I step forward so he’s pressed against the drenched lace that’s all I’m wearing. “I’m always sure.” Anticipation crackles and crinkles between us as the mood shifts to one I don’t usually associate with swimming. I trail my fingers through the droplets of water clinging to his chest, dragging the beads of condensation between his pecs and down along the ridges of his lower abdomen. The defined muscles ripple under my touch.

Beck hauls me against his tan torso, and I rub against the washboard texture brazenly, rewarded when I feel the hardened tissue contract against my stomach. I’ve seen a lot of fit, shirtless men. It sounds like a brag—and it’s definitely not a plight I’m unwilling to bear—but none of them had molded their bodies into the perfect specimen glinting in the sunshine before me.

I’ve seen Adler Beck shirtless before. In magazines. On social media.

But not in person.

Not up close.

Not against me.

Beck walks toward the shore as I cling to him like a spider monkey. Now that I’ve been introduced to his bare torso, I’m not super eager to be separated from it. With each step he takes, the water level drops farther, exposing more and more of my wet skin to the breeze soughing through the treetops. Beck sets me on the sandy shore, which is really half dirt and mixed with pine needles and leaf litter. He’s no longer having to hold me up, leaving his hands free to roam, so we could be lying on a heap of wood chips for all I care right now.

Beck rolls so he’s on top of me. The heat is welcome, tempering the wind that makes the water droplets coating me feel colder than when I was fully submerged. He slides down my body slowly, gliding lower effortlessly thanks to the moisture coating both our skin.

Once again, I know what he’s going to do before he does it, but that doesn’t make it any less spectacular. I spend his trip down to the apex of my thighs imagining what it might feel like to have Adler Beck go down on me.

For once, reality outshines fantasy.

His blond head hovering between my thighs is the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen. I let my legs fall open as I entwine my fingers in the soaked strands of his hair and lose myself to sensation. He feasts on me. Licks and sucks and swirls and teases. It feels decadent. Delicious. Obscene. I’ve never been shy in the bedroom, but this isn’t a bedroom. This is the German wilderness, and this isn’t an overeager jock. This is Adler fucking Beck electrifying frissons of ecstasy.