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He squeezed me against him and huffed, burying his face in my neck for a moment before pulling back and continuing. “The short version is that there was a fire. A bad one. It was a miracle that no one was severely injured.”
I trailed my fingers down his scarred arm and let the question show on my face.
His lips pressed together in an almost smile. “It could’ve been a lot worse. Someone in one of my practical classes didn’t follow procedure, and things went to hell so fast. I’m not even sure what caused the initial spark, but it was only moments before the practice kitchen filled with smoke and flame and took my senses with it. I don’t remember much except the sleeve of my coat catching fire and burning through to my skin.
I inhaled sharply and grabbed onto him, wishing so badly I could erase the hurt. The trauma.
He must have been thinking along the same lines, because he held me against him and whispered, “Deep breath,” before taking us underwater again as if banishing the memory of the flames. We resurfaced on the opposite end of the pool, and he backed me up against the edge as we caught our breath.
I raked my fingers through his wet hair, wondering how he had become so precious to me so quickly as my gaze trailed down his body. “You know, I looked up the tattoos you told me about. The oak tree and the Nón lá. Am I saying that right?”
He nodded, and I smiled. “Can I see it again?”
He brought the tattooed arm between us, letting the water carry its weight. I traced the beautiful image with a fingertip, causing goosebumps to ripple up his forearm.
“Did you read the story of the goddess?” he asked, his voice husky as I stroked over the roots of the oak tree.
I frowned. “No. Most of what I read was about the general symbolism of the hat.”
He kept hold of me easily with one hand as he propelled us back into the middle of the water. “The short version of the lore goes that a beautiful goddess descended from the sky and saved the people from a massive flood with her hat and then taught them to grow vegetables and trees.”
“A protector. It’s clear that he was thinking of you when he drew it. It was always meant for you.”
Vinh’s gaze took on a new intensity as he studied me. He brought his arm out of the water, drops of saltwater falling to the surface as he traced the lines of my face. “I’ve been told recently that I don’t use as many words as I think I do, so I want to be clear with you, Bree.” He stroked down my face once more. “I want you.”
Giving me no time to process—let alone answer—he surged forward and took my lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue immediately seeking mine. I moaned, grasping at every inch of his slippery, bare skin I could find. As if determined to reinforce his words with actions, he caressed my skin in kind, stroke for stroke. His lips trailed down to my throat, and I threw my head back to give him better access, shifting my body down in the process and pressing my core against him. He answered with a groan that rebounded around the enclosed space as he met the rock of my hips with his own.
He suddenly pulled away with a growl and started walking us up the incline of the zero-entry ramp and straight out of the pool, the water that dripped from our bodies leaving a trail along the way.
I widened my eyes in question, and he smirked in reply, shrugging slightly.
“Science, Bree. That pool isn’t for us.” He shifted me further up on his waist and walked us to the table that held our things, then rumbled, “I may have also pictured Gladys and the rest of the ‘Babes of the Bay’ descending upon us at any moment.”
I started to laugh, but it turned to a shocked gasp when he smacked my ass.
“We’re going back to the boat, Bree, and that’s where I’m going to find out how wet you are. Yeah?” He emphasized the question with a squeeze of my ass that had me choking on my responding moan before lowering me to my feet.
I grabbed my shorts and shirt but made no move to put them on, lost in the memory of Vinh throwing that same rhetorical word at AJ.
And yeah, no. I didn’t even think I could make the short drive to the dock.
“Vinh,” I tugged his bicep, lowering his arm from where he was toweling off his hair, and let the need show plainly on my face.
He studied me for a moment and then found my hand, bringing it to his lips.
“Okay. I’ve got you, Bree.” He kissed my knuckles, grabbed the rest of our things, and led us out the door and into the freshly remodeled locker room where he had changed earlier. I’d already changed into my swim gear in the locker room directly after my final spin. He dumped our stuff onto the bench in front of the lockers and doubled back to close the door, the sound of the lock sliding shut piercing through the tension in the room.
When he turned back to me, his breathing was noticeably labored and his pupils blown, his swim shorts barely containing his hardness. I wet my lips and took a step forward, more than ready to touch him, but he intercepted my hand and tugged me toward the oversized showers. He pulled the frosted glass door closed behind us and turned on the water, giving it a moment to heat before guiding me underneath the spray. The feel of the clean, warm water was a nearly religious experience.
Once I’d sufficiently rinsed, I stepped aside and pulled Vinh under, letting him do the same. He tilted his head back into the water as I traced my hand lightly down his abs, following the trail of hair all the way to the band of his shorts. I paused there briefly before grasping his length through the material. He grunted, his hands shooting out to grab my hips as his eyes flew open—and then rolled back when I gave him a firm, drawn-out stroke.
He moved us both out of the bulk of the spray before leaning forward to kiss his way down my neck to my breasts, where he paused, his eyes meeting mine in question. I pulled my top to the side in answer, and he wasted no time in sucking the tip of my breast into his mouth. My lips parted on a silent gasp as I slid my hand down his front and then inside his shorts, the smooth hardness of his cock filling my hand. He groaned again, replacing his mouth with his hand, using the lingering wetness to draw tight circles around my nipple.
“Bree,” he rasped, dropping his forehead to mine.
That one word had me quickening my pace. More noises escaped his throat, and I answered them by pulling down the other side of my top. He took my newly revealed breast into his mouth as his other hand traced down my stomach and untied my bikini bottoms, sending them all the way to the shower floor in one swift movement. I stepped out of them, my hand pausing briefly on the crown of his cock as I nudged them aside with my foot.
Following his lead, I met his eyes as I pushed his trunks to the floor, making a mental note to not leave those behind.
