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It brings things to a grinding halt. Emphasis on the “grinding.” With his body pressed against mine, the miniscule amount of fabric covering me really does feel like nothing. Especially when I feel the hard length of him against my inner thigh.
Yakov’s eyes are dark. He’s staring down at me like he’s starving. Like I’m the only thing he has been craving.
I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.
“Checkmate,” I say, my voice shaking.
“You think I can't still get you wet?” he says in a deep rumble.
Holy hell. Either that’s a doozy of a double entendre or my brain is filthy.
“Not without soaking yourself, too.”
He smirks and I feel the heat of it in my toes, my fingertips, everywhere.
“Oh, solnyshka… that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
Then Yakov turns and jumps in the pool.
We hurtle through the air for what feels like forever, but I’m snug against Yakov’s chest. Even when we crash through the water, he doesn’t falter. We sink down together and rise up quickly, his arms still wrapped tightly around me.
When we reach the surface, I don’t even have time to inhale before Yakov’s mouth is over mine.
His hand curves around my neck. Possessive, brutal. He parts my lips with his tongue and slides deep. It’s like I’m still underwater. Like I’m sinking in him, happy to drown in this.
He tugs on the tie around my neck and my flimsy bikini top falls. Yakov brushes his thumb over my ribs, shifting higher with every stroke. If he keeps getting me hot and bothered like this, the pool water is gonna start boiling.
His hand slips to the tie at my hip and pesky reality breaks through.
“The guards,” I breathe, pulling back to look at him. “You said the guards?—”
“No one is watching. My men know better.” He sucks on the soft curve behind my ear while his hands knead my ass.
“But… you said there were guards watching me.” He walks me to the edge of the pool and pins me between the tile wall and his body. The brush of his cock against my inner thigh makes it hard to think. “I thought I was under ‘constant surveillance.’”
His voice goes hoarse. “You are. But I warned all of them what I’d do if they looked at you for any reason other than what was strictly required for protection.”
“You told them not to look at me?”
“They were probably breaking their necks trying to look away when you walked outside wearing this.” He undoes the tie around my back, freeing me of the top entirely.
“Why?”
He knows exactly what I mean. Why would he do that? Why would he bother to tell his men not to look at me?
“Because,” Yakov explains, massaging his hands up my thighs until his thumbs stroke the last thin strip of fabric covering me, “no one else gets to enjoy what is mine.”
I want to tell him I’m not his. Actually, I want to want to tell him that. The reality is that every word out of his mouth is one more nail in the coffin of my dignity.
At least it died for a good cause. A good-looking cause, rather.
“How do you do that?” I whisper. “You say things like that… Things that should terrify me. But instead, they just…”
His thumbs circle higher, closer. He’s sweeping over my slit, dragging delicious friction over my clit. “Just what?”
I lick a drop of water from his neck and press my lips to his ear. “They make me really, really wet.”
A growl rumbles through his chest. He tugs my bottoms to the side and presses the tip of his dick to my entrance. “I know what you want, Luna. And you know only I can give it to you.”
