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“No.”
She swam up to the edge, giving him an impish grin. “Please.”
He remembered her words from the other day. Don’t you do anything for yourself?
He didn’t. He didn’t, because there was no point.
But swimming wasn’t a betrayal.
He could feel his body’s response to that in his teeth. A twist in his gut. Because he knew what he was doing. Knew that he was pushing at that which was acceptable.
But the water would be cold.
And he would not touch her. Tension rolled from his shoulders, and he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it on the banks of the river. His shoes, his pants. And leaving himself in only the dark shorts that he wore beneath his clothes.
Then he dived, clearing her completely, sliding beneath the surface of the water at the center of the pool, letting the icy water numb his skin like pinpricks over the surface of it. Maybe it would knock the desire that he felt for her out of his body.
Maybe.
He swam toward her, and he saw something flash in the depths of her eyes. Surprise. Maybe even fear.
He stopped just short of her.
“Is this what you had in mind?”
“I didn’t expect the strip show.”
The characterization of what had occurred made his stomach tighten. Or the cold water had no effect on his desire.
He couldn’t understand why. Why this woman, at this moment, tested him so.
Any retort she might have made, any continuation of the conversation seemed to die on her lips.
And he knew. He knew that he had just gone straight into temptation. Had
literally dived right in. Whatever he had told himself in that moment on the shore was a lie. All he had wanted to do was to be closer to her.
He had never experienced anything like this. Had never experienced this kind of draw to a woman before. To anyone.
She had nothing in common with him. A spoiled, sheltered girl from the United States. But when she looked at him, he felt something. And he had not felt anything for a long time.
She began to draw closer to him.
“Don’t,” he said.
“I just...” A droplet of water slid down her face, and her tongue darted out. She licked it off. She reached out and dragged her thumb over the scar on his cheek. “How did you get this?”
Her touch sent a lightning bolt of desire straight down to his groin. “It’s not a good story.”
“I don’t care.”
“You think you don’t care, but you haven’t heard it.”
Her hand was still on him.
“Tell me,” she insisted.
“You know you should be afraid of me,” he said. “And here you are, pushing me.”
