You weren’t supposed to be back here. The public pool was already closed, the last splash long gone, but the locker room lights still glowed faintly.

And there he was.

Billy Hargrove. Red whistle hanging loose around his neck, golden skin still wet from the shower, towel riding dangerously low on his hips. His curls were damp, sticking to his forehead, and he was leaning against the sink like he’d been waiting for you.

“You lost, sweetheart?” he asked, smirking as he looked you up and down.

You tried to act unaffected. “Pool’s closed.”

“So’s the locker room,” he said, stepping toward you, eyes dark and burning. “Guess that makes both of us rule breakers.”

He stopped in front of you, water still dripping from his chest, and reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You keep looking at me like that and I’m not gonna let you walk out of here without leaving a mark.” he said lowly.