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“Come on, let’s get you to bed. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
“I’m fully capable of getting myself to bed, thank you very much.”
But I climb from the pool anyway and lift a hand to take the spare towel from him. Instead of passing it to me like a normal person, he wraps it around my chest tightly, his fingers brushing innocently along my flesh before tucking it into itself between my breasts.
My mind empties of all thought, replaced by a growing need to feel his hands everywhere. I lift my head to meet his darkened gaze. I could do it. I could step forward and press my lips to his. My gaze darts to the patio door. Everyone is either gone or asleep. If I wanted to do this, no one would know.
I pull my eyes back to his and decide that for once, I will throw all caution to the wind. I will do what I want, and damn the consequences. But he steps back, and the moment is gone, lost in the abyss. “Next time, Little Dove.”
“Next time?” I ask, confusion lacing my tone.
“Just leap.”
