FIA
He pushed his wet hair back from his face, water streaming down his jaw and neck. His shirt clung to every line of his chest and shoulders in a way that made my mouth go dry.
"Our clothes are completely ruined now," he said, voice low and accusing, but his eyes were bright with something that wasn't anger. "Because of you."
I grinned, pushing my own soaked hair out of my face. "I can see towels over there." I gestured vaguely toward the pool house. "So we'll be fine."
He moved closer through the water, slow and deliberate. "You know what they say about getting clothes wet."
"What do they say?"
"They're much easier to take off."
I rolled my eyes even as heat bloomed low in my belly. "That was terrible."
"Was it?" He was still moving toward me, cutting through the water with lazy confidence.
"Absolutely corny."
"And yet you're blushing."
"I'm not—" I splashed water at him. "We're in public, Cian. Anyone could walk up on us."
