Page 15 of About That One Night
My heart races as I peel off the last of my clothing, the cool night air kissing my skin. With each layer I shed, I feel a heady mix of anxiety and exhilaration. I’m really doing this.
I, Zoe Isabella Harper, am going skinny dipping in a pool atop a very swanky apartment building in the middle of the city. Who am I, and what have I done with the real Zoe?
“After this, I should get a month’s break from daring to do something different,” I say out loud, my voice echoing slightly across the rooftop. I clamp mymouth, wondering if anyone can hear me and will come to check what’s happening.
“Fat chance, Harper,” Max says, his back still turned to me. “We’re doing daring things . . . challenging our inner-different-new-personas.”
“That’s not a thing, Maximillian,” I retort, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see me.
“Well, I’m making it a thing, and you can’t take it away from me,” he responds, because obviously Maximillian McCallister only cares about his rules. The infuriating man manages to sound smug with his back turned.
“Then I’ll dare you to do something new,” I declare, trying to sound confident. Obviously, I have no idea what that’ll be, but I’m determined to find something that’s impossible for Mr. Perfect to do.
“Okay,” he says without hesitation, so sure of himself. I envy that about him, even as it drives me crazy.
Taking a deep breath, I tiptoe to the edge of the pool, my bare feet slipping slightly on the smooth tiles. The water glistens invitingly, reflecting the city lights like a sea of stars. With one last glance at Max’s turned back, I slide into the pool, trying (and failing) to stifle a squeak as the cool water embraces my skin. My naked body glides beneath the surface, and I savor the clandestine thrill of a late-night swim au naturel.
It feels dangerous, new, and invigorating to do something so deliciously scandalous. The water caresses me like silk, and I move through it withnewfound grace, feeling more alive than I have since . . . well, ever.
After a couple of laps, I emerge from the pool, the balmy night air kissing my damp skin. It’s exhilarating, like I’m the star of my own rom-com montage. I feel a rush of adrenaline mixed with a heady sense of freedom, and I can’t help but giggle softly to myself.
My eyes dart to Max’s shadowy figure leaning against the railing at the far end of the rooftop deck, his back still dutifully turned. He’s too far away to make out any details, and the pool is shrouded in enough darkness. There’s no way he can actually see anything . . . right?
I kick languidly, propelling myself toward the edge of the pool nearest him. “Enjoying the view?” I call out teasingly, channeling my inner femme fatale—and probably sounding more like a congested chipmunk.
Max glances over his shoulder. Even from a distance, I can feel his smirk. “The city lights are beautiful tonight. Among other things.”
My cheeks flush hotter than the summer asphalt at his flirtatious tone. Is he implying . . .? No, surely he can’t discern anything incriminating from way over there. The ripples distort everything below the surface . . . I think. I hope. Maybe?
Emboldened by the darkness—and possibly temporary insanity, I arch my back and float spread-eagled on the water’s obsidian face, reveling in the forbidden freedom of baring it all beneath the stars. My heart pounds against my rib cage like it’s trying toescape. This is reckless, daring . . . thrilling. What if he did catch an eyeful? The thought sends an illicit shiver down my spine.
A part of me wants to invite him in, to share this magical moment. But there’s so much implied in that invitation, isn’t there? Plus, I’d probably drown trying to form coherent words with a naked Max in close proximity.
“The water’s perfect,” I call out instead, my voice only slightly squeaky. “You’re missing out, you know.”
“Am I?” Max’s voice carries a hint of challenge. “Maybe I should join you then.”
Oh boy. What have I gotten myself into now?
Chapter Eight
Maximillian
“Of course,if you join me, there are some ground rules,” Zoe suddenly says, and I freeze mid-pivot. Here I was, all excited about her invitation, and of course, she had to come up with something to stop me from enjoying what could be the best night of my life in a long—very long—time.
“What are these rules?” I ask, trying to calm my excitement and remind myself that no matter what happens tonight, my dick doesn’t getto play with Zoe. Now, my mouth though . . . my mouth is ready for her. It’s my civic duty to save her from the tormented life she lived with Tom the Tool.
“You can jump into the water, but with your underwear—no commando for you,” she begins, and I grin because that’s not happening.
“Sorry, but I don’t wear any,” I say, smirking, hoping that information flusters her.
“Oh,” she barely whispers. “Well, then you have to get swim trunks or you don’t get to come into the water with me.”
What the ever-loving fuck? Is she for real?
“That’s not fair,” I argue, feeling like a kid who’s just been told the ice cream truck is out of popsicles.
“This is the challenge, McCallister. You have to follow my rules—you can’t break any of them,” she dares me, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
