Page 62 of Painting Celia

She surfaced in the middle of the rippling pool, stopping to tread water as she gasped for a breath. Water streamed from her as she breathed and moved and found him watching.

The sight of her floored him. Her wide eyes found him as they had last night, just seeing him. Waiting.

She was a goddamn siren.

There was only so much he could take. He was pulling his shirt off before he knew he wanted to. Alarms started going off in his head. This might be a horrible decision. But the way she watched him, expectant, was an invitation. Right?

When he could look again, her eyes were roaming his shoulders and arms. Possible regrets were abandoned. He began unbuttoning his jeans.

•••

Celia’s heart pounded. He was coming to her.

She drank in the sight of him, lit by the wavering aqua light. León was surprisingly fit and lean. His loose casual clothes had hidden strong shoulders and solid biceps. That long dark hair curling up at the ends, what would it look like wet against his neck?

He left on his dark boxer briefs, pushing the jeans past his muscled thighs. And then he was in the water, descending the stairs into the pool.

León waded out, rousing waves, the water rising up his ribs and chest. He stopped, though, where the bottom of the pool began falling away, hesitating before going out deeper.

Beginning to tire of treading water, Celia moved closer, swimming quietly until she could touch the bottom. Shoulders and chest emerging as the slope rose beneath her, she silently invited León to act. Where was all that bravado now?

He seemed too spellbound, watching her approach.

Celia exhaled slowly. Provocation it would be.

She stepped closer yet, the water level falling to her ribs, her wet breasts revealed. He’d seen her bare, but this wasn’t posing anymore. This was for him.

He admired her openly, rapt. Glinting water ran off her in rivulets, leaving little droplets clinging to her skin. And then she was within reach, daring him to act.

He didn’t resist, closing the small distance between them.

Lit from below by the turquoise glow of the water, he brought dripping hands up to cup her face. His dark eyes had no fight left in them, just want.

He tilted his head, leaned in, and then his lips were on hers.

The water drifted away, the sparkling city, the warm light from the house. All that was left was the stars.

Her whole body sang. León’s lips were so soft, their touch gentle on hers, exploring the feel of her for the first time. Then, not gentle. His fingers tightened as his mouth moved on her roughly. Her head swam, wanting even more.

León finally pulled back to look at her, breathing hard. He searched her face with a terrible hope.

She broke into a wide smile.

“Wow,” she said softly.

•••

Satisfaction flooded him. Letting his hands fall from Celia’s glowing face, he drank her in, lost. She was bewitching, radiant for him. Just him.

“Reinita,” he said, a smile finally playing at his lips. A drop of water on her cheek lost its hold and trickled down to her neck. León raised two fingers to trace its path, making her shiver.

A dinging sound, faint but out of place, cut through the moment. León glanced at the pool house. His phone. It dinged again. “That chat of yours,” he muttered.

Damn, Andrew. Not now.

He turned his eyes back to the glorious Celia.

Andrew and Celia.

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