Page 86 of Inside the Sun

And for the first time, I see him in nothing but tight speedos.

Holy hell, what a sight. I can't help thinking: playing the harp felt like it was just for him, but this? This swim feels suspicious.

Is he doing this on purpose? Is he trying to seduce me, like a mantis luring me in?

Wait. Did I really forget my suspicions already? That this might be a test from Anzo? Am I really that easy, flying straightinto the flames like a goddamn moth? But after a second, I decide it’s not very likely he’s testing me. Still, maybe that’s just wishful thinking…

Sun raises his arms to tie his hair into a golden bun high on his head.

His body is smooth, except for the bruises on his ribs and hip.

I stare at his slim waist, at the perfectly carved abs, and for one dangerous second, I imagine myself dragging my tongue across that orange-scented skin…

For fuck’s sake, I need to focus on mowing.

Grass, grass. Touch the grass!

I repeat it over and over in my head, trying to push through the unwelcome tightness in my pants.

Then Sun turns his back to me, and… yes, he definitely knows what he’s doing. His speedos are cut in a way that perfectly shows off his ass, with both round cheeks peeking out from underneath. For a moment, two conflicting thoughts fight in my brain:

One, maybe Anzo gets to bury himself between those golden cheeks every night.

And two, I want to be the one in that spot.

These thoughts are messed up. So wrong! I’ve never been the kind of guy to go after someone else’s lover.

But my eyes? That’s a whole other story. They tend to wander where they shouldn’t… ready to ‘slip in’ between people. Or cheeks.

Wrong! Six years younger, remember, Ragnar!

Sun dives into the pool. And I think about diving into—okay, enough of that!

I take a deep breath and tear my eyes away, trying to focus on the thrilling plain of the lawn. If anyone’s watching us rightnow, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice how often I keep glancing in his direction.

I’m risking my mission more and more, drooling over this boy like some depraved creep, while Summer and Moon are suffering?! What kind of brother does that make me? What kind of horrible soldier?

I swallow hard and glance at the wall of the building. I know there are several cameras watching the garden. The question is: how often does anyone actually review the footage? If ever. I stupidly hope no one notices anything. Though honestly, I think it’s mylower braindoing the risk assessment right now.

This question keeps bothering me, circling back: Am I really some kind of sick pervert?

He’s eighteen! He looks mature, but that’s a terrible excuse. He’s still a teenager, and I’m twenty-four! That’s fucked up.

That thought is increasingly unbearable, so I try even harder to look away, to stop watching him swim on his back, stretching himself out like that, fully exposed to my gaze.

Frantically, I keep mowing, cutting, pushing through my frustration, and finally, Sun rises from the water.

And once again, I can’t help but soak in the sight.Sun-rise.Sounds so… fuck.

His wet body glistens gold in the light, water droplets sparkling across his skin like he’s something magical, something unreal, not meant for the world of ordinary people.

God, this beautiful boy is trapped with Anzo…Hello, Ragnar!Just like Moon was. Just like Summer still is. You should be thinking about your brothers, not sporting a hard-on for some hot young alpha!

Madness. I have to make a choice.

Sun steps out of the pool and, without even grabbing a towel, walks straight toward me.

I glance around nervously, half expecting Anzo to jump out from behind the hedges.

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