Sun-Kissed - Frankie Love Page 0,3

kissing. She's rubbing him up and down. Not wanting to awkwardly watch them, I leisurely move through the water, under a bridge, to a more private location of the pool—a location that that couple probably should have headed but chose not to.

This pool is massive, it's like eight pools put together, and if you want something more discreet you could easily find it. No judgment though; hell, it's their spring break as much as it is mine.

I sit down on a step at the edge of the pool, thinking about that woman who was stroking the man she was with. Her hands were under the water, with me right there next to her. She didn't so much as blink in my direction. She was so caught up in the moment, so caught up in the man she was with—the man who was holding her at the waist and pulling her to his lap.

I exhale slowly, and then, realizing it's getting pretty damn hot out here, I start drinking my margarita as if it's water.

Okay, that's better, at least it’s better for a moment.

Because before I've had a chance to really cool down, the man who was looking at me earlier has walked over to this end of the pool. He's standing only a few feet away and my body is so piqued at his proximity that I fear I'll combust if he gets any closer.

Earlier, he was in a white button-down shirt with his shirtsleeves rolled up. Now his chest is bare, and he's in nothing but a pair of swim trunks.

His hair is dirty blond and a few soft curls fall into his face. The salty air is responsible for that I think, and I wonder what he looks like when he's in a suit and tie, all dressed up with somewhere to go.

The margarita must be working, because I take my time looking him over, not overthinking how much I'm staring at him. I eye his broad shoulders and his six pack, so firm and tight.

So, so tight.

I swallow, thinking about how tight I am...down there. How much I wish I weren't. How much I wish he...okay, it's time to get ahold of myself. My mind is headed to dirty places I've only ever read about.

"Do you mind if I—" he starts. Before he can finish I shake my head and tell him I don't mind.

I don't mind anything. And yet I don't even know what he wants.

"Do you need another drink?" He points to my empty glass.

I manage to reply with a yes, and with the literal snap of his fingers, a waitress arrives with another round of cocktails. I thank them both appreciatively and watch as the man hands the woman a hundred dollar bill. She returns his generosity with a light-hearted kissy face.

Must be nice. I certainly don't get those kinds of tips at parent-teacher conferences.

"Have you been to this club before?" he asks.

The idea that I've been here before is ludicrous. I couldn't fit in any worse if I tried. Which is funny, considering this guy looks like he was made for Miami Beach. He's tan and chiseled and obviously has lots of money. And I'm not just talking about the tip; he's the kind of man who has the confidence you only possess when you're loaded.

I know this how? Because it's the kind of confidence I've never actually had. I'm the kind of girl who has always worked hard: scholarships and part-time jobs during college. Now I live in a studio apartment and work as a guidance counselor at a public high school. Not exactly a lucrative career.

Still, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Helping people find themselves, working through problems, and being a shoulder to cry on is a privilege and I don't take my job lightly.

"I'll take that laugh to mean that no, you haven't been here." He steps into the pool and leans against the edge. "Though if you'd been here before, I'd certainly have seen you."

"You live in Miami?" I ask, sitting up straighter. My swimsuit may be conservative, but at least my breasts look flattering in this spandex.

"No, I live in New York. But I come here often."

I swallow because I live there too. But I can guess his borough is slightly different than the one in which I reside.

"So, you're here for vacation?" I ask. Looking around I see that no one's around us, now that the waitress has left, we are tucked away in a