But Ambrose’s hands haven’t moved.

“Sorry,” comes Quinn’s voice behind me. “I wanted a participation trophy too.”

“Guy hasn’t won a thing a day in his life.” Ambrose’s tone is teasing, but I feel a physical reaction take place. He’s suddenly hard as steel against me, and I wonder if I’m going to escape that pool with my pride intact.

“And on that note…” Quinn chuckles awkwardly. “…I think I’ll just go back into the house and find my own snack…”

I hear him get out of the pool.

My ears are buzzing, and my whole body feels like a live wire as Ambrose’s eyes read mine.

“We broke a lot of rules today.” He corrects himself. “You broke a lot of rules.”

“Are you going to punish me then?” I wrap my arms around his neck.

He groans. “Depends.”

“On?” I’m dying being this close to him again with all of the memories of our times floating between our wet bodies.

“Will you do it again?”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Good.” His lips brush across mine. “Neither can I.”

Chapter Thirty

Ambrose

I’m breaking all of my mom’s rules, all of my rules, all of the rules me and MB established on that damn fridge and then some.

But when someone tastes so good and so right, and you’re pressed against their wet body in a pool, what other choice do you really have but to dive in head first?

Her mouth opens to me so beautifully, even though I know I’m being too aggressive, too needy, which isn’t like me. Normally I’m the calm before the storm, but this girl makes me lose every perfectly calm thing about myself. I grip her ass with my hands and press her hard against the side of the pool.

She moves her hips against me lazily, making me feel like I’m seeing stars explode before my eyes and inside my body.

I can feel the heat between her thighs with my one hand; her drenched underwear is the only barrier we have. I shove them aside and slide my finger in deep. Her head falls back, hitting the concrete, her hair’s plastered to her face, lips parted, beautiful.

“Feel good?” I hook my finger and then pull it out. She squirms on me and unties the front of my shorts. I kick them off.

What are we doing? I mean, really, what are we doing?

The phrase repeats in my head when she grips me and again when I tug her underwear down to join my floating shorts.

This is complete madness.

We aren’t even friends, right?

We’re just… roommates.

Roommates.

Lonely, needy.

So much more.

She makes me forget about the hallway and find solace and heat in her kiss.

I grip her by the hips and press another kiss to her neck, then slide my mouth up toward her ear. “You want this?”

“Sometimes you need more than you want.”

I chuckle. “You tortured men in another life, I’m sure of it.”