I look toward Dom, who’s standing there like none of this is out of the ordinary, his expression calm, almost bored, like he’s just waiting to see how far it goes.
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” I say, my tone flat, as I glance at him, already knowing the answer.
He only gives a careless shrug, like the whole thing doesn’t concern him in the slightest.
“Shouldn’t have left us alone,” he replies, carrying that same careless edge, like this is nothing more than a passing moment.
I let out a quiet breath, rolling my eyes.
Jesus fucking Christ. Unbelievable.
Sierra’s struggling only gets worse, her movements turning more frantic by the second, and that’s where I draw the line. Without wasting another second, I dive into the pool, cold water closing around me as I cut straight toward her, already reaching for her before she disappears beneath the surface.
By the time I get to her, terror has already taken over completely, her movements turning weak and erratic as she struggles to stay afloat. I don’t waste another second before grabbing her and pulling her against me, keeping her head above the water.
“I’ve got you,” I say, my tone firm and steady.
She clings without thinking, her fingers gripping into me as I guide us back to the edge, lifting her out of the pool and onto the nearest lounger without wasting time.
She’s shaking, her breathing quick and uneven as she tries to steady herself.
I grab a towel from the side and wrap it around her shoulders before crouching in front of her, pushing her wet hair back from her face in a slow, careful motion that doesn’t come as naturally as it should.
Her hands are cold when I take them in mine, her fingers curling instinctively around my hand as her eyes lock onto me, wide at first, then softening into something else entirely as she focuses on me, on the rhythm I’m forcing her into.
For one quiet moment, it’s just us. The fear drains out of me, replaced by something quieter, something far more dangerous, and the thought slips in before I can stop it.
Fuck…
This woman is perfect.
She always has been.
If she hadn’t done what she did ten years ago…
A scoff cuts through the moment from across the room, lazy and completely out of place.
“Oh, come on… how dramatic can you two be?”
Sierra stiffens beside me, the shift immediate as the fear burns off and something sharper takes its place, her attention whipping toward him as she pushes herself up from the lounger, the towel slipping slightly as anger takes over.
“You almost killed me, you idiot!” she spits out between rough breaths that still echo loudly through the room.
Oh shit… She shouldn’t have said that.
Dom’s expression doesn’t change much at first, but his eyes do—something darker settling in them as he looks at her—that calm from earlier slipping into something tighter, more irritated, like her reaction got under his skin more than he expected.
For a moment, neither of them moves, tension stretching so tight through the room that it feels seconds away from snapping, and I don’t stick around to see how it ends. I step in, closingthe distance and placing myself between them, lifting my hands firmly to make it clear this stops here whether they like it or not.
“Enough,” I say, keeping my tone controlled, the kind that doesn’t invite arguments. “Both of you, tell me what happened.”
“What happened?” Sierra cuts in before I can even finish, irritation sharpening the words while the last traces of panic still linger underneath. “Your brain-dead student has no manners and clearly doesn’t understand personal space… or the concept of keeping his hands to himself.”
Dom closes the distance with a low laugh, stopping just beside us, though there’s nothing playful about it this time. Something harsher slips through as he focuses on her again.
“Relax,” he says, his voice quieter now, but heavier, the kind that carries more weight than if he had raised it.
His eyes drag over her slowly, from head to toe, taking his time like he’s assessing every detail, every inch, before finally settling back on her face.
