Page 67 of Beautiful Monster

His head turns my way and he waves off the question like he said something he didn’t mean to. “Yeah…you know. When I was of that age.”

He answers like it’s just that simple. He didn’t want to get married, so he didn’t. But I’m also tempted to remind him that men in their forties can still get married and have children. That seems like a dangerous notion to bring up.

“Oh,” I answer because it’s about all my lungs can handle.

He laughs at me, that deep timbre chuckle as he stops and lets me catch up. “Breathe, Sunny.” His arm lands around my shoulders, and I lean into his body, wanting the contact but also the support. I guess I’m in worse shape than I expected.

“Are you judging me, rain cloud?”

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

“Because you got quiet. And when you get quiet, I can tell there’s something you want to say.”

“I just think it’s funny that you can live your whole life without any pressure.”

“So, you think I don’t get pressured? Please. My sister has been breathing down my neck to get married since I was twenty. It’s probably why I haven’t.”

“Why does she pressure you so much?” I ask, finally regaining the ability to breathe and speak at the same time.

“My parents died when we were young. Left us with money and not much else. I had the whole world and zero responsibility. All I had to do was keep up the investments, stay in touch with the business managers, and spend more money than I could make a dent in, in one lifetime. To my sister, I was throwing my life away. She thought that if I didn’t settle down, find a wife, build a family that it would all be for nothing.”

“And has it? Been all for nothing?” I ask, peeking up at him through the bright sun. There’s a sheen of sweat along his forehead, but he’s barely out of breath.

He smiles down at me, sending my stomach into a twirl. “How could I complain?”

I know he’s making light of a lifetime of behavior that has sent him spiraling and left him unfulfilled, but I see that somewhere in the levity is a hint of truth.

When we come to the top of the next hill, we decide to take off in a jog again. This time, he keeps up a slow pace to stay next to me. I notice movement across the street, a flash of light, but I don’t think anything of it. I just smile at him and jab him in the ribs like he always does to me.

As we get back to the house, I follow Alexander to the pool. He smiles at me as he tosses back a bottle of water. There’s mischief in his eyes, meaning he’s up to something, and I’m gazing at him curiously, waiting for whatever it is.

Then, with a playful smirk, he nods toward the pool house. “Look over there.”

“What?” I glance toward the mural, wondering what exactly I’m supposed to be staring at.

Then, I turn back toward Alex in time to see his pale, white ass moments before he dives into the water. His jogging shorts lie discarded on the pool deck, next to his shoes.

The gulp of water I just took sprays out of my mouth.

“Oh my god, Alex!” I spew. There’s not much privacy in this neighborhood. I can see directly into his house from my room, so it’s easy to assume other people can see him jumping stark naked into his pool.

He laughs, another hearty chuckle that lights up my heart. Beneath the water, I can just make out the blurry sight of his whole body, including the dark patch of hair at his groin.

“You’re out of your mind,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Better than a shower, rain cloud. Your choice.” He splashes me from the edge of the pool.

“You expect me to do that?”

“Why not?”

My head tilts at him as I try to work out his angle here. Is he trying to make his life harder? We can barely resist each other as it is—I can only imagine what being naked together will do.

I bite my lip, looking around at the neighbors’ yards. The trees still have most of their leaves, so I know my mother and sister can’t see over, unless they’re in my room and even then, it’s sparse.

No one in their right mind would pass up skinny dipping with Alexander Caldwell. And I do not back down from a challenge.

So, after downing the water bottle and dropping it on the table, I kick off my sneakers, peel off my socks, and pull my tank top off, leaving me in just my sports bra. He turns around, as if he’s going to cover his eyes as I let my jogging shorts drop to the ground before sitting on the edge of the pool. I feel so exposed, the bare skin of my ass on the warm ground as I dangle my feet in the water. Last, I pull up my sports bra as I sink into the water.