The Pool Boy Read online Nikki Sloane (Nashville Neighborhood #2)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Nashville Neighborhood Series by Nikki Sloane
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
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Everything about him was enticing.

Maybe tonight when I was tucked in bed with one of my vibrating friends, I’d let myself indulge in a fantasy in the safety of my own mind. One where I seduced a younger man who happened to look a helluva lot like Troy Osbourne.

I sighed wistfully, then pressed my lips together and furrowed my brow. What was wrong with me?

I knew I should stop watching from my hiding spot in the window like a creeper, but I couldn’t help myself. There was something about the way his steady, sure hands gripped the pole that made me long to know what they’d feel like if they were holding me. How the sinewy muscles moved in his biceps and forearms as he lifted the dripping net from the water and swung it over to empty it in the rock landscaping beyond the edge of the patio.

What would he look like naked?

He’d probably look amazing. I felt feverish and uncomfortably tight all over as the image glanced through my mind.

Troy’s head lifted, as if he had somehow heard my wicked thought, and his focus abruptly veered toward me.

“Shit!”

I pivoted away from the window and crushed myself flat against the wall, desperate not to be caught. Once again, my cheeks burned hot with embarrassment. Why was I acting so stupid and immature about this? I wasn’t a teenager anymore.

He’d seen me topless, so what? This didn’t have to be a thing. What I needed to do was stroll out there with a casual, unashamed attitude. If I laughed it off and didn’t make it a big deal, it should put us both at ease.

I straightened from the wall and sucked in a deep, preparing breath.

Relax, Erika. He’s probably more uncomfortable than you are.

I needed to apologize. It got me to move toward the door, but didn’t help much with my wobbly legs.

By the time I worked up the courage to step outside, he had vanished. For a split second, I wondered if he’d already left, but there were still supplies left out by the pool. A vial of water sat on the table beneath the umbrella. One chamber was stained yellow and another blue, signaling he’d tested the water to maintain the right balance. He’d probably gone back into the pool house to get some chemicals.

I snatched up my phone that I’d abandoned on the lounger before marching across the stone pavers toward the pool house.

Since it wasn’t a finished space, there wasn’t air conditioning, and Troy had left the door open in a feeble attempt to keep the air circulating. It was sweltering inside anyway.

A single bulb hanging from one of the rafters in the ceiling lit the room, which had a small collection of pool floats on one side and a shelf on the other, where all the chemicals and supplies were typically stored. At the back, there was the door to the bathroom and a bare set of stairs leading up to the second story. That was where the folded pool cover was stored, along with boxes of Christmas decorations.

I’d expected Troy to be at the shelves, picking out what he needed, but he wasn’t. He was across the room, lingering beside the stairs. His sunglasses were propped up on his head and he stared at the hooks on the wall with a displeased expression smeared on his face, as if they’d somehow pissed him off.

I blinked with confusion, and the longer I stood there, the more it became clear he hadn’t seen me come in and wasn’t aware of my presence.

A hand reached inside my body and tightened its fist as realization swept through me.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, and ran a palm down the front of his body.

Because the fly of his shorts was tented.

Like he’d done when he’d caught me topless, I froze in place. It was physically impossible to do anything other than drag hot, humid air into my lungs and watch as he repeated the action.

If his intent was to make his erection go away, the brush of his hand had the opposite effect. Tortured pleasure twisted on his face as he glared at the wall. I wondered if he was mentally trying to make the blood flow in any direction other than his dick, but then surrendered.

His large hand closed over the front of his shorts . . .

And squeezed.

When he shuddered with satisfaction, his pleasure reverberated through my body. It tingled across my skin like electricity and sent my heart racing.

I’d never witnessed a more erotic sight than watching this boy tease himself. I was fascinated and mesmerized at the slow rub of his palm over the bulge.

Was there a chance he was thinking about me right now?

I couldn’t catch my breath, but then it became irrelevant. The wind outside gusted and sucked the door closed with a loud, abrupt slam, making his attention swing sharply in my direction.



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