The Trouble With Quarterbacks(23)

“No!” I hold my arms out to keep him at bay, though I know it’s futile. He could do whatever he wanted with me and I couldn’t stop him. I shiver. What a thought.

His wet hand shoots out to wrap around my forearm, his grip closing around it so easily it almost scares me.

“Logan!” It’s no use. Even the serious tone I employ with the naughty toddlers at The Day School doesn’t earn me his respect.

“One…”

He starts to count, and I know when he gets to three, I’m going in.

“I can’t! It’s embarrassing!”

“Two…”

“Right okay. Just hold on, will you?!”

“Three…”

“LOGAN!”

He tugs me and I’m in the water, dunked under so I’m wet from head to toe when I surface again, sputtering water in my absolute rage.

“OH MY GOD! YOU RUINED THE MOST EXPENSIVE THING I OWN!”

I think I’m going to cry. Really. My bottom lip is quivering. Logan swims over and doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, touching me, gathering me close. His body is so warm, and I don’t push away even though he more than deserves it.

“What are you going on about?” he asks, pushing my wet hair off my face. “Is the dress really that expensive?”

My stomach squeezes tight as I admit the truth. “Over twenty-two hundred dollars with tax and everything. Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t want to buy it. Don’t think I’m some girl who spends money she doesn’t have, but I tried it on as a laugh, and well, the zipper got stuck and I couldn’t exactly cut myself out of it. It’s couture—custom! And now it’s ruined!”

I look down at the material in the water and ignore the fact that the red chiffon looks quite pretty floating up all around me. This is no time for frivolity!

I’m right up against Logan now, wet chest to wet chest. He has his arms wrapped around me and we’re bobbing while he listens to my hysterical rambling.

I’m faintly aware of him repeating my name, trying to get me to calm down, but it’s useless. I’m going to go haul myself over that glass wall. It’s the only solution. Yaz and Kat can use my life insurance to pay off my dress debt.

Logan’s hand drifts up to my chin, and he lifts it gently until I’m forced to look him right in the eyes. His dark lashes are wet and thick, and his brown eyes sear into me in such a lovely way. If I had any talent for art, I’d want to paint him like this, right up close so the world could see him from this angle and we could all collectively swoon.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promises.

Then his hand leaves my face and snakes around the back of my dress, our gazes staying locked as if he’s put me under a spell. I’m only half aware of everything going on around me: the soft feel of the wet fabric against my skin, the way our hips keep bumping together beneath the surface of the water, how much he overcrowds me when I’m not even backed into a corner. Then his fingers find the top of my zipper and he tugs, not gently. He pulls like he’s on a mission, one he completes much too quickly. I hear the telltale sound of expensive fabric tearing and the dress splits in two, filling with water and starting to slide off my body.

I look down in absolute shock. A delayed reaction if there ever was one.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he swears, again, stripping the material away.

“Well now you’ll have to! You tore it!”

“What was your plan, exactly?” he says, tipping his head in such a boyish way that I almost, for a second, forget how intimidating he can be.

“Simple—to wear it every day until I die.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Please go get your checkbook right now,” I say, pointing back inside his flat. “I’ll wait. Make the check out to Candace Williams. That’s C-A-N-D-A-C-E. I’ll cash it in the morning.”

“Sure thing…right after we’re done swimming,” he says with a cocky smile as he finishes yanking my dress off me.

I’ve been unclothed by a few lads in my day, and there’s always been a lot of fumbling fingers and nervous laughter. Not this time. Oh, no. Logan is stripping me in front of a crowd of people, and it’s like he’s done the gesture a thousand times before. Very practiced, this man.

I’m highly aware that my knickers are not at all modest. They cut high up along my arse so that most of it is exposed, not quite a thong, but not that far off. Thank god I went for that wax! My bra is no better. I wore a strapless one when we went dress shopping, and the nude material has gone nearly see-through.

“I’m practically naked!”

“Hardly,” Logan says, a wicked look in his eyes as he gathers my most prized possession, wads it into a ball, and tosses it out of the pool. Red fabric heaps beside a lounger, and now I’m stuck, in here with him, with barely any clothes on.

“Give me your tee!” I say, swimming closer and starting to pry the wet material off his abs. “It’ll cover me well enough. Probably go down to my ankles with any luck.”

“Sure thing,” he says, reaching back in that ultra-sexy way to yank his shirt up and off in one fell swoop. Then he holds it out for me, and I reach for it. As soon as my fingers touch it, he jerks it away and tosses it out beside my dress. “Actually, why bother? It’s sopping wet. You don’t want to put it on anyway.”