I dive straight into the water. Ice cold hits me and I gasp as my head surfaces. The water is cold thanks to the snow melt coming from the mountain peaks, but it feels totally amazing. I dip and dive like a frolicking dolphin, knowing I look silly, but no one can see me. It’s only when I’m on my back treading water that I hear a sound which immediately makes my heart speed up.
I quickly swim behind the cluster of boulders and pray the vehicle I hear barreling down the almost non-existent dirt road will coast right on by.
No such luck.
The SUV screeches to a halt, spraying dry dust and rocks in its wake as it finally pulls up to the edge of the lake. I cringe. The last thing I want to see is a person and being totally naked is a huge disadvantage. I’m praying to a God I don’t believe in to use his “force” to make the person stay in the car or better yet put it in drive and speed away.
Lady luck is a bitch.
I watch when a guy gets out of the SUV. He’s well-dressed which is so out of character in this area that I can’t help but stare. Comfort clothing like jeans and t-shirts are the norm at this resort for both staff and visitors. Feeling a bit like a peeping Tom I can only watch as the guy totally strips. One minute he’s dressed for what looks like a business meeting and the next he’s in his birthday suit and let me just sigh with longing because it’s the best damn suit I’ve even seen.
Holy crap. The guy is a walking GQ model and while my nipples are cold because of the water they’re also now pebbled with longing because Mr. Handsome has woken up my dormant sexual hormones. The ones I swore to ignore after the last two guys I took to my bed.
Part of me is thinking, what should I do? Should I wave and say, “Hi. Mister, you’re not alone.” But since I’m as naked as he is I’m keeping my mouth glued shut. With any luck he’ll take a quick dip, dry off and leave within five minutes. In the meantime I’m not missing the show.
He’s got the perfect amount of chest hair. It’s dark brown and dusts his pecs while a darker line of hair travels straight down to his cock. A good girl wouldn’t look at that. Since I gave up good by the age of sixteen, I’m gawking. I can make out a large tattoo on his shoulder and I’m wishing I could see the detail of it better. He must work out because his abs are a six-pack, with nicely defined muscles and not too overdone, which some men these days go for.
Like me, he doesn’t hesitate. He dives straight into the cold and doesn’t break the inky surface for quite some time. When he does he shakes his head like a wild beast, runs a hand over his face and starts doing the breast-stroke to a small rugged island sitting prettily in the middle of the lake.
This is my chance and I take it. I sink back down into the water and only when my feet hit the shale rock on the bottom do I dare dart a look back to ensure he hasn’t changed his mind. He hasn’t. I quietly climb out of the lake. Ignoring the fact I’m soaking wet I somehow manage to get dressed in what I think must be my best time yet. Dressed is one thing but wearing wet socks in my new Nikes is downright gross. The soft spongy bottom of my sneaks immediately soaks up the water from my socks and instantly I’m cringing from the squishy feeling against my toes. My original plan had been to sunbathe for a good hour to get dry and work on my tan. I am now loathing the gorgeous man who made me resort to this and I know by the time I get back to the resort I will have ruined my new red sneakers all because he had to stop and go for a swim.
The irony that I had indulged in the same thing is no longer funny.
He’s still making his way to the island and curiosity that I should ignore takes hold of me.
My heart is beating so hard my chest hurts and breathing feels difficult, but I still slink toward his SUV. I eye the pile of clothing he’s left haphazardly on the ground. I’m sure I’ll regret my actions later, but second thought is hindsight. I grab his black boxers with a smile on my face and dash up the hill faster than I would have thought possible in my squishy, wet sneakers. It’s only when I’ve crested the other side, my breathing labored, that the smile I was holding back breaks free. Tucked into the back of my shorts are his briefs. I know what I did was childish, but I’m feeling too giddy to care as I make my way back to the resort.
Naughty girls come in last.
That is one of my father’s favorite sayings. I think coming from Greece he has a saying for anything and everything.
Well, screw you, Dad. Today this naughty girl scored big and she’s got the stolen goods to prove it.
CHAPTER TWO
Blake
What the fuck? Where are my briefs? Two minutes later I’m still shaking my head but resigned to going commando. I can’t believe an animal would take them and not trash my other clothes. Fucking weird.