So I strip.
Like—stripstrip. I kick off my shorts, toss them over the balcony railing with a dramatic flourish, and shout, “CATCH OF THE DAY!” before launching myself forward and cannonballing into the water like the menace I am. It crashes around me, cold and clean and fizzy against my skin, and when I surface I’m laughing hard, hair plastered to my forehead, lungs burning, heart hammering like a drum solo that’s gone completely off the rails.
I twist in the water and grin up at him. “Coach Kade,” I slur, voice sing-song. “You gonna join me or just stand there withyour arms crossed looking like a really hot bodyguard in a mafia porno?”
Damian raises a brow. He’s still fully dressed, leaning against the railing with a glass of something expensive in his hand, smirking like he’s above it all.
“Water’s fine,” I call, kicking back and floating on my back. “Cold enough to sober me up but not so cold I can’t makequestionable decisions.”
“Youarea questionable decision,” he mutters, but he sets the glass down.
I catch the movement—his hand going to the hem of his shirt—and I swear to god, it’s like watchingporn in real-time.The shirt goes up, revealing that stretch of muscle and ink and scars I’d recognize blind, and then the shorts drop and I let out a high-pitched,“WOO!”like I’m at a concert for the hottest bastard alive.
He walks to the edge of the pool, naked and gleaming in the low light. The moon outlines every inch of him in silver.
I doggy-paddle toward the deep end, water lapping at my chest, my voice dropping low and hungry as I call to him. “Come on, Cap. Make a splash.”
He doesn’t cannonball. He dives—clean and sharp and effortless, slicing into the water like a blade and barely making a sound, like the pool wanted him, like it opened up and saidyes, please, wreck me. I’m still blinking, still processing, when he surfaces beside me, hair slicked back, water streaming down his face in a way that looks obscene and holy all at once, like a sin-drenched soap ad built entirely out of my worst daydreams.
I just stare at him, stunned. “You’re so hot it makes me angry.”
Damian smirks and swims closer, calm as ever. “You’re so drunk you’re quoting Cole.”
I splash him without thinking. “Take it back.”
He catches my wrist mid-motion, grip firm and unyielding. “No.”
Our bodies brush in the water. Skin on skin, warm despite the chill. I float closer until my legs tangle with his, my chest pressed to his in the soft glow of pool lights and starlight andwant.“You ever skinny dipped before?” I whisper, voice low against his ear.
He huffs, unimpressed. “Not unless the locker room showers count.”
“Oh my god, what a virgin—”
He bites my shoulder.
I shriek, sharp and startled, and I don’t even register that I’m moving until I’ve already got him backed up against the far edge of the pool, warm tile pressing into his back while the water closes around us. I crowd in close, the weight of my body pinning him there without force, all pressure and intent instead of speed.
I cage him in, palms braced on either side of his head, water rippling between us as I lean closer and let the grin curl slow and dangerous across my mouth. “Coach…”
His gaze drops to my lips, then snaps back up like he’s warning himself. “Pup.”
But I see it anyway—the twitch he can’t stop, the brief flutter of his lashes, the subtle shift of his hips like he’s already bracing for whatever I’m about to do next.
My fingers trail down between us, smooth and slow under the water. I find him hard—already. Or still. Fuck if I know. Doesn’t matter. I wrap my hand around his cock andsmirkwhen he groans. “I was wondering…” I murmur, voice syrupy and low, “…what the penalty is formanhandlingthe captain.”
Damian huffs out a breath. “You are the captain now.”
“Exactly.” My grip tightens just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. “Means I get tohandlewhoever I want.”
“You areso drunk,” he grits out, but his voice is starting to break. His head tips back against the edge of the pool. Moonlight spills across his throat and his hands twitch at his sides.
I drag my thumb over the head of his cock, feel the way he shudders. “Maybe I’ll just call this a training session.”
“Training for what?”
“How to make my husband come so hard he sees God.”
Hemoans low and helpless. And I lean in close, lips brushing his jaw. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
