Page 129 of Swim To Me

Delilah blinks up at me all brown doe eyes. “Be in love with me?”

“Always. As long as you promise to do the same, gorgeous.”

“I promise, Grey Millen.”

Epilogue – Delilah

March – 6 months later

“Aren’t you coming in, gorgeous?”

I glance up from my place at the poolside, the book I’d been reading dangling helplessly from my fingertips, as I pull down my sunglasses to the tip of my nose and peer at Grey.

He stands in the pool, smirking temptingly at me, his hair wet and plastered to his head, droplets of water sliding down his toned upper body to the water below.

I have the sudden urge to lick them before they can disappear.

Peering back at my book, I mark my place with a fold of the upper corner, place the book on the side table and throw my sunglasses down too, swinging my legs from the sun lounger I’ve claimed as mine for the past week or so, feeling the heat of the tiled ground prick the bare soles of my feet.

Grey watches me stalk to the poolside, my fingertips coming to my bikini bottoms sitting on my hips, repositioning them so they don’t dig uncomfortably into my flesh, before I sit, only my legs dipping into the blessedly cool water.

A sigh escapes my lips.

The cool water wrapping itself around my legs, mixed with the warm sun above kissing the skin of my upper body pleasantly… it’s a perfect combination.

Grey wades over to me with ease. My hands come up to run through the wet strands of his hair, while he leans one forearm on either side of my thighs and the other squeezes at my bare tits.

He crooks a single eyebrow at me. “Where is your bikini top?”

I peer down at my own bare chest, the flesh where my bikini should sit a paler tone than my now sun kissed skin.

“I didn’t want the tan lines,” I say. “Plus, I thought I’d give the birthday boy a bit of a show. He deserves it. It’s not every day you turn thirty.”

Grey pinches at my left nipple, watching my reaction to the bolt of pleasure down to my core. “So, I’ve heard.”

His head dips down to rest on my knee, closing his eyes against the sun suspended in the bright blue, cloudless, sky above.

“Happy birthday to you,” I sing lowly, even though my singing voice is terrible and completely off tune. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Grey. Happy birthday to you. Happy thirtieth birthday, baby.”

Raising his head, Grey kisses me, cupping the nape of my neck so he can keep me steady and slip his tongue alongside mine.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” he whispers against my lips. “It’s nice to actually hear the full song this time around.”

“Hey!” I swat at his upper arm. “Itriedto sing it to you this morning in bed, but then you did that thing with your tongue and I—”

“Couldn’t form sentences?”

Grey’s eyes twinkle mischievously, his lips twisting into a smug smile, which tell me he’s recalling exactly what we did this morning, tangled up in the starch white sheets of our bedroom.

“You can’t have a birthday without birthday sex,” I say, hands skimming every bare inch of him I can touch. Grey shivers when my nails rake his abdomen, so I do it again, just to see the goosebumps erupt in my wake.

“Can’t you?”

“Nuh uh,” I hum. “Even more so on a special birthday.”

Grey doesn’t answer, so I prompt him again.

“How does it feel to be thirty?”

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