by Nikki Sloane
“You suck,” she growled, picking up her water bottle off the floor and unscrewing the cap.
I smirked.
Once she’d finished recovering, the endorphins would kick in and she’d be pumped about finishing such a challenging workout. Meanwhile, I considered the fastest way to peel her out of her clothes as she drank her water. It’d been four months since the best night of my life—when she’d said she loved me—and my desire for her had only gotten stronger over that time.
She’d written me six new songs too. More than half the album would be her words. The rest of the songwriting had been collaborations between us, or with Stella. I couldn’t wait to release it.
“Did you finish packing?” she asked.
“I packed my guitar. Do I need anything else?”
I was joking, but she was not amused. We were on a flight this afternoon to L.A., where I’d meet up with Stella and shoot the music video for ‘Power.’ It’d be the first single, and the hope was Stella’s accompaniment would launch my debut record.
Erika’s voice turned seductive. “Well, as much as I like seeing you perform naked, you can’t. That show’s only for me.”
She strolled to me and stroked a hand over my bare bicep. Just her touch made lust coil in my body, which was a problem. My gym shorts did fuck-all to conceal a boner.
“Yes, I’m packed,” I said. It’d been easy because I’d barely finished moving into my new apartment and was sort of living out of a suitcase anyway. I spent a lot of nights at her place.
Last night, we’d fucked in her hot tub, the steam rising from our bodies into the cold winter air. Afterward, I’d tossed some shock into the water out of habit. She’d hired a new guy to take over maintaining her pool and spa, but he was married and in his late fifties, and she said she’d make sure she’d keep his schedule in mind whenever she got the urge to sunbathe topless.
“So, what you’re saying is,” she drawled, “you don’t need to rush home.”
Had my session not been enough for her? My tone was skeptical. “You want to work out some more?”
A sexy smile burned across her lips. “Kind of.”
Oh.
Well, I was down. I was always down with her. Since no one else was in the HITT room, I put my hand on her ass and squeezed until her eyes lidded with desire. My voice was low. “What’d you have in mind?”
I was expecting her to invite me back to her place, but I wasn’t thinking big enough. My girl was full of surprises.
“I’m thinking about the time you kissed me against the mirror.” She pushed her hands up under my shirt, setting her warm palms against my chest. “How we both wanted to do more, but didn’t have time.”
My laugh was sinful and my voice full of sex. “We got time now.”
“So,” her fingertips trailed along my abdominals, tracing every inch, “if I asked you to fuck me in the dressing room, what would you say?”
I grinned. “I’d say yes, ma’am.”
I’d always say yes to her.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading THE POOL BOY! Want more from the scorching hot Nashville Neighborhood series? Preorder THE ARCHITECT today!
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OTHER BOOKS BY NIKKI SLOANE
THE BLINDFOLD CLUB SERIES
It Takes Two | FREE
Three Simple Rules
Three Hard Lessons
Three Little Mistakes
Three Dirty Secrets
Three Sweet Nothings
Three Guilty Pleasures
One More Rule
The Blindfold Club Collection | Books 1-3 bundle
THE SORDID SERIES
Sordid
Torrid
The Sordid Duet
Destroy
SPORTS ROMANCE
The Rivalry
THE NASHVILLE NEIGHBORHOOD
The Doctor
The Pool Boy
The Architect
FILTHY RICH AMERICANS
The Initiation
The Obsession
The Deception
The Redemption
The Temptation
THANK YOUs AND FUCK YOUs
My husband is all the things. He’s my rock of support, the glue holding our family together, and the love of my life. Thank you for lifting me up when I was down and helping me get this book over the finish line.
Thank you to Nina Grinstead, Aubrey Bondurant, Rebecca Nebel, and Veronica Larsen for listening when I was struggling.
Thank you to my team of editors, Andrea Lefkowitz, Becky Barney, and Toni Rakestraw (and Lori Whitwam for her help connecting us) for working miracles under an impossible deadline and garbage drafts.
Thank you to all my readers, bloggers, and fellow authors. You are the bright spot in my day, which is desperately needed these days! Thanks for reminding me just how lucky I am I get to chase my dreams.
And lastly, fuck you to COVID-19 and the year 2020. Writing a book when the world was on fire really freaking sucked.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling author Nikki Sloane landed in graphic design after her careers as a waitress, a screenwriter, and a ballroom dance instructor fell through. Now she writes full-time and lives in Kentucky with her husband, two sons, and a pug who is more slug than dog.
She is a three-time Romance Writers of America RITA© Finalist, a Passionate Plume winner, a Goodreads Choice Awards semifinalist, and couldn't be any happier that people enjoy reading her sexy words.
Website: NikkiSloane.com
Goodreads: Nikki Sloane Author Page
Twitter: @AuthorNSloane
Facebook: Nikki Sloane
Instagram: nikkisloane
COPYRIGHT
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2020 by Nikki Sloane
Cover photography © DepositPhoto Images
Cover design © Shady Creek Designs
Beach Ball Edition
