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“I can tell.” He liked it. Took her mind off her troubles, at least.
“Ready?” she asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
She counted down from three, taking off with a burst of energy that was more than impressive. But he kept up, kept pace beside her, slicing his arms through the water, kicking his legs hard enough, he made waves throughout the pool. Always she was slightly ahead of him, a head’s length, then an arm’s length.
The final lap and she was still ahead, her feet kicking a froth of water that splashed him in the face. Did she do it on purpose? Amused, a little irritated, he wrapped his fingers around one delicate ankle and tugged, pulling her to him with one smooth motion.
Stasia struggled against him, pounded her curled fists on his chest, her legs striking out at his. He dodged her as best he could, hoping like hell she wouldn’t kick him in the groin, proving yet again what a feisty little thing she was. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tugging her into his body.
“Damn you! I was winning.” She struggled some more, her slippery body sliding against his, making his cock stir with interest. She felt good, too good, and he settled his hands on her ass, holding her against his stiffening cock.
“I forfeit. You are the clear winner,” he murmured, lowering his head so his face was in hers.
She looked up at him, blinking away water, her breath coming fast. Her hands rested on his chest, her thumbs stroking absently at his pecs and he gentled his grip on her backside, caressing her there. Pulling her in closer.
Closer.
“Where’s my prize?” she asked breathlessly, her voice pitched low.
He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, thrilling when she tilted her head, offering him better access. “Right here.” He ground his erection against her.
She laughed as she slid her hands up and down his chest. “You’re bad, Mr. Westmore. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Gavin didn’t answer, dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her mouth instead. Her lips were cool, the inner recesses of her mouth hot as she opened up to him. He teased her tongue with his, slid his hands beneath the wet fabric of her panties, gripping her lush flesh close. She moaned in response, sliding her arms around his neck as she clung to him.
The kiss turned carnal, desperate as their mouths went wider, their hands exploring. He carried her to the wide step at the shallow end and climbed out of the pool, taking her with him.
“Gavin,” she whispered after she broke their kiss, pressing her mouth to the edge of his chin, his jaw, his cheek. “Where are you taking me?”
“The guesthouse.” He strode across the terrace, leaving a trail of wet footprints in his wake.
“But what about our clothes?” She licked the side of his neck, sending a tremor through him, and he gripped her closer, his fingers pressing into her skin.
“Renzo will get them,” he gritted out between his teeth, desperate to retain control. She was setting him on fire, how she kissed him, touched him, felt pressed against him.
He wanted her in the guesthouse, private and out of sight from prying eyes, naked and warm in his bed.
“B—but what will he think?” He cut off whatever else she was going to say, locking his mouth with hers. He couldn’t worry over what Renzo might think. All he could concentrate on was this beautiful, responsive woman in his arms.
And how much he was going to enjoy finally being inside her.
He was surprisingly strong, her attorney. His arms bunched with muscle as he carried her to the tower guesthouse, his chest firm and hard when she leaned against it. His erection was huge, reminding her that he must’ve found something arousing about their little adventure in the pool, even though she’d almost beat him.
Stasia had been furious when he grabbed her ankle and pulled her to him. But then he’d touched her, gripped her close, ground his lower body to hers and she’d wanted to come on the spot. He felt so good, moving against her so that her body sparked with heat.
She loved how possessively he held her. Loved more how he’d thrown open the door without a care, striding with determination toward the bed and deposited her rou
ghly on the mattress, as if he was too distracted to handle her with the utmost care.
Oh how she liked that particularly. He was a very quiet, controlled man who she knew preferred order to chaos. He was organized, precise and paid attention to detail.
But with her, he lost all that organized perfection. He was a flesh and blood man with feelings and thoughts and wants. Wants he couldn’t necessarily control, desires that drove him to commit almost thoughtless acts.
Like tossing her onto the bed as if she was a rag doll. She was still wet, her panties soaked, and she moved to take them off, her fingers curling around the soggy lace and tugging.
“I told you to leave them on.”
