pool—frisky devil that he is—but instead he carries me down the stone steps, slipping me gently into the water with him. He makes it seem so intimate, the way he handles me so reverently. Slowly sinking with me into the blissful deep.
He is so graceful, controlled and powerful in his movements. He carries me fully clothed into the water, but the moment we're in he allows me to stand on my own. He unfastens the drawstring at my waist and dips beneath the surface to flow the garment off over my legs. He emerges a moment later dripping and sexy, smoothing his hair back and tossing the pants to the side of the pool with a wet slap.
Next he goes for my shirt, peeling the material from my flesh and exposing me to him. “You are perfect,” he stands back to marvel at me.
I can feel his words all the way to my core, soothing my insecurities. I've never felt so beautiful, and to hear such praise coming from someone who is nothing short of perfection itself, means more than anything in the world to me. I hate the thought of this ever ending.
With his eyes on me I sink into the water, arching my spine, lowering my head to wet my hair. His predatory stare is on me as I slick my hair back with both hands.
“If I didn't know any better, I would think this reward was for you,” I tease.
His eyes darken and the hunger has returned to his expression. I know he is just about to pounce. Before he can reach me, before his hands grasp me and never let go, I submerge myself in the water, slipping away from him.
When I resurface a few yards out of reach, he is staring at me like a lost puppy. The look is adorable on such a hardened, male exterior. I bite my lip from the short distance away, hoping my mien would be enough to draw this handsome stranger to me, but he doesn't move. He only stares out, lost at sea.
“Will you chase me?” I ask, hopeful, hating the bleak expression he wears.
“Always,” he dares to answer. It's the sweetest sentiment ever uttered.
When he dips under the water after me, I hurry in the opposite direction. I glide to the other side of the pool and he reemerges only to find himself bereft of me once more.
When he comes up he stiffens, finding this section of the water now vacant for all but him. He swipes the droplets from his face, wiping it from his eyes, from his stubble. He turns until he locates me once more, then freezes. He had expected to catch me so easily.
“Vixen,” he purrs. His voice makes me shiver.
The problem with this game is that I want him to catch me. I want him to grasp my arms and tug me to him. I want him to trap me and keep me forever.
When he paddles after me one last time, I kick off the wall and glide out into the deep. But instead of coming directly toward me, like he had feigned, James anticipates my movements, and I end up swimming directly into him.
He catches me with a playful growl, holding me in an iron grip with one arm while he takes us back to the shallow end of the pool.
“You look beautiful wet,” he says once he has taken us to the pool's steps. He smooths my hair back and kisses my forehead.
My fingers untie the drawstring on his pants and I relish the swell of his arousal as I roll the fabric away. “ You are beautiful wet,” I correct him. Nevermind me.
Water streams from his slicked-back hair, down his toned arms and defined abs. His happy trail gleams tantalizingly down toward his erection. He steps out of his pants and advances.
“Mmm,” James kisses me again, “you're mistaken, madam.” He snatches me up in a sudden swirl of water, tosses me over his shoulder and hauls me up the stairs. “With you, there is no contest.”
He carries us up and rests me on the ground. I don't have long to find my bearings before he is walking me back, pinning me against the nearest wall. I barely register the waves of the waterfall over the roar of blood pumping through my heart.
The wall halts my retreat. The stone is cold against my back. We both drip
He is so graceful, controlled and powerful in his movements. He carries me fully clothed into the water, but the moment we're in he allows me to stand on my own. He unfastens the drawstring at my waist and dips beneath the surface to flow the garment off over my legs. He emerges a moment later dripping and sexy, smoothing his hair back and tossing the pants to the side of the pool with a wet slap.
Next he goes for my shirt, peeling the material from my flesh and exposing me to him. “You are perfect,” he stands back to marvel at me.
I can feel his words all the way to my core, soothing my insecurities. I've never felt so beautiful, and to hear such praise coming from someone who is nothing short of perfection itself, means more than anything in the world to me. I hate the thought of this ever ending.
With his eyes on me I sink into the water, arching my spine, lowering my head to wet my hair. His predatory stare is on me as I slick my hair back with both hands.
“If I didn't know any better, I would think this reward was for you,” I tease.
His eyes darken and the hunger has returned to his expression. I know he is just about to pounce. Before he can reach me, before his hands grasp me and never let go, I submerge myself in the water, slipping away from him.
When I resurface a few yards out of reach, he is staring at me like a lost puppy. The look is adorable on such a hardened, male exterior. I bite my lip from the short distance away, hoping my mien would be enough to draw this handsome stranger to me, but he doesn't move. He only stares out, lost at sea.
“Will you chase me?” I ask, hopeful, hating the bleak expression he wears.
“Always,” he dares to answer. It's the sweetest sentiment ever uttered.
When he dips under the water after me, I hurry in the opposite direction. I glide to the other side of the pool and he reemerges only to find himself bereft of me once more.
When he comes up he stiffens, finding this section of the water now vacant for all but him. He swipes the droplets from his face, wiping it from his eyes, from his stubble. He turns until he locates me once more, then freezes. He had expected to catch me so easily.
“Vixen,” he purrs. His voice makes me shiver.
The problem with this game is that I want him to catch me. I want him to grasp my arms and tug me to him. I want him to trap me and keep me forever.
When he paddles after me one last time, I kick off the wall and glide out into the deep. But instead of coming directly toward me, like he had feigned, James anticipates my movements, and I end up swimming directly into him.
He catches me with a playful growl, holding me in an iron grip with one arm while he takes us back to the shallow end of the pool.
“You look beautiful wet,” he says once he has taken us to the pool's steps. He smooths my hair back and kisses my forehead.
My fingers untie the drawstring on his pants and I relish the swell of his arousal as I roll the fabric away. “ You are beautiful wet,” I correct him. Nevermind me.
Water streams from his slicked-back hair, down his toned arms and defined abs. His happy trail gleams tantalizingly down toward his erection. He steps out of his pants and advances.
“Mmm,” James kisses me again, “you're mistaken, madam.” He snatches me up in a sudden swirl of water, tosses me over his shoulder and hauls me up the stairs. “With you, there is no contest.”
He carries us up and rests me on the ground. I don't have long to find my bearings before he is walking me back, pinning me against the nearest wall. I barely register the waves of the waterfall over the roar of blood pumping through my heart.
The wall halts my retreat. The stone is cold against my back. We both drip
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