Fisting my hair, he kisses me with a refined brutality, in a way that would leave any woman weak and at his mercy. My hands fall beneath the water, rubbing over the defined ridges of his stomach on the way to the waist of his jeans. The whirring of the pool pump drowns out the noise from the party as Tyler walks us away from the lights of the house, wading deeper into the pool. His hand slides down the small of my back and across the top of my thigh, every last inch of my skin heating beneath his touch. His finger brushes the lace of my thong. Even in the water, I can feel how wet I am.
