Rowan Page 13

  He swaps seats with Charlie and we set up the game. We’ve barely begun when a new presence comes out through the backdoor and marches over. Simon rocks up at the table and, as per usual, doesn’t take anybody else into account when he interrupts my move in a demanding tone.

  “So here you all are,” he says irritably. “I was expecting you to come knocking on my door, Raven. I assumed you’d let me know when I can swap.”

  “You can’t,” I answer dryly, moving my counters along the board.

  Suddenly he’s bent down and his hot breath is in my profile.

  “What?”

  “Back off,” Rowan growls at him, and Simon subconsciously shuffles back a bit.

  Enough, so I can turn my face to look at him without almost having to kiss the spittle off his chin.

  “I spoke to Rothman and we cleared up a few misunderstandings. Like, that he doesn’t interfere in my job and I don’t interfere in his. As I said before, Simon, house allocation is my responsibility. And I say, you are staying here. Too late in the day to change it. Now can I get back to my game, please?”

  He straightens up with a sharp intake of breath, and I half expect him to stomp away like a toddler but, to his credit, he doesn’t. He stays a few moments longer and watches Rowan and me play before he quietly withdraws back into the house. Probably to write a letter of complaint to HQ or some shit like that.

  Let him. I have faith in my bosses. They’ll treat it as what it is: part of his healing process. He needs to let go of his control freakishness. Not that that is an official term. But he still hasn’t got a grasp on the fact that here he is not the big controller. He’s just an addict in treatment with a bunch of other addicts.

  But he still puts my teeth on edge, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief once he’s gone.

  I watch Rowan’s fingers move counters along the board.

  Fingers that only two nights ago were plunged deep inside me.

  The thought catches me off guard and I feel heat pooling in my belly. I look away from his hands. And straight into his eyes.

  A small smile plays around his lips.

  The ass knows exactly what I am thinking.

  He hands me the dice and the subtle touch of his skin sends me into a tailspin of desire.

  “Your turn,” he says.

  Rowan

  The house settles into a new routine over the next few days.

  I stick to my resolution and keep out of Raven’s room, though it gets harder with every moment I spend in her company. And I spend a lot of time in her company.

  That’s our silent trade off. No more sexual gratification but we get to be...friends. For real.

  We spend every minute that isn’t taken up by therapy for me or work for her together. Always in view of other people, often with the rest of our house. And by default, it glues all of us together more. I learn stuff about Charlie and Tristan and Simon that I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the pull this woman has on me.

  Simon gradually mellows the fuck out somewhat, and once he does, he’s actually okay to be around. I learn that he really, truly loves his wife and kids. As he gets more and more nervous towards halfway day and seeing them, he stops talking about them as if they were commodities and more like they are actual people. There might be hope for that cunt yet.

  Charlie, it turns out, was terrible at school and has a massive chip on his shoulder because of it. He doesn’t think his parents are gonna show up at the weekend and he pretends he’s not sorry about it.

  Tristan is the son of a single mum who never let him out of her sight before this. As I listen to him talk about their weirdly symbiotic relationship, I secretly think it’s no wonder he wound up addicted to online gaming. She wouldn’t allow anything outdoorsy. No parks, no bicycles, no swimming.

  He still can’t swim.

  He had the obligatory swimming term in primary school but never managed to get past doggy paddling. So I offer to teach him. It’s a fucking life skill. We live on an island.

  He refuses at first but when Raven promises she’ll come along, too, he reluctantly changes his mind. He says he’s embarrassed in front of the other guests, so I use my in with Alan Allsorts to secure a private evening slot for Tristan’s lessons.

  The gym and pool shut at 9pm every night, but after some negotiation, Alan agrees that we can use it afterwards for an hour. He’s greatly reassured once he hears that Raven will be there to provide medical assistance if need be, but he still makes me promise to stay by Tristan’s side every step of the way and makes me swear that I know my rescue hold before he is satisfied enough to give me the key to the gym. By the time he finally slips it into my hand, I feel like this is a proper badge of honour.

  “I’ll put a Private Lesson in Progress sign on the door for you when I leave,” Alan says and looks at Raven, Tristan and me as we stand by the side of the pool on Thursday night, after he’s given us the last instructions about how to turn the lights off and the alarm on. “Just in case people see the lights on and think they can walk in. I doubt it, though. Hardly anyone comes after dinner. It’s usually just Elias. But he’s been and gone tonight. Sometimes you get the odd guest but not out of this lot. Just post the key through my letterbox when you’re done. Have a good evening.”

  We bid him the same and then he’s off, the door closing softly behind him.

  Tristan looks at the water, terrified.

  “I’m not sure this was such a good idea,” he stammers.

  “Don’t be silly,” Raven says and starts stripping herself out of her jeans.

  She’s clearly got her swim stuff on under her clothes already, because I doubt she’d strip off in front of Tristan otherwise. I haven’t seen her in anything but her tunic since this Sunday’s lunch in the pub, when she rocked one of her dresses again, and I realise I relish the prospect of ogling her in some skimpy bikini more than is good for my sanity. But when she pulls the tunic over her head, what she reveals is far from skimpy.

  It’s so much sexier than that.

  It’s a full cover all, and then some fifties retro style, polka dot number with a fucking skirt. She looks like Jane Russell and Elizabeth Taylor had a love child who made off with Marilyn’s wardrobe. Tristan and I swallow in sync and I can’t even blame the kid.

  “Right,” I say, clearing my throat, and look at Tristan. “Let’s get changed and showered before we go in, right? Cold is good. Makes you freeze less in the pool.”

  Raven unashamedly grins at us.

  “You go, guys. I showered before I changed, I’m hopping straight in,” she informs us with a wink.

  A fucking wink!

  I’m so gonna murder her later. When nobody is looking.

  She turns her delectable butt towards us, making my cock remember how much he enjoyed being trapped between those buttocks. Then she dives straight into the pool and starts swimming. Not daintily, like those women who try not to get their hair wet, but properly, her head bobbing up and down as she slices through the water. She’s a strong swimmer and heaven help me if I don’t find that even more of a turn on. I’m rock hard in my jeans and somehow I need to cool it, so I can give the kid a lesson in how not to drown.

  While I watch Raven, Tristan turns towards the changing rooms and after another moment, I follow him. I take a few minutes behind closed doors to think of some stuff I’d really rather not revisit, and it does the trick. By the time I come out, my dick is behaving. For now.

  While I brought my black Speedo trunks with me to Purbeck ─ they’re part of my standard kit ─ Raven had to take Tristan shopping in Swanage for his. I guess the selection in his size, S for scrawny, wasn’t great because I can’t imagine he would have willingly picked the orange and black tiger stripe loose-cut swim shorts he is wearing when he comes out of the cubicle. They are hideous. But I don’t need to add to his nerves by pointing that out. He is visibly shaking, and that’s before our stint under the cold shower.

  When we approach the poolside, t
he terror on his face is undeniable, and I’m starting to wonder if this was really such a great idea. But then Raven’s face pops out of the water with a big, fat smile on it and I immediately change my mind. This was a great idea. Though maybe not for Tristan.

  She looks up at him and beckons him to the far side of the pool, which for some unfathomable reason was built to be the shallow end.

  “Hey, Tony Tiger,” she greets him with a purr. “Come to the other side. You can stand there. It’s only about five feet deep.”

  Tristan relaxes at that and starts walking around. Raven crawls across to meet us and when Tristan sits on the side of the pool to let his legs dangle into the water, she holds out a hand for him. He takes it and a surge of idiotic jealousy runs through me as he slides off his butt. Part of me screams it wants to be the kid who’s lured into the water by this sexy-as-sin polka dot siren.

  As if she can hear my thoughts, she smiles over her shoulder at me while Tristan gets his body acclimatised to the temperature in the pool and blows me a kiss behind his back.

  First a wink and now a kiss.

  The water seems to bring out a side of her that I’m seriously loving, and I hop in before my dick starts loving it a bit too much again, too. He just about succumbed to the ice-cold pre-pool shower and to the bunch of really unappetising thoughts I ran through my head, but he’d be only too happy to put away childish things and get back in the game. In actual fact, he already half is.

  I groan inwardly when I remind myself that that’s not what we’re here for.

  Then I put on my coach face and get to work.

  Raven

  I love, love, love swimming. As soon as I hit the water, I feel free in a way that I don’t get to feel anywhere else.

  It is the single only thing I share with my mom. Before the drugs took their toll, she was an ardent swimmer. Wherever we went, she would always scout out the nearest free public pool even before she’d scout out the cheapest takeout places.

  She taught me when I was so little that I can’t remember ever not being able to swim. When I think of that, I wonder if she might even have liked me as a baby and as a toddler. My mistake, I believe, was that I grew into a small person.

  And as soon as that small person grew big enough to escape her narcissistic web from time to time, I would disappear down to the local pool for hours. And nobody ever questioned the pale, way-too-young girl with the scuffs and bruises alone in the water.

  My heart breaks for her when I think of how invisible she was.

  But she’s not invisible now.

  Right now, she is a grown-ass woman in a dead sexy polka dot swimsuit who’s got to teach a kid to swim and, maybe, just for shits and giggles, drive the other instructor a little bit crazy with desire.

  I’m playing with fire and I know it, but I can’t help it.

  Almost six days of perfect restraint.

  Of bedroom doors that stayed shut and of being just friends.

  And I fucking well can’t take it anymore.

  Seeing him practically naked, in his skin-tight trunks that leave nothing to the imagination, doesn’t fucking help either. I’m mesmerized by all that big but supple muscle and by the python writhing around his torso with every move he makes, the jungle on his back.

  And he catches me looking.

  And he looks back.

  It leaves me in a strange heat, a compulsion to flirt with him that paints every bit of professionalism I’ve put between us over the last week a lie.

  I want this man.

  I’ve wanted him from the moment I first looked into his eyes.

  Half having him hasn’t quenched my thirst. The threat of losing my job and ending with massive debt hasn’t quenched my thirst.

  Getting to know him has made it worse.

  My heart starts beating erratically at the thought. It’s another fucking blurred line. I don’t do getting to know my fuck buddies. Ever.

  But he’s slowly but surely getting under my skin. I blame the close living quarters. Though I could choose not to spend as much time with him, of course. But us hanging out together has been good for the whole house and, really, who am I kidding? I gravitate towards him each free minute we have like a moth to the flame.

  “Earth to Raven,” Rowan waves a hand in front of my face. “You ready to roll?”

  I blush, I fucking well blush, because I didn’t hear a word of what he’s been saying.

  So far, he’s had Tristan show him what he can already do in the water. There was a pitiful doggy paddle to start off with. Then Rowan made Tristan kick water while holding on to the side, and after that he made him float on his back. Presently, the kid is figuring out how to stay afloat on his front with the help of a swim noodle while learning how to move his arms for breaststroke.

  He’s weirdly uncoordinated and the nurse in me wonders whether the overdevelopment of fine motor skills for gaming has somehow been to the detriment of his gross motor skills. It sure as shit looks like it.

  I look away from assessing Tristan’s present position and up at Rowan. Our eyes meet across the spluttering Tristan between us. There is the ever-present humor in Rowan’s dark brown gaze but also something else. Something I haven’t seen before and that makes me stand up taller and pay attention.

  Determination.

  Focus.

  For the first time since I’ve met him, I can see a glimpse of the fighter.

  And fuck me if that isn’t sexy as hell.

  Rowan

  I love this sassy water vixen version of her.

  I love the lust in her eyes, and I love that her nipples are poking holes through the fabric of her swimming costume.

  But we’re here to do a job.

  It gives me a warm surge when I see her recognize that, and she springs to action. For the next hour, we put aside the red-hot tension between us and work on Tristan.

  By the end of the session, the kid’s knackered out, but he’s made some progress. He can now do the breaststroke, with a woggle, across the breadth of the pool, which is not bad for a first lesson.

  I call it a day when my gaze falls on the clock on the wall and it tells me it’s way past the time Alan allocated us. Above us, the natural light that falls onto the water through the glass ceiling has faded to black, leaving only the poolside lights and a couple of harsh overhead neon strips to illuminate the building. Tristan stands up in the water and I clap him on the back, gently so as not to break his scrawny spine.

  “That was quite a leap, mate. Well done. Same again tomorrow?”

  He blows out an exhausted breath but nods.

  “Yeah.”

  Raven, who’s gone off to swim to the other end of the pool, climbs out and shouts across to us.

  “Stay where you are, guys. You need to see this.”

  She goes to the light panel by the door and switches everything off, bar the faint strips of emergency lighting at the bottom of the basin.

  “Raven? What the fuck?” Tristan exclaims in shock.

  It’s the first time I’ve heard him swear, but the only answer he gets is a giggle from her in the distance. Then she jumps back into the water and crawls back to us.

  “Sorry, but we gotta see this,” she says cryptically when she arrives by our sides then lets herself flop onto her back to float. “Oh, hell yeah. I’ve only seen this in the winter when it gets dark early, never in the summer and never with the lights off. Come on, guys, get on your backs.”