He shakes his head, glancing down at the dessert tray by his foot. “Juliet brought cookies? You didn’t bake anything today?” “I wasn’t really feeling up to it.” Alarm flashes behind his eyes, and he’s discarding his jacket and rushing into the pool before I have a chance to amend my sentence. He swims over in record time, his strokes clean and lithe, and my mouth actually fucking waters watching his back muscles ripple in the water.
