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I wasn’t offended by his speech. In fact, it made me like him more. “Understood,” I said simply. “If I ever hurt her, I’d welcome a beating, trust me.”

That seemed to settle it. Nova slipped under my arm, hugging my waist, a near mirror pose to what Stephan and Javier were doing.

I glanced down at her. She was looking up at me with that deep, soulful stare that got to me every time. She was so young, but those beautiful eyes of hers were ageless.

“Can I have one little drink?” she asked me in her sweetest voice, the one she used when she begged me for the things I rarely denied her. “I don’t think they’ll give us any problems if I don’t go up to the bar directly, you know, like if someone just brings one to me.”

I gave her a disapproving look. “No. I’m not letting you have alcohol. You’re underage.”

She pouted, but I wasn’t budging on this.

Javier snorted so loudly I looked at him.

He was laughing at me. “She’s not old enough for a drink, but she’s old enough for whatever this is?” He waved a hand in our direction.

I flushed, but I wasn’t surprised. I figured it was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes that I was fucking her. Even now I had handfuls of her, one gripping low on her hip, the other cupping the back of her head, and I hadn’t even realized I was reaching for her. My hands acted on their own at this point.

It was just that innate now—my sense of ownership for her.

But all that was beside the point. “It’s a no,” I stated firmly. “I know it’s fucked up that I’m her teacher, but that’s also exactly why I won’t be a party to her drinking when she’s underage and in my direct care.”

Javier shrugged, but he looked more amused than ever. “Whatever, man. Want to play some pool volleyball?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

NOVA

After spending hours at the pool, Stephan and Javier invited us to join them for dinner, and I was surprised when Carter actually agreed.

I showered in the large locker room attached to the resort’s many pools and changed into dry clothes.

Carter had packed them for me, and I found myself in sweat pants and an oversized UCLA sweatshirt. My hair was still wet as I slipped my feet back into the slides I’d worn to the pool.

I wasn’t sure where we were going for dinner, but I was positive this wasn’t the dress code for it.

I stepped out of the changing room, expecting to be the last one ready as the rest of them were guys, but only Javier was waiting for me.

Javier took one look at me and started shaking his head. “Carter packed my clothes,” I explained. “Normally he’s surprisingly good at choosing outfits for me, but I think he was just trying to cover up as much skin as possible here.”

Javier laughed. “A bit pointless at this point, no? That cat’s out of the bag.”

I shrugged and tried my best not to blush.

Just then Stephan and Carter joined us, both newly changed into dry clothes. Stephan and Javier were wearing nice slacks and dress shirts, looking put together down to their still wet but still styled hair, but Carter was wearing an outfit nearly identical to mine. He was even wearing a similar college sweatshirt.

I indicated the front of my shirt. “I take it you went to UCLA?” I asked Carter. I gobbled up every little tidbit I learned about him.

He looked sheepish. “I did.”

His eyes were running over me, taking me in in his clothes from his school, and I could tell by his heavy eyelids that it really did something to him.

I loved it, loved that he’d wanted to put a stamp of ownership on me in public even as he’d tried to cover up every inch of my skin. In spite of his protestations, our bedroom inclinations were starting to spill over into other parts of life, and though it may have been wishful thinking on my part, I couldn’t help but be encouraged by it.

“I’ll push the reservation back an hour,” Javier said decisively. He pointed at Carter. “Stephan, take him to find something more appropriate to wear to a Michelin star restaurant. I’ve got Nova.”

We started to walk away when Javier stopped suddenly. He strode back to Carter and held out his hand.

Carter stared at him, raising a brow. “What?”