Chapter 11
By the afternoon of the third day, Bradley loses interest in unpacking and decides to check out his pool instead. From the room upstairs I can see him through the window, dressed in the tightest bikini I’ve everseen, a bright shade of blue that should be illegal, the way it curves around his cock and ass. He has strong legs, a swimmer’s build, and I’m only halfway around the room on the second coat of paint—I still have a lot of work to do—but I can’t stop myself from drifting to the window, leaning out over the sill, and watching him as he fills the pool. Hose in one hand, the other on his hip, he doesn’t even know I’m there. I shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t watch him, I shouldn’tspy,but I can’t help it.