Page 71 of Sing For Me

My nerves—along with every thought in my head—disappear at the sight of him standing on my deck in his suit. The moon overhead shines down on smooth, inked up skin like a spotlight. His chest is even more cut than I would have guessed from the times I’ve been close enough to feel it, a large expanse of tanned muscles flexing as he turns toward me.

I, apparently, don’t have nearly the same effect on him—he takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re wearing to swim?”

I tug on the baggy t-shirt, smoothing the hem down over the waistband of the long gym shorts Caleb left here once. “I’m cold,” I tell him, and his eyebrow raises higher. It was warm in LA today, and the setting sun has done little to lower the temperature.

“You don’t think the hot tub will be sufficient warmth?”

“Just get your ass in there, Ransome.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re the boss.”

Once his back is turned to climb the steps into the tub, I pull down the gym shorts, tugging the hem of my shirt as low as it can go. If I angle my body on the way in, I should be able to get below the water before he can see anything.

His dark eyes remain locked on mine as I sink into the warm bubbles. It’s too dark out here for me to read his expression but I don’t like the appraising way he’s studying me.

“What?” I ask, fidgeting with the shirt under the water. It’s not the most comfortable thing to wear in here, the jets from the tub making the abundance of sodden fabric swirl and bubble up around me.

“You know I would never pressure you to do something you didn’t want to do, right?”

I stare at him, caught off guard. “Yeah, Will. I know that.”

He gives a pointed look to the fabric on my chest. The jets have pushed so much air into the oversized shirt that I’m in very real danger of drowning in cotton. “Then what’s with the shirt? I can control myself if I see you in a bathing suit, Eva.” He swallows and I get distracted by the droplet of water that slips over his Adam’s apple.

“I know you aren’t interested in that…from me,” he continues, and a shot of guilt rises in my belly.

“It’s not that, Will,” I say immediately. “I trust you.”

He gestures at the ridiculous shirt again. “Then what’s happening here?”

I let out a long breath, resting my head back on the edge of the tub. “I’m too attracted to you,” I groan out.

“I’m sorry?” Bewilderment bleeds from his voice.

“I’m too attracted to you, Will!” I sit up straighter so I can gesture at him. “I mean, look at you!” He looks down at his bare chest, glistening with water in the moonlight like some kind of sexy demon sent to destroy me. I tug on the billowing shirt. “Your body is ridiculous!”

“So you’re saying you’re attracted to me.”

I stare at him for a long moment than throw up my hands. “Duh!”

His eyes are twinkling with amusement as he searches my face. “I’m not seeing why this is a problem.”

The freaking shirt is trying to plaster itself over my face, adding to the irritation. “You’re like, insanely beautiful. Your tattoos and that thick, stupid, gorgeous hair.” I point at his face. “And your beard! And I don’t even like beards! So why does your beard make my fingers itch to touch it?”

“Eva—”

“I’m not finished!” I’m not exactly sure what’s gotten into me but I’m on a roll. “You’re so tall and your chest is like, unbelievable. And your forearms kill me.” I slap at the shirt. “Damn it!”

Will’s shoulders are shaking with the effort it takes not to laugh. “Please take that stupid thing off before it kills you.”

I slip back against the seat, all the fight going out of me just like that.

“You’ll see my scar.”

The words are barely more than a whisper, probably unintelligible over the rumbling of the jets. But Will stills across from me, realization dawning on his face.

“You have a scar on your hip?”

I nod. And then I tell him.