Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I’ve been inside the building a few times to work out with Carina, but it’s weird to be here when the place is completely empty. The way our shoes echo off the concrete walls is creepy.
I tug on his hand. “Are you sure we should be here? What if someone catches us?”
He glances at me. “Then we run really fast.”
Oh god.
I’ve never been in trouble. Not even so much as a tardy for being late to class in high school. I’d hate for that to change during my senior year of college. All I see are my hopes for a prestigious med school going up in a puff of smoke because of one bad decision.
“Ryder,” I whisper hesitantly. “Maybe we—”
He stops and jerks my hand until I’m stumbling forward and crashing into his broad chest. Even in the darkness that surrounds us, his gaze pins mine in place.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, all right?”
My lungs empty of air.
His hands settle on the tops of my shoulders as he presses me closer. “Do you trust me?”
I don’t know…
Do I?
Do I trust Ryder McAdams?
I’ve known him forever.
Our families are best friends.
In all honesty, I don’t think he’d do anything to deliberately cause me harm. As that thought circles through my brain, I jerk my head into a nod.
“I’ll keep you safe.”
The tension filling my muscles drains away as he releases his grip and retreats a step. And then we’re once again moving along the corridor. We make a few turns. One left and then a right before heading down a flight of stairs. There’s a labyrinth of twists before Ryder opens a heavy door. I wince as it squeaks on its hinges, unable to help myself from glancing around cautiously.
Didn’t he mention that the custodial staff is here working?
The beam of his light slides over a row of black metal lockers as we wind our way around wooden benches. The soles of our shoes echo off the ceramic tile floor and walls as he shoves through yet another door into a cavernous space. I grind to a halt as the pungent scent of chlorine assaults my nostrils. The expansive area is surrounded on two sides by walls of glass, allowing bright moonlight to filter in and illuminate the tranquil surface.
“The pool?” I whisper in surprise. “What…” The question dies a quick death as I realize why he brought me here.
Number two.
My wide gaze swings to his.
“Figure it out yet?” he asks with a smirk, satisfaction sparking in his eyes.
“Skinny dipping.” Barely am I able to push the response out.
“Yup.”
My mind somersaults. Before I can say anything—like maybe this isn’t such a great idea—he drags his thick sweatshirt up his torso and over his head before dropping it to the tile at his feet. The T-shirt that hugs his thickly corded biceps quickly follows suit until he’s standing before me bare chested.
My mouth turns cottony as my gaze unconsciously licks over him. Even in the pale moonlight, I can make out the sculpted lines of his upper torso.
“I, ah, didn’t bring a suit,” I whisper thickly.
The whiteness of his teeth flashes in the darkness that presses in on us. “Yeah, that’s how skinny-dipping works. No suits required.”
“Oh. Right.” I rip my gaze away long enough to glance at the crystal-clear water. “How can you be so sure no one will walk in on us?”
By the time my attention resettles on him, his gray sweatpants have been shoved down his legs and he’s peeling them off along with his socks. He straightens to his full height. The only article of clothing still in place is a pair of dark gray boxer briefs that hug his trim waist and muscular thighs.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as my gaze roves hungrily over him for a second time. He isn’t even fully naked yet and my brain is malfunctioning.
No one should look this good.
He could be plastered across a billboard in Times Square.
He’s that perfect.
Heck, when he’s playing professional hockey, advertisers will clamor for him to endorse their products.
It’s not like I haven’t seen him in a pair of boardshorts during the summer by the pool or when our families have vacationed together, but it’s been a couple of years. During that time, Ryder has completely filled out. He’s no longer a boy but all man. One who is capable of turning a woman’s insides to complete mush.
“My friend made sure to clean this area first. Plus, isn’t that part of the experience? Getting caught swimming naked where you shouldn’t be?”
In theory?
Sure.
In practice?
Probably not.
He tilts his head as his gaze holds mine captive. “You’re not going to chicken out, are you?”
“No.”
As soon as the response falls from my lips, he shoves the boxers down his thighs.
And then he’s stripped completely bare.
Holy mother of…
Even though I should look away, doing so feels impossible. My gaze stays pinned to his cock.