Love in the Time of Serial Killers(51)

Sam said he didn’t, and promised not to look as I stripped down. I made no such promises, so I caught a glimpse of his boxer briefs, the lean muscles in his back as he pulled his undershirt off, the ridges of his spine as he bent over to kick the coveralls off his feet. And then he surprised me by diving right into the deep end, submerging underwater until he came up for air a few moments later.

“The water’s warm,” he said. “But it still feels great. Come on in.”

He drifted over to the side of the pool, resting his arms on the concrete deck, and I knew that was his way of giving me privacy while I undressed. A part of me wanted to say, Go ahead and watch me, because I was an adult and it seemed silly to be shy about this kind of thing, but also because I wanted to see if his eyes could turn that darker shade of blue or if I’d imagined it. But I stepped out of my shorts and yanked my tank top over my head, and then I was in the water.

It did feel great. I floated weightless, the glow from the underwater light turning my skin a pale bluish color. I felt like an alien. I felt happy.

“I could get used to this,” I said, referring to more than the pool.

Sam treaded water, watching me. Just when I thought he might say something, or when I thought maybe I should, he ducked back under the water. Bubbles on the surface traced his path, showing that he was moving closer, until he emerged again in the shallow end with me. He was only in up to his waist, droplets of water sliding down his chest and over his flat stomach as he slicked his hair back and ran a hand over his face.

“You have paint in your hair,” I said.

“You have paint on your—” His gaze dipped to my breasts before coming back up to meet mine. Maybe it was the otherworldly lighting or the fact that his eyelashes were dark and spiky with water, but his eyes looked electric blue.

I glanced down at my cleavage, which, sure enough, had a smear of paint right across the top of my left breast. “Huh,” I said. “How did that get there?”

You could also totally see my nipples through this bra. Whoops.

The tips of his ears were so pink by now that if it had been daytime, I would’ve thought he was getting sunburned.

“It’s too easy,” I said, moving closer to him in the water.

“What is?”

“Making you blush . . .”

I stood on my tiptoes, curling my hand around the back of his neck. His skin was warm and slick with water, and I grabbed the hair at the nape to pull him toward me. I hadn’t known I was going to kiss him until a split second before I did it. I felt like I’d known the minute I’d seen that he’d moved the stupid desk outside my front door.

If I had control at first, I didn’t for long. His hands came up to my cheeks, his mouth insistent on mine as he deepened the kiss. He had my lower lip between his teeth, giving a soft nibble while a whimper came from the back of my throat that didn’t even sound like me. My nipples were tight and aching, rubbing his chest through the thin fabric of my bra. His hand slid under the fabric to cup my goosefleshed skin, his fingers rolling my nipple in a sensation so exquisite it almost hurt.

“You have great boobs,” he murmured against my neck. “Can I say that?”

My bra was half-askew by now, one strap falling down my arm. “If my boobs are out, you’re contractually obligated to say that.” I reached down to grab his ass, pushing his hips toward me until I could feel the hard length of him against my thigh. “You have a great ass. It even looks good in coveralls.”

“I was hoping those would drive you crazy.”

“It was the name patch that really did it. Wear those the next time you jump my battery and I can live out the sexy mechanic fantasy I didn’t even know I had.”

I could feel his smile against my mouth. “Phoebe?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m trying to jump something else right now,” he said, “if that’s okay by you.”

“My bones?”

He kissed me again, and I swallowed his response, feeling it as a vibration somewhere in my gut. And then all conscious thought flew out of my head as his hands cupped my ass, lifting me as I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling him against the core of me in a way that immediately made a shiver run up my spine.

“Cold?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just keep kissing me.”

He sucked on my lower lip, my neck, his tongue circling my earlobe before returning to my mouth. I couldn’t get enough of Sam, wanted to feel his bare skin against mine. Making out in a pool was hot, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted to be with him without the water between us.

“Do you have,” I said, coming up for air before kissing him again, “condoms inside?”

His eyebrows rose in an expression that was either incredulity that I had to ask, or incredulity that this was happening so fast. Maybe both.

“Yeah,” he said. “Are you—”

I slid down his body, giving his collarbone a little swipe with my tongue, because I’d promised myself I would. It tasted like chlorine and salt and Sam. “I’m sure,” I said, because I had a feeling about what he was going to ask. “Let’s go to your room. Please?”

We wrapped ourselves quickly in the towels Sam had left on the back porch and came in through the sliding glass door, him leading me through the house, holding my hand. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before, this total need to be connected to another person. It probably had a lot to do with how long it had been since I last had sex, I figured, and how much anticipation I’d built up the last few weeks just in watching Sam, thinking about him, spending time together. Once we actually had sex, I’d get it out of my system. A fling, like I’d wanted.