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Instead of reassuring her, I just catch her eye and hold it. “That’s normal.” I press both my hands under her, so she can feel that I have her. “Do you trust me?”
She hesitates, but only for a second. Then, slowly, she nods her head.
So I draw her toward the deeper end of the pool, out and away from the wall. She gasps again as her hands leave their familiar purchase, and as her head sinks up past her ears in the water. But she stays up on the surface.
“Feel that?” I ask, bouncing a little beside her so the waves cradle and rock her body. “The buoyancy?”
“Yeah.” Her breath comes out in a little puff. She glances toward me. Dares a small smile. “Now does it count as floating?”
“Almost.” I let her go.
Her amusement shifts to panic almost instantly. She flails, and immediately her legs and chest sink beneath the water. She sputters as it reaches her lips, but I catch her around the waist and right her, until she’s standing on the bottom, the water only up to her chin.
She groans and flushes again, as she regains her balance. “Sorry. I just…”
“It’s okay. It’s normal when you’re first learning.” I watch her, wondering. Especially when she side-eyes the deeper side of the pool with obvious mistrust. “I won’t let you drown in here, you know.”
She laughs again, a little more relaxed this time, turning her face toward mine. “I know. Sorry. It’s habit. Just, especially after that kid yesterday…” She shakes her head a little. “I used to be a nurse.”
I tilt my head, confused at the sudden shift in subject.
She smiles, a little sheepishly. “Earlier. You asked how I knew CPR but not how to swim. Well, we learned CPR in school. Swimming wasn’t a requirement, though, so I avoided it like the plague. Never liked… water,” she finishes, almost like she was about to say something else and changed her mind at the last moment.
“Well, you just have to understand how it works,” I tell her. “For example, earlier, when you were floating on your back—”
“Ha!” she interrupts with a triumphant grin. She leans in to nudge me, and her hand lingers against my bare chest a little longer than strictly necessary. Her palm feels like silk against me, and it makes me want to touch her all over again. “I knew that counted as floating.”
I laugh. “Earlier, when you were almost floating,” I correct myself, “you would’ve stayed afloat if you hadn’t started flailing so much. If you just relax into it, the water will do most of the work for you, holding you upright. Especially women, who tend to be more buoyant thanks to… well.” My gaze drops down her body, and her smirk widens.
“Thanks to my built-in flotillas?” She slides a hand over her breasts, and it takes every ounce of self-control in me not to reach out and trace the path she’s following, put my hands where hers are.
Fuck. This girl is messing with my head bad. “Yes,” I manage to say, unable to resist a sly smile. “Thank god for those.”
It takes serious willpower to drag my gaze from her chest back up to her face.
When I do, I find her watching me, too, her gaze dragging over my bare chest and stomach. “So let me guess,” she says. “You’d probably sink thanks to all that muscle?”
I bark out a surprised laugh. But before I can respond, Ms. Humbolt whistles from behind Sinclair.
“Now, Ankor,” she says, her voice taking on the old crotchety tone she only does when she’s messing with me. “I hate to interrupt budding young love—”
“Young hormones, more like,” Mrs. Orial interrupts, and all of the women cackle with laughter.
Sinclair bounces a few paces away from me through the water, like she can avoid any insinuations by taking herself farther from me.
I just let her go with another laugh.
“But there are still other people in this class,” Ms. Humbolt continues. “We’d appreciate a little direction now and again.”
“Just getting our newest member situated, that’s all,” I reply with an easy grin. “Ladies, this is Sinclair, she’ll be joining us for the day.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Mrs. Jenkins pipes up first, and reaches out to pat the wall beside her, in the shallowest section of the pool. “Join me, why don’t you?”
With a tentative smile, Sinclair swims over to her side, as I start the lesson itself. “Right, ladies, hands on the wall, we’ll begin with some kicks.” But as I walk them through the opening exercises, I can’t help myself. My gaze keeps drifting over to Sinclair, admiring her sleek body beneath the water, and the way she moves, at such odds with the way she keeps her face down and her eyes averted.
Her body acts confident, even if she seems to keep remembering she shouldn’t let herself for some reason.
