Picking up his towel, I hung it properly before doing the same with mine. Nerves skittered across my bare skin. I’d actually never used the condo’s pool facilities, and my dark surf-style bathing shorts were a few years old and felt tight over my glutes.

But Theodore had me beat in the tightness department. He turned on the shower, waving his hand through the stream of water before stepping under it.

“Why not just do Cats and make me wear a full face of whiskers makeup? Sure, I was still a junior, but it was beyond tacky. It’s like, there are other musicals in the world.”

Water ran down his body as he turned under the shower, the short bathing suit that looked like skimpy red boxer briefs clinging to his backside so tightly they could have been painted on. I’d been pointedly ignoring the bulge in the front of his shorts, and I ripped my gaze away as he faced me, still talking. I took my turn under the shower as he pressed the big red button that switched on the hot tub.

“Well?” He climbed down into the tub and watched me expectantly. “Have you seen it?” He hadn’t sat yet, the water swirling around his lean thighs.

Whatever it was, I probably hadn’t, so I shook my head.

“Oh my God, it’s seriously horrible but hilarious. We should watch it one night. Esmeralda will love it.”

I said, “Okay,” wondering why the idea of watching a movie or TV show or whatever it was he was talking about didn’t seem like a bad idea. It should have. It was a terrible idea. It was one thing to share coaches. I shouldn’t have been spending my evenings with Theodore.

I should have been asleep already or practicing bedtime yoga instead of sitting in the hot tub with him. I’d convinced myself this was an acceptable activity since it was a component of physiotherapy, which was vital to training.

I hadn’t considered that we’d be half naked. Three-quarters naked, more accurately.

He lowered himself into the water with a long, low moan.

“This is amazing.” He moaned again, closing his eyes. “Get in here.”

I did, because I was about to humiliate myself, and at least my groin wouldn’t be visible under the white water. I bit back my own groan. The heat really did feel wonderful. I stretched out my legs, brushing his calf and whipping back my feet.

He was talking, talking, talking, and laughing about something, and every flash of a smile made my arousal throb. His smattering of chest hair was wet and dark around his nipples, and my throat was dry…

For years after he’d smirked at my pubescent erection in the communal concrete shower room in Croatia, I’d resented him. Where was that lingering enmity now when I needed it? How had it vanished so quickly?

The more time I foolishly spent with Theodore, the less I hated him, and now I found the one emotion that had been so reliable for years had abandoned me. That irrational hate had fueled me.