Page 9 of Teach Me To Sin

I trace my name with the toe of my shoe in the water. “He called you a prick.”

“Oh.” He makes a face like he bit into a rancid pickle. “The asshole. He’s a lawyer, but he came here by mistake.”

My mouth goes dry, and my head gets kind of floaty. “A lawyer?”

Brandishing a stopwatch and clipboard, he comes back and stops where I can smell his comforting, clean sweat from a day of hard work. “I don’t need a lawyer. There was–”

I press a hand flat against his chest, and he trails off. “Don’t spill your secrets to strangers. You’re not very street smart.”

“You don’t look like you’ve ever been on a street in your life,” he returns with a confused smile, nodding toward my luxury watch and the Ralph Lauren logo on my shorts.

Before I can answer, his phone rings shrilly. The name on the screen makes his grin collapse. “Excuse me.”

He paces a few yards away, like he doesn’t want me to hear, but answers on speaker. It’s probably a habit from always being too busy to hold his phone to his ear. I raise my eyebrows at his back when a woman’s voice cuts through the hush. “Can you grab a bottle of wine on the way home, or have you already driven past the store?”

“Ummm…shit.” Rubbing his forehead, he shoots me a guilty look over his shoulder. “I have to work late. I’m so sorry I forgot about date night again.”

I expect her to sound upset, but her voice just gets soft and tired. “I got new lingerie. I thought it might help you–” Alek fumbles the phone and silences the speaker, putting it to his ear. His thumb runs back and forth along the edge of his clipboard as he leans against the wall and listens.

“I can’t,” he murmurs, hanging his head. I don’t know if he means he can’t come home or he can’t do whatever the lingerie is supposed to help. “I found some missing tax paperwork that I have to file before the end of the day.”

“Oooh,” I say, cringing. He shoots me a dirty look.

“I’m no expert on women, but you should go tear her lingerie off,” I offer generously when he hangs up. “When she was a little girl, she probably dreamed about being more important than someone’stax paperwork.”

Rolling his eyes at my finger quotes, he grabs a pair of goggles from an overflowing cardboard box of spares and throws them to me. “We’re absolutely fine.”

“It sure sounds like it.”

His jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. “Undress and get in the pool for me, so we can both get out of here before midnight.”

My stomach flips at the change in his voice, calm and full of authority. The only obedience I know is motivated by fear, so his quiet demand leaks through my body like slow, sweet fire. I drop my shorts and strip off my oversized t-shirt, then freeze up and stare at the water like a fool. Goosebumps break out on my arms, and an unconscious shiver runs through my body—one last warning not to kick off a string of events that could end in disaster.

A steady palm presses between my shoulder blades, and Alek’s thumb brushes once across my bare skin. “Don’t stress, Benji. You’re okay,” he murmurs by my ear. My god. I want him to slide his fingers down my spine and bite the back of my neck as he thrusts into me. My brain is going haywire with lust and nerves, pulling at threads until the toppy guy with the snarky eyes comes and picks us both up, a two-for-one special. The things we could do.

My mental porn must be so depraved that it ripples out into the universe, because Alek jerks his hand away and fixates on his clipboard. He looks upset, like he’s picturing how his sex-abuser father touched his swimmers inappropriately. Now I feel like an even bigger piece of shit. If I can swim as beautifully as the dream version of me he’s built in his head, maybe I can get him to smile again.

I step into the pool like a professional might, rather than diving or cannonballing like a kid. Swimming always settles me down, so taking a few warm-up laps cools off the urges in my dick and the fog in my brain. When I finish, Alek crouches at the side of the pool and holds up his stopwatch. “Give me 200m of your best stroke, and we’ll get some preliminary times down for you.”

The only thought going through my mind as I rush through my first length of freestyle isshit shit shit shit.My start sucks, I can’t remember what to do with my limbs, I’m too slow, and I’m wasting his time. When my hand finds the wall, I come up hacking and snorting on a lungful of water.

Yanking my goggles off, I squint up at Alek. He’s definitely not smiling. “What?” I croak. I’m already gasping, because I haven’t made my body perform all out in months.

“That’s not how you were swimming before.”

I blink at him miserably. “Huh?”

“It’s completely different. Do it the old way.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The pool feels bigger and bigger the more stressed I get, like I’m stuck in the ocean. “I don’tdoanything. I just swim.”

Reaching over, he taps his knuckles gently against mine where I’m gripping the wall. “Hey. Stop trying to be something you’re not. Relax and do it your way.”

“Did anyone ever tell you to try coaching?” I grin and slap the side of his sneaker. “You might be okay at it.”

So many conflicting emotions cross his face before he chuckles and shakes his head. “Try doing it again.”

Time stands still as he makes me swim endless lengths, showing him all my strokes until I’m exhausted. When I climb out on shaky arms and check the ostentatious Rolex I should have left at home, it’s been an hour. My aching body hums with the good kind of exercise chemicals, topped with an extra hit of serotonin from being near Alek.

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