Page 96 of Any Port in a Storm

“It does get the heart beating.”

He smiles; tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. My pulse flutters in my throat, just inches from his hand.

“I figured we could kill two birds with one stone today—get some endorphins going to rid you of said stress, and also approximate the general aura of a beach vacation.”

“Hmm.” I scour the room, which is empty aside from a few shabby deck chairs and a very bored lifeguard. “This does give coastal vibes.”

“Right?” He leans back, dipping his hair in the water, then comes up dripping. Droplets sluice down his cheeks, his neck, his shockingly toned chest—it’s an enticing show that I’m struggling to ignore.

“So why not, like, running, or something?” I float onto my back and starfish my legs, staring up at the vaulted ceilings and hearing my voice echo its way back down.

Nick comes to float beside me. “It’s 35 degrees outside. I didn’t think you’d like that too much.”

“Plus, I’d never go jogging on my beach vacation.”

“That too,” he agrees.

We lie in comfortable silence for a moment, small ripples from each other’s movements connecting us like a two-way current. I let my eyelids flutter shut; focus on the feeling of the water playing on my bare midriff, on Nick’s wrist when it brushes mine.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” I say, sitting up to look at him.

He sits up, too. “Yeah, of course.”

“It was really sweet of you to drop all your plans to spend the weekend with me.” I’m aching with gratitude and the urge to reach out and touch him, half-naked in the water as we are. I’ve only seen Nick without a shirt on a handful of times, and it’s incredibly…distracting.

I guess he did warn me I’d thank him for that.

The low chuckle that slips from his throat isn’t helping matters. “My plans were to hang out with you regardless.”

I’m trying not to notice the way his eyes just slipped down to my mouth. The way he took a step closer. The way I want, with every fiber of my being, to put my hands on him.

“Oh?” I manage.

His gaze doesn’t leave my face. “Yep.”

“Why’s that?” I rasp.

“Because.” His lusty expression slides into a rakish grin. “I’m working toward alpha status in your harem. I need to ingratiate myself as much as possible.”

“Nicholas O’Connor!” I gasp, sliding a colossal wall of water his way. “I’m appalled!”

“Oh, please,” he laughs, grabbing my wrists so I can’t splash him again. “We both know you’d love it.”

“A gaggle of men doing my sexual bidding?” I lose my balance and fall into his chest. He’s still holding my wrists.

“No,” he says softly, our faces just inches apart. “Me being your alpha.”

My cheeks are flaming, and his are, too, long lashes downcast as he rubs his thumb along the back of my hand where it’s resting against his pecs.

I clear my throat, then lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I think we both know I’m the alpha here.”

“Mm,” he hums, his voice vibrating against my cheek. “You can be the alpha if you want.”

I’ve lost the thread of this conversation, which careened from tender to sexually charged and now has me desperately wishing we were alone in this pool.

“Thanks,” I manage shakily.

If this were anyone else—some other guy I was seeing—it would be obvious what was coming next. He’d slide his arm around my waist, and I’d melt into him, and then he’d use some sort of contrived pretext to lean closer and kiss me. I wouldn’t have to think; we’d just act. It would be fluid and natural and delicious.