The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood, #2)

by Nikki Sloane

God, it was sensual the way he touched and rubbed himself, as if enjoying it as much as I did. “Fuck,” he groaned in satisfaction. “I want to see all of you.”

“I haven’t had sex in a long time. You don’t want to get within striking distance of me.” God, his amused grin made my bones melt. “Like you’re dangerous, Erika.”

Hearing my name in his seductive voice made all the moisture in my body rush to the center of my legs. I meant for it to sound sultry, but I faltered.

He closed both hands around himself, and I couldn’t tell if it was to give himself more pleasure or to hold it back. “Fuck. Tell me about it.”

Clark had never asked me to touch myself, and he’d never shown any interest in watching me do it either. So, it made my head spin that Troy was into it. He was so into it.

A long, deep exhale of satisfaction came from him, and something suspiciously like a growl rose from his throat. It was primal and animalistic, and the hardwired woman in me responded. “Oh,” I gasped. “You’re going to make me . . .” He groaned with pleasure.

“I meant, insanely hot.” Relief sparked, and my attention flew back to him. “Oh.” His voice was rich, and his expression was stripped bare of bravado. It was honest and hopeful. “Wasn’t it?” “Yeah,” I breathed. He nodded as if he’d said the word “good” out loud, and then swung his gaze from me toward the open door to the bathroom.

Still naked and devastating, and it was even worse when he put his hands on his waist and shot me a mock disapproving look. “You got dressed fast.” It was odd how he was so confident without a stitch of clothing on, but then again, he had nothing to be embarrassed about.

The window of me maintaining my self-control was rapidly closing, and I could not sleep with him. He was a guy, and in my experience, it wasn’t hard to convince them to hop into bed. Every signal Troy had given me made me confident he’d say yes if I asked.

And while a huge part of me wanted a quick hookup, it wouldn’t be “no strings” with him. There were very big, very personal strings attached to Troy. Jenna would never forgive me, and my friendship with her was worth more than a night of meaningless sex. It was incredibly likely I’d already damaged it beyond repair.

You should probably too, because . . .” I tried to assemble the right phrasing in my head, but nothing sounded right, and as time dragged on, Troy’s posture began to stiffen. “Because,” he said flatly, “this was a mistake.” Hurt lurked in his eyes, but I only caught it for a moment because he bent, scooped up his shorts, and jammed a leg into them.

I couldn’t hold his gaze as he finished pulling them on and did up his fly. My shame was too powerful. “It wasn’t a mistake,” I said quietly, “but I shouldn’t have asked you to . . .” I took the cowardly way out and let him fill in the rest of the words I wasn’t saying. “I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.”

It’s just . . . I took advantage of you. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I’m okay with it happening again.” Eagerness fluttered in my stomach, but I squashed it down.

“Well, it can’t.” I frowned. “Besides everything else, I’m too old for you.” Goddamn that sexy smile that lurked on his lips and how his tone patronized. “If you say so, Ms. Graham.”

Every time I’d come over since Troy had moved back in with his parents, I’d never seen him at home. Their guest house was a full apartment and that was where he stayed. Until now.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, as if an invisible force field prevented him from moving farther, a bowl full of cereal, complete with a spoon, in his hand. Our gazes locked, and he blinked rapidly, as if he couldn’t process what he was seeing. Had I done the same thing? Because it was exactly how I felt.

“After Clark?” Jenna scowled. “You need to be with a man who’s dying to get on you. Tell me I’m wrong.” My heart was galloping a million miles an hour, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him. His simple gray t-shirt was stretched tight across his chest, flaunting his powerful frame. Jeans clung to his hips, and his brown hair was mussed, but not messy. He was casually styled and effortlessly sexy.

His expression caused me to unravel. Jenna had said I needed someone dying to have me, and for one long moment, he gazed back like he could be that man. And I wanted that too.

He was inexperienced, but still too good for this to have been his first-ever performance.

So, why the hell didn’t I know how talented he was? The only thing that made sense was that it had been kept from me. But why?

When I shut the door, he snapped upright in surprise. “Ms. Graham?” I ignored the urge to correct him on my name, or the fact he looked both excited and nervous to see me.

“If I try, then I’m going to want it.”

His mouth drifted from mine, planting kisses across my cheekbone, as he moved toward my ear. It made me shiver and melt when he discovered the tender spot on my neck, and then his lust-choked words filled my ear. “Fuck Tinder,” he uttered. “You don’t need it. I’m right here.”

To add to his sales pitch, he leaned in and pressed the hard length of his body against me, reminding me how male and ready he was. A sound of satisfaction escaped from my throat, and I pressed urgently against him.

“Don’t make me choose, Erika.” I thrilled at hearing my name on his lips, but my brain wouldn’t be quiet. How was this even possible? “You’d give up an amazing opportunity—” His mouth crushed against mine, silencing my words, and his searing kiss burned away all thought.

“Are you,” I gasped, “trying to extort me?” “Of course not.” He nipped at my lips. “Is it working?” Fuck, it totally was, but I couldn’t let him know.

I wanted to ask him if he liked how my new tits felt and tell him the way he gripped me was so fucking perfect. Instead, I summed it all up in one word. “Fuck,” I gasped. “Yeah.” He was short of breath, and his voice went low and rough. “We should do that.”

“So? We’re both adults.” Was that desperation in his eyes? “She doesn’t need to know.” I sighed and pushed off the desk to stand on my kiss-drunk legs. “Then, go with one of the other reasons.” “I’m serious.” Troy’s expression was firm. “I’d rather have a chance with you than the audition.” Everything went still.

“I’m a lot younger and you were married, and it was wrong, but . . . shit. I wanted this for a long time. And then it happened, and it was even better than I thought it’d be.”

“And now,” his tone was sour, “you’re saying it can never happen again. I couldn’t stop thinking about you before any of this, how the hell am I supposed to now? And work with you on top of it?”

“What?” “You can’t be my manager,” he said. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

Erika: Can we set up a meeting? I’d like to talk. My answer was straight to the point. Me: No.

If I took a meeting with her, she’d fill my brain with ideas. I’d see record deals, and music videos, and thousands of fans screaming my name—when none of that was going to happen. I’d dreamed big once and failed so hard, I’d learned my lesson. Hopefully.

She’d opened the door, so I wasn’t going to leave until she told me to. She wanted me to audition and I wanted her. That seemed pretty fucking simple to me. I needed to get her to say yes.

She’d told me I shouldn’t get within striking distance of her because she was dangerous, and I was starting to think she may have been right.

“What made you want to learn the guitar? Have you always wanted to perform?” Oh, man. That was a question that could lead us into a whole thing. “No.” My voice was uneven. “I did it because I wanted to impress someone.” Her posture straightened as if she suspected. “A girl?” I took off my sunglasses and cast them down on the wrought iron tabletop with a clatter, giving her the full intensity of my stare. If this was as close as I was going to get with her, I might as well just do it. “You could say that. She was married at the time.”

Erika became a statue and it looked like chaos was scrambling the inside of her head. Was she doing the math? Five years ago, I’d been nineteen. And she’d barely known I existed.

It wasn’t that often I got shy, but with her? I always struggled.

I gave a plain look. “What I saw was Mr. Graham being a fucking idiot. He turned you down when nearly every other guy in the place would have killed to be with you. You know that, right?” It didn’t look like she believed me, but it was the truth.

“That shit pissed me off. How could he pass on you?” I crossed my arms. “I watched y’all together after that night, but it made it worse. He never touched you, didn’t pay attention. Sometimes, I don’t think he was aware you were even in the room.”

“I always knew when you were around.” My voice went soft. “So, I figured if he wasn’t interested . . . I’d try to show you a guy who was.” She blinked, slowly processing all of it. “You’re saying you learned to play the guitar, because you wanted to . . . fuck me?” My chest expanded with a deep breath, and I rubbed the pads of my fingers against my forehead. “Okay, so it doesn’t sound great when you say it like that.”

It was encouraging that she didn’t look like it sounded all that bad to her. Warmth colored her cheeks. “But we never talked.” “I was working up to that.” I quirked the corner of my mouth into a pained smile. “Your pool is the only one I work on.”

She pressed her lips together. “Your master plan was to seduce me with clean skimmers and perfectly balanced pH?” I laughed. “I told you, I was working on it.” I didn...

but it makes sense to me. You’re hot. Us together? We’d be off the charts. And don’t act like you’re not interested.” My dirty mouth hadn’t shocked her before—in fact, she’d responded to it. I smirked as I went in for the kill. “Shit, you’re looking at me right now like you want me to bend you over this table.”

She straightened uncomfortably in her seat, which told me everything I needed to know. She was visualizing it right this second, me pulling her from her chair, getting her pants down, and bending her over until her tits were pressed against the wrought iron. I loaded it with seduction. “You want me to?”

“We don’t have to tell anyone,” I offered. “I’ve already proven I can keep a secret.” Hadn’t I? I wasn’t talking about hiding what we’d done in the pool house from my mom or my performances at Blanche’s either. I meant the years I’d gone secretly wanting her. Waiting to strike when the time was right. Wasn’t it now?

Just say yes, Erika.

I’d been so sure she’d see this was a total win-win. But she didn’t come back out of the house, and . . . I couldn’t sit there all day like the idiot I was.

She was so hot, I was going to damage my retinas just looking at her. “Fuck,” I whispered. “Yes,” she answered, her voice wavering. “We should do that.”

While I’d only gotten a glimpse of Troy’s reaction to the sexy bodysuit, it had been everything I’d hoped for and more. His eyes hazed and lips parted to take in a wild breath before he’d lunged at me.