Page 41 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends
I shake my head. “It’s one Iwill.”
She hesitates. I hate that. I can see her wanting to believe me. So I reach for her face. Cup her cheek. Thumb brushing over her skin.
“Let me show you,” I say.
Then I kiss her.
She’s stiff at first. Guarded. But then—slowly, gently—she melts into me. Her arms wind around my neck. Her mouth softens. And when I pull her closer, she lets me. I hold her like I’m trying to memorize the shape of her, the weight, the sound of her breath. Like I can keep this moment for when she pulls away again.
But she doesn’t. Not yet. We break apart a minute later. Her forehead presses to mine. We’re both breathing a little harder.
Then she lets out a breath and says, “I miss swimming.”
I blink. “What?”
She pulls back, a sweet smile on her perfect lips. “It’s stupid. I just…I didn’t know there’d be a lake. I would’ve brought a suit.”
“You don’t need one.”
She arches a brow. I smirk. Step back. Grab the hem of my shirt and pull it off in one motion. Her eyes widen. Then I unbutton my jeans and drop them too.
“What are you?—”
Before she can finish, I dive off the end of the dock.
The water is cold as hell. I break the surface with a gasp and turn to face her, treading water. The sun’s just starting to rise, casting gold across the water. She’s standing there, dumbfounded.
“You coming in?” I call.
She laughs. “You’reinsane.”
“Maybe. But I feel amazing.”
She crosses her arms. “You’re naked.”
“Yup.”
She bites her lip.
“Parker.”
She looks at me.
“Come swim with me.”Come play with me.
She hesitates. Then reaches for the hem of her hoodie.
I grin.
She pulls her hoodie over her head slowly, the morning air catching on the bare skin of her stomach as her shirt lifts with it. Her tank top goes next, tossed onto the dock in a quiet flutter. She hesitates at the waistband of her leggings.
I tread water and wait, doing my best not to push. Not to rush. This is her choice. Every part of this—her decision. She steps out of her leggings and underwear in one smooth motion, arms folded tight across her chest as she tiptoes to the edge of the dock. Her breath curls in the air. Goose bumps rise on her skin.
“Are you sure this isn’t hypothermia waiting to happen?” she calls.
“Only if you wait any longer to get in,” I say, grinning.
She huffs. “This is so dumb.”
