(Clara’s POV)

The sun beat down on the backyard pool like it wanted to burn every secret out of me, but I welcomed the heat because it gave me the perfect excuse to wear the skimpiest bikini I owned—the one with the tiny triangles that barely covered my nipples and the bottoms that tied at the hips with strings so thin they could snap with one tug. 

I stood in front of the mirror in the guest room, adjusting the fabric so it clung just right, my perky C-cup breasts straining against the thin material, nipples already poking through because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ryan. Mr. Harlan. The...