Ilya hoisted himself out of the pool. Shane’s breath caught a little as he watched him make his way over to his chair. His wet swimsuit clung to his thighs and his crotch, and water ran in little rivulets down his chest. When he reached Shane’s chair, he shook his head violently so water flew all over Shane’s dry clothing. “Ah! Fu—” Shane stopped himself. “Knock it off!” Instead, Ilya swooped down and wrapped his arms around him.
