Page 131 of Vicious Temptation

Thiago doesn’t ask why or give me the same confused look I get from people when I try to explain it. He just nods, as if needing constant sound to quiet my own head makes perfect sense to him.

This place works the same way for me. The city is always moving from up here, filling the night with cars, sirens, music drifting from open windows, and hundreds of conversations I’ll never hear clearly. There’s always something for my brain to latch onto, which keeps the rest of the chaos from getting too loud.

“Thank you,” he says, his thumb tracing over my knuckles. “For sharing this with me.”

“Your lake for my pool.”

We stop talking again, but this time, my attention doesn’t drift back to the skyline. I find myself listening to his breathing, feeling the steady warmth of his body behind me and the subtle rise and fall of his chest against my back.

Usually, having someone this close only gives my brain one more thing to process, but with Thiago, it’s different.

Most people add to the noise already crowding my head. Somehow…he quiets it. I’m starting to understand why sitting beside him at the lake felt the way it did. It wasn’t the water or the city’s absence. It was him. Thiago feels like quiet, and I’m not sure when that stopped being something I wanted to avoid.

“Are you ready to eat?” I ask before I can think too hard about what this all means.

“I am.”

There’s enough hunger in those two words to send heat crawling beneath my skin, and I’m pretty damn sure the food in that bag has nothing to do with it.

“Thiago—”

My feet suddenly leave the ground, and I gasp as the city tilts behind him. He lifts me away from the railing and tucks me securely against his chest.

“Come here, fera.”

“Braga, what are you doing?” I ask as he backs toward the pool, clearly up to something.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“My panties were just starting to dry.”

His arms hold me closer as his heels reach the edge. “You won’t need them.”

My nails dig into his shoulders, and my thighs press against his hips. The smug bastard knows exactly what saying shit like that does to me.

“Thiago, wait...”

He ignores me and steps backward into the pool, taking me with him. I shriek and throw my arms around his neck as the cold hits, and we disappear beneath the surface. When we come up, I’m sputtering and laughing while Thiago looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“You asshole.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just getting that lake water off us.”

I wrap my legs around his waist and push my wet hair away from my face. “Ever heard of a shower?”

“No time and no patience.”

He carries me to the underwater ledge, sets me down, then looks around the terrace. “You said no one has access up here?”

“No one,” I murmur, licking a droplet from my lip.

He steps closer, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of my top. “Good.”

That one word sends a shiver over me that has nothing to do with the cold water.

Thiago lifts my shirt slowly, peeling the wet fabric from my skin, then pulls it over my head and tosses it onto the concrete behind me.