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‘Hell, no. Even the fact Mrs Amaro drops food off would offend Mum’s sensibilities. “I didn’t raise you boys to be waited on hand and foot.”’
‘Your parents weren’t together?’
‘No.’ His smile is easy but I feel a hint of tension behind his response. Curious, I watch him for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll expand, but he doesn’t. He sits beside me and presses a kiss to my shoulder, the feeling of his mouth against my warm skin sending little darts of pleasure spinning through me.
‘Divorced?’
‘Never married.’ He moves his hand to the strap of my dress—I pulled it back on before we toured his apartment. He pushes it down so he can cover a little more skin real estate. I tilt my head back, looking at the dark sky above. I can make out the dull twinkling of stars in the distance, their faraway beauty slightly dimmed by the light display of the city.
‘You were raised by your mum?’
‘Until we were ten.’
His other hand pushes my other strap down so the dress falls once more, showcasing a lot of cleavage.
‘I like you like this,’ he says seriously, then draws a line across my breasts. ‘I like being able to look at you. In fact, next time you’re here, I think you should just be naked the whole time.’
I lift a brow. ‘And you?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘That doesn’t seem fair.’ I pout.
‘My house, my rules.’
‘I see. So when you’re at my suite, it’s my rules?’
‘That seems equitable.’
‘Okay, then.’ I flutter my eyelashes at him. ‘Then seeing as you call the shots, what next?’
‘That’s easy.’ He moves forward and removes my champagne, placing it on the edge of the pool behind him. ‘How about a swim?’
‘You read my mind.’
‘Fancy that.’
I move closer, so my dress falls lower and my breasts brush his torso. ‘Only, I didn’t bring any bathers.’
‘What a shame.’ His grin is pure wicked.
‘I suppose I could go naked?’ I suggest, standing, holding the top of my dress and slowly guiding it down my body, heat gathering in my cheeks as his eyes follow its progress. A sense of my own power throbs through me.
I have never wanted someone in such an inexhaustible way. Comparing Zach to an addiction is perfect—I am addicted to him in myriad ways. No, I correct swiftly. I’m addicted to him in precisely one way. And that addiction will end just as quickly as it began, because I’m nothing if not disciplined.
I let the dress fall all the way to the ground then move languidly towards the pool. ‘How deep is it?’ I ask, eyeing the glistening water.
‘Two metres.’
‘Perfect.’
Before he can respond I lift my arms like an arrow above my head and dive in, years of swim training coming back to me like riding a bike. Bliss erupts as I slice into the water, the feeling on a hot, sultry day like manna from heaven. The water shifts as he dives in behind me, the subtle change in current appreciable as I stroke through the water. But he’s fast and powerful, his arms cutting through the water. I look behind me as he reaches my feet, then he pulls equal, pausing to smile at me for a second before he reaches out and tries to grab my waist. I laugh and kick harder, pushing myself forward with a spurt of speed. A second later his hand connects with my waist and he’s drawing me back through the water, pulling my body to his. Naked, wet, hot, cool.
We tread water together, our eyes locked, mine lined with thick, clumped lashes, my dark hair like a pelt against my head.
‘You’re a fish,’ he murmurs. He’s still wearing his boxers but somehow even that is sexy—the feel of wet cotton against my naked flesh is an insane turn-on. ‘Or a mermaid.’ He pulls back a bit, looking at me through eyes that see everything.
‘Or perhaps a siren, designed to lure men to their death at sea.’
