Page 30 of Fly Boy
But don’t people pop boners all the time when getting a massage?
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, scraping a hand down my face before looking up, my attention snagging on a sign above my head.
I stalk forward, following the arrow to thegrotto pool,and push open the door. Pan flutes and warm air come flooding out of the room as I walk inside, the wall sconces barely giving any light to see around me. Eventually, my eyes adjust, and I spot three lounge beds near the poolside, the blue lights under the water rippling off the stone walls, shimmering on a rack filled with white towels.
I lift one from the pile, the fluffy material like butter, and carry it under my arm, setting it on one of the loungers before sitting on the edge of the pool. Dangling my legs in the water, I lower myself down into the warm pool, and I breathe a sigh of relief. No one is here to see my shame or witness my spiral. It’s just me and a slow-motion replay of that robe falling to the ground.
Shoving off the side, I duck my head under the water and start doing laps, noticing on my fourth one that there’s a break in the wall, hiding a doorway leading to what appears to be outside. It opens easily as I approach and swim into the cooler air. The night sky makes the underwater lights seem even brighter, the beams waving in time with each ripple I create as I move.
I’m alone. The entire place tidied away—parasols folded down, sun loungers missing cushions, side tables clear of any clutter guests might leave behind.
I turn onto my back and float aimlessly, staring at the sky as I drift toward the far end. It’s made of glass, creating the infinity effect, and I shift to my front, leaning my arms against the side, and look out at the vast forest around us.
Crickets chirp, the water trickles, and I feel at peace for the first time since stepping foot in this place. The tension disappears from my body, melting away with every breath I take. Finally, my head clears, and I try like hell to forget those sexy noises Pippa made.
I don’t know how long I stay here, eyes shut, listening to nature, but the rush of water cascading over the glass edge of the pool startles me.
Glancing over my shoulder, my heart damn near stops as I see Phillipa wading out from the door in the water, her head tilted up, lips parted as she regards the sky. Her long brown hair is tied up on the top of her head, loose and messy, with strands wisping around her shoulders, looking like she’s been freshly fucked.
My mouth dries, my skin buzzes, and my brain short circuits. What the fuck? I like that look more than I should. And worse, I wish I could see it for real.
She lowers her gaze, smiling politely, like she’s only just realized she’s not alone, before doing a double take. “Holy shit, Wyatt, is that you?”
Her eyes are wide and alight with a mixture of disbelief, shock, intrigue… You name it, she’s probably feeling it. I can tell what she’s thinking right now because no one ever expects what they see when I take off my clothes.
Her gaze travels down my upper back, sweeping across every inch of my skin that’s more ink than creamy flesh. She licks her plush pink lips before sucking the lower one between her teeth, a slight crease on her brow as she slowly cuts through the pool, coming closer.
I stand, turning in the water that’s shallow enough at this end for it to reach my hips. I can see, more than hear, her gasp as I reveal more of myself to her. My chest is like my back. My entirebody is like my back, covered with colorful and monochromatic art from my collarbone all the way to my ankles.
“Not what you were expecting, right?” I say, itching my neck, the silence and scrutiny of her stare setting me on edge.
“Holy shit,” she whispers again, reaching out like she’s going to touch me but stopping short before she does. “You're beautiful.” Her eyes do another intake of my ink, bouncing from design to design until she blinks. She works on a swallow, her gaze locking onto mine before lowering to my front again. “I mean, your art, your skin…” She sucks in a ragged breath. “Wow.”
I’ve had a lot of compliments from women whenever they’ve seen my tattoos. Hell, even the odd man who’s caught a glimpse in the gym has admired them, but the way Phillipa looks at me like she’s cataloging every piece…it’s different.
Something primal wants me to puff out my chest, show off like a peacock, parade around like some show pony.
“Can you turn around?” she asks, and I quirk an eyebrow. “I want to see your back again.”
This is inappropriate, a voice inside my head warns, but I find myself spinning for her all the same. I rest my arms out wide on the pool's edge like before but stay standing, allowing her to see me.
The cool night air nips at my skin and water droplets land on my back before I feel her finger press against the one under my shoulder blade. I fight to suppress a shudder as her nail scrapes down the faded image of a robin, the color a lot lighter than the others surrounding it.
“That was one of my firsts,” I tell her, the words slipping easily from my lips as she moves on to another. “My grandma was obsessed and doodled them on anything she could. After she died, I found one of her drawings when helping my dad clean her apartment and got it made into a tattoo.”
“That’s sweet.” I can hear her smile even though I can’t see it. She pushes on an area of skin near my spine—an eagle chasing a jet. “What about this?”
“I got that not long after I graduated. The eagle is meant to symbolize power…freedom. Whereas the plane is for adventure…ambition…” I shake my head as a smile plays on my lips. “I guess freedom, too.”
She chuckles before continuing her path. “How did you know that was the one I was talking about?”
Each brush of her hand is like lightning, a conduit for things I can’t think about—things that would be far too easy to do if I were to spin, reach out, and grab her. We’re walking a tightrope high above the clouds, both of us starting on opposite ends, teetering on a wire that suspends over a dangerous unknown.
Instead, I drop my arms and slip away from her, water flowing around my waist. “I know what tattoos are on each and every part of my body.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait,everypart?”
I smirk, not answering her question. She barks a laugh, kicking her long, slender legs off the ledge of the pool, careening backward, the back of her head fully submerged, her chest pushed out of the pool.
