Page 45 of Spearcrest Knight

“We’ll see.” And with that threat, I grab her by the arms and pull her into the water.

She falls forward with a big splash and remerges, spluttering.

“Evan! My towel!”

I hold up my middle finger. “Fuck your towel, too.”

She grabs the towel, now sopping wet, and tosses it out of the water. Then she turns around, her eyes searching the pool. She seems to find whatever she’s looking for, and I turn to follow her gaze.

My eyes land on my clean, dry, monogrammed, Turkish cotton towel, folded and sitting innocently at the other end of the pool.

“Oh no, you fucking don’t!”

I dive into the water and catch up with her, yanking her leg back. She sinks and flails, then breaks the surface and pushes a big wave at me. My goggles are still around my neck, so my eyes are already burning from the chlorine, but I still turn my head to avoid the splash.

She tries to swim away, but she’s not fast enough to get away from me. I grab her by the waist and swim her away to the other side of the pool.

“Let me go, you giant moron!”

She struggles against me, but I keep her pinned by her waist. It’s not easy, because she’s stronger than she looks. She presses her hands to my chest and pushes, but I refuse to let her go. By the time we both realise her thighs are wrapped around my hips and her breasts are at my eye level, it’s too late.

Her indignant laughter dies in her throat. Wet black hair coils against her neck and shoulders. Droplets of water slide across her skin, disappearing between her breasts. Her nipples are hard underneath the smooth black fabric of her swimsuit. She stares at me, lips slightly parted. I stare back, praying to God almighty she can’t tell I’m suddenly really fucking turned on.

She takes my face in her hand, holding my jaw in her fingers. For a crazy second, I think she’s about to kiss me. I tilt my head, raising my mouth to hers. Every inch of me wants this—a dark, yawning hunger inside me I didn’t even know was there.

Her lips ghost across mine.

But of course, she doesn’t kiss me.

“Race me,” she says instead, her breath tickling my lips, her voice low and husky.

The way she’s looking down at me with those dark, hooded eyes is authoritative, almost dominant. My breath catches, my cock hardening. She looks so fucking hot I can barely stand to look at her. All I can think of is claiming her mouth with mine, palming her pretty tits roughly and shoving aside her swimsuit to thrust myself inside her to the hilt.

“W—what?” I ask hoarsely, realising I didn’t register what she said.

Her fingers dig into my cheeks and she pushes my head back with a slow, cocky smirk. “You heard me.Race me, swim team champ.”

I swallow hard. I can think of a thousand things I want to do to her right now, and racing her is the last thing on the list. By now I’m really fucking hard, my cock desperate for friction, contact—anything. If she was anybody else, I’d already have my tongue in her mouth and my cock buried inside her—but she’s not anybody else, and I’d rather die than let Sophie know how hard I am for her.

So I push her away from me in the water and paddle away, calling over my shoulder, “You’re on!”

We both go to different edges and wait. I take my goggles off my neck and shake the water off them, then pull them on. If nothing else, this race will reroute the blood through my body and hopefully away from my cock.

I glance over at her and she nods.

“On my mark. Ready…. Steady…”

I grin. She has no idea what she’s signed up for.

“Go!” she calls.

I shoot forward, piercing through the water like a spear. I keep my head down, emerging only to breathe at timed intervals. I reach the end in minutes, and emerge triumphantly, looking around so I can watch her catch up with me.

“Trust you to have the fanciest towel imaginable.”

I whip around. Sophie is standing by the edge of the pool, my towel wrapped around her, patting her face and neck with a corner.

“You little fucking cheat!”

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