Still tucked under my covers, I gaze up at the ceiling like I’m looking for answers. Fucking Katrina. Did she yank me into the pool or did I slip? While she did try to stop me from leaving, I can’t be sure. Pointing a finger at her is not going to pay off. The manipulative bitch will throw insults in my face and twist things so I look like some dumb-ass spaz who doesn’t know how to swim. In my head, I can hear her apologizing to Brandon in her kiss-up saccharine voice for not helping me while I was drowning. In my best impersonation of her, I mouth, “I’m sorry, Brandy-Poo. I had no clue.” And then, the lying bitch will make things all right by pulling down his fly…
My alarm rings again. Just in time to stop my imagination from going to repugnant X-rated places. It’s time to get up and down to business. Groggily, I lift myself to a sitting position and reach for my phone on my night table. I routinely go to my emails to check what’s on today’s agenda before getting dressed and heading off to Starbucks. Sure enough, there’s one from Brandon with “IMPORTANT” written in the subject line. My pulse quickening, I click on it and read it:
As soon as you’re up, meet me at the pool and be sure to wear a bathing suit.
Anxiety blasts through me. The pool is the last place I want to hang out with him. And I sure as hell don’t want to put on a bathing suit. I only own one—a one-piece I’ve had for years that covers up most of my imperfections. I’ve actually never worn it and dread putting it on. I email him back.
Do I really need to wear a bathing suit? I’d rather not.
I hit send and get an instant reply.
Yes. Get your ass to the pool now.
Fuck. Boss’s orders. He’s back to being an asshole.
When I get to the pool, he’s already in the water swimming laps—something he does daily while I go to Starbucks to fetch his must-have Grande iced coffee. He cuts through the water like a shark, each powerful stroke propelling him forward, the muscles of his tanned arms and back rhythmically contracting. On a breath, he catches sight of me and swims up to where I’m standing. His head rises from the water, his skin and hair glistening. Lifting his goggles atop of his head, he rests his beautiful arms along the edge, flexing those well-formed biceps. His thick-lashed violet eyes gleam into mine.
“Good morning,” I say, holding it together despite a flurry of flutters. “What’s on the agenda?”
“Jump in.”
My stomach twists. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Take off your robe and jump in. I assume you’re wearing a bathing suit.”
I nervously tug at the belt of my worn velour robe. “If you recall, I don’t swim.”
“That’s unacceptable. You’re a liability. Now, please take off your robe.”
Slowly, I shrug off my robe until it’s puddled at my feet. His eyes travel from my head to my toes, lingering on some places he has no right to be. While all my lady parts are hidden, I feel like I’m totally bared to him. Divulging every imperfection. A shiver runs up my spine while I tug on the edge of my tank suit to make sure it’s covering my big butt.
“You look good in a bathing suit. Now, let’s get you wet.”
I read more than I should into his words. A rush of hot tingles bombards me.
“I’m a little nervous.” Make that scared shitless. My fear of drowning is so great I don’t take baths, and when I was at that spa, I never stepped foot in the hot tub.
“Jump in,” he orders again, his voice louder and gruffer.
Clenching my fists, I stand as still as a stone statue. I’m paralyzed with fear.
He scowls at me. “If you don’t do it, I’m going to hoist myself out of the pool and throw you in.”
I gulp. Though I suppose I could threaten him for harassment, he’s not giving me much choice. I chew on my bottom lip.
He breaks into a smug smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch every little bit of you.”
The thought of being held again in those magnificent arms motivates me. Okay, here goes. My heart racing, on the silent count of three, I squeeze my eyes shut and jump into the pool. The deep end, no less. Splash! As quickly as I sink in the tepid water so deep my toes skim the bottom, I torpedo to the surface. My head powers through the water and I find myself eye level with Brandon who’s holding me tightly. His firm hands cinch my waist. Face to face, we’re just a palm’s width apart. Anxiously, I grasp his broad shoulders for extra support and security. Or should I say irresistibly?
He smirks. “See, that wasn’t too bad.”
His warm breath heats my moist cheeks. “Okay, are we done now?” Truthfully, I don’t want to let go of him.
His smirk morphs into a fiendish grin. “We’ve only just begun. I’m giving you a swimming lesson. Something you’ve obviously never had.”
“Um, uh, my parents never got around to it,” I stammer. Brandon knows very little about my family or past. He’s never asked. Right now, the pathetic excuse will have to suffice. It’s not the time to tell him about my mother’s tragic death.
He cocks a brow. “Whatever. By the time we’re done today, you’re going to be able to swim a lap all on your own.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “I don’t think so.”
Without responding, he transports me to the shallow end of the pool where we can both stand up. He sets me down on my feet. While the water comes to my chest, it hits his six-foot-two frame just above his waist. His shimmering pecs and six-pack are in full view. They take my breath away.
Almost ironically he says, “Okay, the first thing you need to learn how to do is breathe. It’s simple.”
I watch as he dips his head into the water and blows out little bubbles. After thirty seconds or so, he lifts it out and shakes off some excess water. Somehow, I find that sexy as sin and a new set of hot tingles rushes to my core.
My turn. I imitate his actions, and with pursed lips, I blow out bubbles, trying to breathe normally. The soft percolating sound echoes through my ears. Finally, when I can no longer hold my breath and my lungs feel on the verge of bursting, my head pops out of the water. I inhale a deep breath of the warm morning air to replenish my lungs. My gaze meets Brandon’s.
His eyes are wide. “Wow! You have amazing breath control. How’d you learn to do that?”
One two-syllable word is on the tip of my tongue. Blowjobs. Sadly forgettable. I bite it back and shrug. “I suppose it’s just a special skill I have.”
He smirks again, his eyes narrowing seductively. “I bet you have lots of special skills I don’t know about. You’re lucky. I’m going to add swimming to your repertoire.”
Fucking in the water would be more like it. If we weren’t in a pool, he could feel how really wet I am. Here I go again! What’s wrong with me?
He licks his delectable lips, a small gesture that sends more distracting flutters to my gut…and beyond. “Okay, now relax.”
Before I can utter a word, he’s repositions me so I’m lying horizontally on my belly across the water in the palms of his large hands. I can feel them pressing dangerously close to my sex. The tingly sensation intensifies between my legs as his sultry voice sounds in my ears.
“Now, stretch your arms out in front of you, keeping them as close together as possible.”
I do as I’m told and await further instruction.
“Good. Now, put your head in the water, being sure to blow out bubbles like I taught you.”
In goes my head. But as soon as I begin blowing bubbles, I no longer feel his grip. I panic and flounder. I lose control of my breathing. Water infiltrates my nostrils, and coursing past my throat, quickly fills my lungs. My arms and legs flail in a tangle. I gasp for air, only to swallow a burning mouthful of the salty water. My fear of drowning swarms me.
And then I’m back in his arms. This time my legs wrapped around his hips like a pretzel, my arms folded tightly around his neck. My breathing is heavy. Close to hyperventilating.
He tenderly brushes away a few wet tendrils of hair that have fallen into my face. I hope he can’t tell
I’m on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice watery.
He puts a finger to my lips to silence me. “Shh. It’s okay. I should have told you I was going to let you go.” His tone is compassionate, not gruff or judgmental. “Let’s try this again. Remember, just relax and blow bubbles. When I let go, the water will carry you. Ready?”
I nod because I know if I open my mouth a whimper will escape. The last thing I want to do is have a breakdown in front of my demanding boss. Wordlessly, I let him rearrange me back into that horizontal position. I inhale and then exhale, the deep breath composing me. With my arms extended straight out in front of me, I draw in another sharp breath and then immerse my head in the pool. His words cut through the water.
“Nice. Now steady yourself. I’m going to let go of you.”
This time, I’m prepared when his hands fly off my body. Blowing bubbles, I open my eyes. It’s almost surreal. I see the little popping bubbles trail ahead of me and strands of my chestnut hair fan out like tributaries. An amazing sensation overtakes me. A magnificent lightness of being. Weightlessness. Something I’ve never experienced before. Holy smoke! I’m floating!
In my state of otherworldliness, I lose track of time. I don’t know how long I’ve been under the water moving like a stealth submarine, when two hands grip my hips and lever me to a standing position. On a deep breath, I tilt my head back and gaze up at Brandon. The wide-eyed expression on his face is a mixture of angst and awe. His hands cup my shoulders.
“Jeez, Zoey. You gave me a scare. I’ve seriously never met anyone who can hold their breath as long as you can.”
I smile sheepishly. “I did okay?”
Relaxing, he returns the smile. “You did great. An A+++.”
My smile widens while he tells me there’s one more thing to master before I can move on to an actual lap. Treading water. Walking my hands along the rim of the pool, I follow him as he leads the way back to the deep end.
“Hold on and watch what I’m doing.” While I grip the side of the pool, he moves five feet in front of me and into a vertical position, his head above the water. He explains to me it’s kind of like riding a bike. To keep pedaling my legs beneath the water and to simultaneously move my hands in a small sweeping motion. Without him asking, I dunk my head under the water to get a glimpse of his legs in motion. Flexing, they’re so long, gorgeous, and powerful. And his rippled stomach muscles that give way to a perfect pelvic V are so taut. And don’t get me started on that monumental bulge that’s straining against his Speedo. God, he’s hung!
“Get it?” he asks when I lift my head out of the water.
“Got it.” I play into his signature Kurt Kussler line.
“Good.” He winks. “Now kick off the side of the pool and float toward me.”
With ease and confidence, I do as bid, and in one swift, graceful move, I reach him. He grasps my hands once again. While he continues to tread the water, I shift my body so it’s perpendicular to the water like his. I start to bicycle my legs and to my surprise, I stay in a vertical position with my head above the water, though barely. My legs more than once touch his, our knees knocking. And more than once his hard length grazes my center. Deliberately? Once he sees I can stay afloat, he lets go of my hands, and I begin to paddle them. To my amazement, I rise higher above the surface of the water.
“You’ve got it,” he shouts out while I concentrate on my movements. He’s right. It’s a lot like riding a bike. And I’m good at that with my strong arms and legs.
We continue to tread water for another five minutes until I grow a little short of breath. He resumes a horizontal position, but this time on his back.
“Baby, hold on to my legs and just kick. I’m going to give you a ride back to the shallow end.”
For a brief moment, I’m stunned and my heart skips a beat. Did he just call me baby? It probably just slipped out of his mouth and is what he calls a lot of chicks he knows. Very Hollywood, though this is a first. I let it go and grab his ankles. As I kick behind him, he hauls me across the pool with a powerful backstroke—me loving every minute—until we’re both standing in the three-foot deep shallow end at the edge of the pool. He rises from the water like a god. Water drips from every part of him and his sculpted muscles glisten in the sun.
“Turn around,” he commands. His voice is authoritative.
Again, I do as asked. In a heartbeat, I feel his hard body pressing against mine. He captures both my wrists in his hands and begins to circle my arms, one after the other.
“Keep your fingers together and cut the water with them.”
I follow his directions, but he reprimands me. “No, Zoey. Don’t slap the water. Slice it and keep the splashes small.”
“Okay,” I murmur, a little crestfallen that I’m not quite getting it. Finally, after about thirty muscle-exhausting rotations, I have it down. My arms are killing me.
“I’m a little tired,” I plead, craning my neck. “Maybe we can pick up where we’ve left off tomorrow.”
He looks at me sternly. “No. You’re not leaving this pool until you know how to swim. End of discussion.”
I hate when he says “end of discussion.” There’s no twisting the egomaniac’s arm. He wants what he wants and always gets his way.
We move on to the next part of the lesson. He makes me hold on to the edge of the pool along side him and mimic the way he’s kicking. It’s all in the ankles—a small flutter kick. Again, he tells me it’s not a splash party. I do well. So, we move on to the final part of the lesson. I’m going to combine breathing with stroking and kicking. Do what’s known as a crawl. He demonstrates first, swimming to the other end of the pool and back. I watch in awe as his powerful body cuts through the water with the elegance and speed of a dolphin. In no time, he’s back in the shallow end.
“Okay, your turn. You’re going to do one lap to the end of the pool.”
My gaze travels to the deep end. Suddenly, the pool seems a mile long. Fear creeps back into my veins. “I don’t think I can do it.”
He tilts my chin up with his thumb and holds it there. Another rush of tingles streams through my body from my head to my toes. I meet his intense gaze and my bottom lip quivers. He’s affecting me, making me all hot and bothered. I flounder for words.
“I’m scared. I’ve never swum before. What if I freak out and—”
Still pressing his thumb under my chin, he cuts me off and flicks his index finger across the tip of my nose. “You won’t. And besides, I’ll be swimming right next to you.”
That’s a comforting thought, but I remain frozen in fear and some other forbidden emotion I don’t want to acknowledge.
“Here. Wear these.” He takes the goggles on top of his head off and puts them on me. I don’t move a muscle while he adjusts them to fit my face. My eyes stayed fixed on him through the plastic lenses. Oh, God! He’s beautiful! So, so beautiful!
“Are you ready?”
I don’t respond. I’m too fixated on his face and his body. If God created man in his image, He must be insanely divine.
Brandon grows a little irritated. “You know, we don’t have all day.” Ugh! That dreaded bossy voice. “So let’s get to it. Kick off and start swimming.”
He moves out of my way. I shoot him one more doubtful look and I do it. It doesn’t come easily and I know I look nothing like an Olympian, but for the first time in my life, I’m actually swimming. Propelling myself across the pool with my arms and legs. Slowly but surely. On my first breath, I see Brandon on his back, stroking idly beside me. He winks at me, and I manage a tepid smile back at him. But halfway down the length of the pool, he picks up his pace, and before I know it, he’s way ahead of me. Panic grips me. I’m all by myself in the middle of the pool. The memory of my mother drowning fills my head. Her arms reaching out for me. Of me, watching, hopeless and helpless, until she disappears beneath the sea. I will it away. Swim, Zoey! You can do it! Do it for her!
On my next breath, a nat
ural rhythm kicks in. Effort becomes effortless. Brandon’s voice resounds in my ear when I come up for air. “Come on, Zo. You can do it. You’re almost there.” I manage to glimpse his impassioned face before my head slides back under the water. The end is in sight. Maybe a dozen strokes away.
Finally, my hand touches down on the rim of the pool. My head shoots out of the water, and looming above me is Brandon, all wet and beautiful. He grabs my hand and hoists me out of the water, something I have not an ounce of body strength to manage. After lifting the goggles on top of my head, he swiftly wraps a large fluffy towel around my dripping wet body and then draws me into his arms. Breathing heavily, I don’t resist and rest my head against his damp manly chest. My thudding heart drowns out his. He holds me tightly. While my breathing calms down, my heartbeat speeds up. My nipples harden at the touch of his sculpted pecs, sending a blast of arousal to the triangle between my inner thighs. He presses me closer and I feel his hard length rub against me right through the thick towel. Finally, I break my head away from his chest and gaze up at his breathtaking face. His dark hair is slicked back, his eyes two sparkling amethyst gems. My eyes don’t blink and my mouth doesn’t move. My heartbeat hastens from a trot to a gallop.
Grinning smugly, he breaks the heated silence and rakes his hand through my soaked strands of hair. “You did it!”
“I had a great teacher,” I say softly with a smile.
“There’s a lot I could teach you, baby.”
Oh my God. He called me baby again. But this time his lush lips stay parted. He bows his head, and I swear he’s making a beeline for my mouth. Every feature on my face freezes in anticipation. He’s getting closer. I can practically taste him. Oh so close. And then…
“What may I ask is going on here?”
Brandon jerks away, body and all. My towel falls to the ground.
It’s her.
Hurricane Katrina.
Brandon
“I’m just giving Zoey a swimming lesson. After last night, I thought she could use one.”
With glacial eyes, Katrina gives Zoey the once over. “Some people should never put on a bathing suit.”
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