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When I finally manage to, I grin. “Of course not. Jump right in.”
Her gaze lingers on mine. Unless I’m much mistaken, to judge by the flush in her cheeks and the way her eyes keep dipping down to my chest and then back up to my face, she doesn’t hate the view either. For once, I’m glad to be noticed. Even if it’s a huge risk, one I shouldn’t be taking… I can’t bring myself to wish the moment away.
My eyes linger on her as she bends to climb into the pool. Every move she makes just shows off another turn to her curves and makes my hands itch to touch her.
To distract myself, I turn back to Mrs. Jenkins, who I was in the middle of teaching about the breast stroke kick. She shoots me the kind of sly smirk that tells me she knows exactly what I’m thinking right now, and darts a glance over her shoulder at the new girl sliding into place along the nearest wall of the shallow end, taking the ladder down into the pool. “Nice to have some young blood here.” Mrs. Jenkins’s eyes spark where they catch mine. “Finally, someone age appropriate to gawk at you, handsome.”
I snort and gesture at her to try the kick again. “No amount of flirting is going to get you out of this lesson easy, you know, Sandra.”
“Oh, I’m counting on that,” she replies with a throaty laugh, and I have to roll my eyes.
I also can’t resist watching her from the corner of my eye, even while I’m attempting to help Mrs. Jenkins with her stroke. Finally, she waves me off with an eye roll of her own. “Go on,” she scolds me. “Shouldn’t you help the newest student first?”
I suppress a smirk, but I do as she asks, and head across the pool to where my mystery student is clinging to the wall, despite the fact that we’re in shallow enough water that it only comes up to her chest.
Her perfectly voluptuous chest. The one piece she’s wearing isn’t the most revealing thing, but it still shows off several inches of cleavage. Enough that I can imagine exactly how perfect the pert, soft, pillowy breasts beneath would be. I wonder how long it would take her nipples to harden under my thumbs, if I were to run my hands across those tits now. Or better yet, my tongue…
She clears her throat, and I shake myself out of the daze and force my eyes back to her face, only to find her watching me. Am I imagining things, or is there a hint of amusement in her eyes and the curve of her lips as she studies me right back?
“Glad you could make it to class today, Ms…?” I leave in a healthy blank for her to fill in.
Still, there’s a split second where she hesitates, almost like she doesn’t want to tell me her name. I watch her eyes cloud over, like she’s processing some kind of internal debate. But eventually she shakes her head and sticks out a hand, managing a smile. “Sinclair,” she says.
“Sinclair.” I arch an eyebrow. “That a first or a last name?” I take her hand in mine and try very hard not to think about how soft and smooth her narrow fingers are. How good they would feel running over my body or wrapped around my cock.
Damn. I’m in so much trouble.
Her smile widens, just a little. It’s enough for me to glimpse a hint of a dimple on one cheek, and that is enough to drive me wild. “First name,” she says. “I know it’s kind of unusual.”
“I like it,” I reply, releasing her hand. “I’m Ankor, by the way. So, I hear you on the whole unusual name thing.” I wink, and her cheeks flush, a bright red that blends in with the smattering of freckles across her nose.
“I like it,” she mimics, and we both grin this time.
“So, Sinclair. What brings you to my lessons?” I wave an arm around the pool. Most of the older women are doing nothing to hide their blatant gawking at the two of us. A few have already started whispering. I spot Sandra among them and resist a laugh. I’m sure she’s already spreading rumors about me and Sinclair.
Not that I mind. On the contrary, I could hope to be so lucky.
Remember your hiatus, my brain is shouting. But my brain has long since lost control of things. All the blood has flooded south, and it’s my other brain in charge of me now.
And I want this woman, damn it.
“I, uh…” She bites her lower lip, just a flash of pearly teeth against her pale skin, and it’s almost enough to make me try and kiss her right now. There’s that smile again, shy and a little sly, like she’s got a naughty streak she’d let out at the right provocation. “I don’t actually know how to swim,” she says. She flushes again. “Pretty embarrassing, I know. Everyone knows how to swim, right?”
