“Giving yourself a tour?” I didn’t hear the sliding glass close behind me, but Frankie was standing quietly outside holding two hot mugs of coffee. He was fresh out of the shower in board shorts and no shirt, the curling ends of his hair damp and dripping at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautifully tan. A soft trail of hair swirled his belly button and disappeared beneath the peak of his boxers that made my throat feel like a desert floor. “It’s really nice,” I complimented,
