My Secret Deal 6

Jake Roberts was naked.

Like, Greek-god-carved-from-marble kind of naked. Standing waist-deep in the lake like he belonged there — smug, glistening, and very much enjoying the fact that I couldn’t stop looking.

I tried not to. Really, I did.

But my eyes betrayed me.

They traced over his chest, those sharp V-lines, the way water slid down his abs. And then—
I saw it.

Thick. Veined. Heavy.

My entire face combusted. I whipped my head away so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.

Jake’s low chuckle echoed across the water. “You okay over there, Waters?”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

I wanted to scream. Or throw a rock at him. Instead, I stood frozen on the shore, hoodie still clutched around me like armor.

“Five minutes,” Jake said casually. “Then I’m leaving your cute little rule-following ass here.”

I turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” he smirked. “You’ve got four minutes now.”

I glanced around. No one in sight. Just the trees, the cabin, the lake, and one arrogant, sinfully hot idiot waiting to ruin me.

“Turn around,” I muttered.

“Nope.”

“Jake!”

“Three minutes.”

I groaned, face burning as I grabbed the hem of my hoodie. I pulled it up an inch. Then stopped.

“This was supposed to be me doing something for me,” I snapped. “Not stripping in front of some annoying playboy with a god complex.”

Jake just shrugged. “You’ve got two minutes.”

I cursed under my breath.

And then I did it.

One piece at a time. Hoodie. Tank top. Bra. Shoes. Socks. Shorts. Panties.

I stood there, naked and shivering, trying to shield my chest with one arm and my dignity with the other.

Jake turned.

His eyes raked down my body slowly, and his mouth quirked — not in amusement, but something… darker.

Heat surged up my neck.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I said through gritted teeth.

He didn’t say a word, and dove into the water with a clean, powerful motion.

I stood on the edge, arms wrapped tightly around myself, wondering for the millionth time how I got here.

Yesterday, I was crying alone.

Today, I was naked. With Jake Roberts. In the woods.

What is my life.

I watched the ripples across the water, my heart pounding like a warning.

I wanted to feel something. Challenge myself. Be brave.

Now I was wondering if I was just insane.

Jake floated on his back, arms out. “Getting cold out there.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t shut up, do you?”

“Only when I’m impressed.”

“Oh, great. Something to look forward to.”

“You coming in or what?”

I hesitated. And he saw it.

“You’re scared,” he said simply. “That’s cute.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I am not scared.”

“Then prove it.”

That did it.

I didn’t think. I didn’t wait.

I just ran forward and dove in, water crashing around me in a cold, violent hug.

Jake swore behind me, clearly caught off guard.

The water was freezing. My breath caught in my chest as I gasped, limbs flailing in panic.

“Jake!” I squealed, kicking toward him.

In seconds, his arms were around me, strong and warm and steady.

I clung to him like a koala, arms and legs wrapped around him, chest heaving against his.

His hands slid to my lower back, holding me still.

“Easy,” he said near my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Our faces were inches apart. The air between us buzzed like electricity. I stared into his eyes — all storm and shadows — and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

And then I felt it.

His cock.

Against my ass.

Hard. Real. There.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, pushing off him with a squeak.

He let me go, but not before his hand skimmed my waist one last time, lingering just long enough to make my stomach flip.

I swam for the shore, cheeks burning, heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

This was not how skinny dipping was supposed to feel.

And Jake Roberts was definitely not safe for my heart.