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‘Please, Valentine.’ My gut rolls and I know I sound desperate, but I can’t go there, I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to relive it. ‘I’m not some child that you need to look after.’
‘I didn’t say you were.’
‘Then let it go, let’s not make this about more than it is. We’re having sex, great sex. And sex doesn’t warrant serious conversation. In fact, it spoils it.’
His eyes lock with mine and I sense the fight still there. A second’s hesitation. Two.
‘Do you really want to spoil it?’
‘No.’ He gives me a small smile as he rises up. ‘You want some company?’
‘In here?’ My brows lift. ‘You want to swim, in the middle of the night?’
‘And you’re looking at me like I’m the crazy one when you’re the one doing exactly that.’
I grin, giddy with relief, and I’m about to tell him I’m ready to get out when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his briefs.
‘Unless you don’t want me skinny-dipping in your pool?’
‘I don’t have a problem...but my neighbours might.’
He spins and scans the terraces either side of mine and I laugh because no one can see anything. I laugh because he’s put me through the emotional wringer more than he can possibly know, and I’m light with the relief of being able to move on. I laugh because the truth is the garden has been well designed—by me—to provide privacy with its high walls, rambling climbers, trees and trellises.
It’s fun to watch his panicked moment though, especially with his briefs now halfway down his deliciously tight arse and, more importantly, blocking my view of Nathan’s seat.
‘Very funny.’ He shakes his head as he looks back to me and my retort dies on my lips because he’s yanking the briefs off completely and tossing them aside.
He launches himself in. His long, lithe body outstretched, his form perfect, his muscles accentuated by the lights that lift off the pool. He breaks the water with barely a splash, swims beneath it and doesn’t emerge until he’s at the other end, turning back towards me, his eyes alive with such mischief.
My heart skips a beat, trepidation sparking. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Payback.’
‘Pay—what?’
But he’s gone, under the water and coming straight for me, a dark shadow and I’ve nowhere to go. The pool is long and thin, designed for lengths not shifting side to side, and then his hands are on my hips, his fingers rippling, tickling and I’m wriggling, trying not to squeal. Our neighbours might not be able to see, but they’d certainly be able to hear.
I grip his arms. ‘Stop it!’
Not that he can hear me; he’s still submerged, and he isn’t stopping either. I drop down, shake my head at him beneath the water, bubbles of protest erupting from my lips, but he’s too busy grinning, his mouth sealed shut.
We burst from the water together and I suck in a breath, thrust the water at him. He shakes it off, his hair sending water everywhere as his hands close around my hips and he’s pulling me to him.
‘Not funny,’ I blurt.
‘It was a little bit funny,’ he murmurs.
My response becomes a quiet squeak as his mouth covers mine and I forget why I’m mad, forget why I was laughing. All I can think is how perfect his mouth feels as he kisses me.
I lift my hands to his cheeks, palm his stubble that looks so out of place on him and comb my fingers back through his hair, clinging to him as he deepens the kiss. His cock nudges between us, hard, needy, teasing out a reciprocal beat in my core.
I moan into his mouth, giddy, high on him, on this. I wrap my legs around his waist and press my body tight against his, teasing out a growl from deep within his throat. He reaches down into the water, palms my arse as he walks us to the pool edge, not once breaking his kiss.
I feel the wall at my back, and he stops, his palm lifting to my breast, cupping, stroking. My nipple pebbles beneath his touch, sending excited little ripples straight to my throbbing clit. He does the same to my other, my legs gripping him to me as I grind against him, my hands still clinging to his hair.
‘I can’t get enough of you.’
His honest declaration has my insides twisting and dancing, a confusing beat of happiness and fear. I don’t want to thrive on such words. I don’t want to need another to make me feel this good. Especially someone like him, a temporary presence in my life, but my legs clench around him tighter, defying my internal struggle.
