.

Gambling might have been a sin where I came from, but I’d been rolling the dice since getting in my car in Missouri and plugging Nashville into my GPS. So far, when it came to Davis, I hadn’t lost a hand.

Not only was he kind and oh-so perfect and thoughtful and funny and patient and sexy as hell.

He was the only man I’d been thinking of for the last two months.

The only man I could ever see myself with again because after him, no way could anyone else compare.

So I took the risk, and I walked down the dark hallway toward the living room that was darkened by the glow of the lamps next to the couch and a light on in the kitchen, but the brightness of the overhead lights were turned off, and the television was dark.

If he opened his eyes, he’d see me hesitantly stepping toward the sliding door, but due to the lights on inside, I could no longer see him.

Was he thinking of me? Replaying his game? Was he soaking sore muscles he’d tried—and failed—all night to hide? Or was he thinking of Reese? His family he didn’t get to see?

I had to know.

The door unlatched, the soft click a bomb compared to the silence and the racing of my heart, and as I stepped out onto the patio, letting the door slide shut behind me, Davis hadn’t moved an inch from where I’d seen him in my bedroom.

It wasn’t until I was halfway to him that he turned his head in my direction, and the gentle lines of his face gave way to furrowed brows and a hardened jaw.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I didn’t feel tired anymore and saw you out here.”

One brow lifted in interest, and that throb at the tops of my thighs returned. “You saw me?”

My teeth found my bottom lip as I nodded. If he needed to hear everything I saw, the perfection of all that was him, I’d share, but based on the way I fidgeted on my feet, he knew.

I was learning I didn’t hide much from him, and though I was taking this game, I didn’t have much of a poker face.

He sat up straighter in the hot tub, hair swept to the side and though it was dark, there was no missing the desire heating his eyes. “If you’re not tired, then what are you feeling, Maggie?”

He was going to make me say it, but the words wouldn’t form and my throat thickened with nerves, so instead of telling him.

I showed him.

I took several steps closer, his eyes raking down my skin, my legs, and back up to the swell of my breasts barely concealed by his overly large shirt.

And then I removed the shirt.

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