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My eyes drop to the book she’s reading.The Psychology Major’s Handbook.
I mutter every expletive that comes to mind under my tongue, then stomp out into the garden.
“Why psychology?”
She startles, almost dropping her book in the river. I frown, remembering how long it took me to get the exact pH level of the water, and then I wonder whether ink and plastic and paper will throw it off.
“So I can become a therapist.”
“Why?”
We stare at each other from across the river.
“Because I want to help people, that’s why,” she says quietly. “People who can’t help themselves.”
“It’s horseshit. Making money off vulnerable people.”
Her timid demeanor hardens in an instant. “I want to be apsychologistnot a psychic.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Her eyes darken. “And it’s nothorseshit.When my parents died, I would have probably died with them if it wasn’t for seeing a grief counselor.”
A rumble comes from deep within my chest as her words settle around me like dust.Don’t ask. Don’t you dare ask.
I clench and unclench my fist, staring at the early morning sun through the glass roof. “I told you I didn’t want to hear your life story.”
She scrambles to her feet, hugging her textbook to her chest. “Then don’t ask questions.”
“Deal. Now shut up and take your clothes off.”
I slide my T-shirt over my head and kick my boxers to the side. Her mouth parts, closes again, and she swallows hard. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the way she flusters. How obvious it is that she’s trying not to let her eyeline go south. It makes my cock stiffen instantly.
Without breaking eye contact, I slide into the river and wade over to the bank she’s standing on.
“I said, take your clothes off.”
After a few beats, she tugs off her shorts and sweater, revealing every curve of her body. A moan lingers in my throat, and I swim backward to get a better view.
Fuck, Dahlia Rose really looks like an angel. The first rays of sun flooding through the glass frame her naked body, like a rare artifact backlit in a museum display case. Heavy breasts, narrow waist, long, tanned legs. The animal inside of me beats against my ribcage, demanding to be let out.
Even I can hear that my voice is strangled when I say, “Get in the fucking water.”
A moan escapes her lips. She likes it when I’m dominant.
I like it when she’s not.
She lowers herself onto the bank, giving me a glimpse of the sweet pink mound between her thighs as she does so. When she slides herself into the water, she arches her back and sticks out her tits, a challenging look in her eyes. This little angel knows exactly what she’s doing: teasing me. Giving me a show before I fuck her raw.
“It’s cold,” she gasps as her pink nipples disappear below the surface.
“I’ll warm you up.”
I close the gap between us, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her up by her ass. She wraps her legs around my hips and locks her arms around my neck, so my cock is pressed against her stomach, her rock-hard nipples grazing my chest.
Lifting a finger to her face, I brush a stray strand of hair out her eyes and pin her with a stare. “Did you like the way I fucked you yesterday?”
After a beat of surprise, she says, “Yes.”
