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Life can’t get much better than this.
* * *
It’s lunchtime, and we’ve been lazy all day by choice. We’re out by the pool, sunning ourselves. The security guards are on front door duty currently after I told them firmly that they’re not allowed into the backyard for the next two hours at least. Maybe longer.
Glancing over at the lounger next to mine, I drink in the sight before me. Scarlett in the tiniest pair of white bikini bottoms I’ve ever seen.
And nothing else.
“You’re a dirty girl, Scar,” I drawl, smiling. “How’d I get so lucky?”
She’s got a giant black straw hat on, which hides most of her face. “I would never do this for anyone else but you.”
It took some convincing. She wasn’t comfortable going topless, but I told her no one would see. The security guards wouldn’t dare come to the backyard, not after I made my request. They’re both cool dudes. Intimidating but quiet enough that they sort of blend into the background after a while, which I’m sure is the plan.
“I know.” Reaching out, I streak my fingers across her stomach, making her jump. “You look hot.”
“I am hot,” she says. “It’s stifling out here.”
“Ha ha.” It is August, and the sun is broiling. “You need more sunscreen?”
“No, I’m good.”
Damn. I was hoping for an excuse to run my hands all over her skin.
“Want to swim?”
“Not yet.” She wiggles her hips, like she’s trying to get more comfortable. I wish I could see her face. “In a few minutes, though, yes.”
“I’m going in.” I climb off the lounger and don’t even hesitate.
I’m in the pool in seconds, making a big enough splash that I hear Scarlett squeal just before I slip underwater. The moment I pop my head out of the water, I see she’s sitting up, the hat on my lounger, a cute scowl on her face.
She’s drenched.
“You should join me.” I grin, cupping my hand and splashing her. The water lands on her calves and feet. “It feels good.”
“Are you getting me back for that first day we were here?” she calls.
That day feels like a lifetime ago. When I didn’t really trust her and we were circling each other like sharks. When I thought she was an uptight, spoiled little princess and didn’t have any clue how I’d convinced her to do this with me.
Still not quite sure how I was able to finagle that. Not like it was about money. But I do know one thing.
Whenever anyone talks about Scarlett Lancaster now, her father’s name is no longer attached.
“Maybe,” I finally say, splashing her again. “Get in here.”
She stands and slips her feet into a pair of black Gucci slides, then walks around the perimeter of the pool with her hips swaying and her breasts on display, seemingly comfortable in her skin, before she ends up at the shallow end.
I watch her, surprised my tongue isn’t hanging out like a dog’s. She’s so fucking sexy, and she doesn’t even realize it. The transformation of Scarlett has been interesting to watch.
Can’t help but think I have a lot to do with it.
When she kicks off her slides and dips her toes into the water, she gives a little mock shiver. “It’s cold.”
“It is not.” I shake my head. “You can’t just wade in, Scar. You gotta jump.”
Pausing, she watches me as she swirls her foot in the water. “Sounds like a life analogy, Tate.”
