Page 29 of The Catch

"Sooo… you don't want to…?"

He runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes fixed on me. It's an effortlessly sexy move. Added to the way he studies me, like he's figuring out exactly what I'm asking… It makes me a little breathless.

"Mh," he utters. "I don't remember you ever asking about my dating life."

And I definitely shouldn't be. My four-year relationship ended only a month ago. The breakup is proving I didn't have as good a relationship as I thought. That I may not have been as in love as I believed. But I need to process all of that, be sure I'm doing things right this time. Discover what 'doing things right' means. Letting myself develop a crush on my brother's friend, the one who's opened the doors of his home to me— that's not in the picture.

I haven't even gathered the courage to go get my things from Aidan's place. Which I absolutely must do. Soon. No time to develop a crush, when I have important things like that to do.

"I've known you for a long time," I say. "I don't think it's a coincidence that you suddenly stopped going out and doing your thing the same day I asked you to let me stay."

And I have feelings about it. They tingle at the top of my stomach, and travel up my chest like sparks from a fire at night.

Ames— pretend they're just curiosity.

Saint cocks his head and inspects me for a moment longer. I let him, and tell myself it doesn't affect me too much. If I focus on how Saint has traditionally looked everywhere else but me when dating, I'll squash those budding feelings inside me.

He stands. Water cascades down his torso, and several drops trail slowly behind. They are a caress on his skin, and yet I'm the one shivering.

Casually, like he's holding a cocktail at a pool in some sunny destination, he comes close to me. With him still in the water, we're at eye level.

"Doing my thing?" he asks. "What do you think my thing is?"

"Fu-dating, remember? But I'm not judging. You get to date as much as you want. All I care about is to make sure I'm not in your way."

He places his smoothie on the tile at my feet. With the ease of someone comfortable with themselves, who has a body this world was built for, he gets out of the pool.

Six recessed lights shine from the ceiling, creating stars on every swell of muscle, and sharp shadows on every chiseled dip of his body. He glistens. I can't help but to catalog the view, until my eyes catch the patch of wet fabric at his hips, sticking to his skin. An impressive bulge distends the navy shorts.

I bite back a gasp and cast my eyes to the floor. His eyes were on me. He knows exactly what I was looking at.

I need to feign disinterest.

With my heart beating in my ears, I grab my phone from my pocket and play with it in my hands. I have a few texts but I don't open the notifications. I wouldn't be able to process anything anyway.

The image of Saint standing wet and shiny in front of me is burned in my brain. I desperately review what little I could see, because maybe that bulge was more than a play of light and shadows. He might have been hard.

Fuck. I'm sure it's obvious my sudden interest in the tiled floor and the device in my hands is only a performance. But he doesn't say anything yet, and I don't know how to break the ice. I limit myself to hiding the tremors running down my spine.

"Ames."

My name on his lips is a dare.

I lift my eyes to his. Damn, he knows what he's doing. He knows he's hot and is challenging me to acknowledge it.

He runs a finger under his chain, putting it in its place. "Have you thought about what doing my thing would entail? You in your room, and someone screaming my name across the wall? Would you be okay with that?"

All I can think about is hooking a finger through the chain and using it to pull him to—

My phone vibrates in my hand. It's distracting enough that I don't finish the thought.

I clear my throat. "It doesn't matter if I'm okay with that."

My phone vibrates again, but I continue to ignore it. I keep my eyes on Saint, as he puts himself on display for me.

"It matters." He takes a step closer. "A lot."

My phone vibrates once more, and still I ignore it. I can't look away from Saint now. Whoever gives this up first— whatever it is— loses.