Page 29 of The Wrong Move

I want to…

The time-lapse in my reply is answer enough. Byron kisses my cheek, grabs the glass from my hand that I miraculously didn’t spill, and wades through the water to the other side.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you a towel,” he says gently.

He steps out of the water, his huge erection pushing against his shorts. I can’t help but stare and remember what he used to look like naked. Now he has more muscle, more strength, and more stamina—the perfect combination in bed.

What am I doing?

Without a doubt, I want to have sex with Byron, but this is happening faster than I intended. I needed to be touched while also protecting my heart. Why not Byron? He is as good as any lover.

Because Byron is the one who can hurt me more than any other man.

He returns with a towel wrapped around his waist, his erection still evident. He holds another towel open for me to step into.

Swimming naked is not new for me, yet I feel nervous as I take the first step from the water. Byron watches my every move. His eyes are all over me, and when I press against the towel, he holds my gaze, the lust swirling between us. He wraps the towel around my body and takes a step back to give me space, his erection pushing his towel even higher.

He rubs at the material caging his dick. “Seeing you like this, with water running over your beautiful body, doesn’t help.”

My beautiful body.His words are like a song in my mind.

“What will help?” I whisper.

“Not imagining you in my bed, for a start.” He turns aways and rakes his fingers through his wet hair.

“I’m assuming you have regular checks.”

His head whips around, understanding what I’m asking him.

“Just last week. I’m clear. I also always used protection.”

“Same. I have contraception.”

His eyes widen, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

I turn away and look out over the million-dollar view. “No one can see us here, right?”

“No.”

I drop my towel, and in an instant, his hands are all over me, his mouth on my breast, my stomach, my inner thigh.

This has to be sex, not love.

Do not fall for him.

His kisses trace over my stomach, up to my other breast, to my shoulders, and then to my face. His lips take mine, and my body screams for him. Our kisses are passionate, his tongue wrapping around mine like a snake dance. We breathe the sameair through loud, desperate breaths, our needy hands all over each other.

“This is just sex, right?” I say.

His face drops, then understanding crosses his expression. He spins me so I’m facing toward the pool, his cock pressing into my lower back. Both hands wrap around to massage my breasts while he kisses the nape of my neck. I tilt my head to rest on his shoulder and circle my hips against him.

This is perfect. No gazing into his eyes when I come, no kissing intimately. A hand reaches, and I spread my legs for him while the other squeezes my boob and rubs my nipple. His fingers own me. This time, I’m bucking and circling in rhythm as desire builds again. “Now,” I demand.

I step away and place both hands on the chair, bending my ass to him.

He hesitates, then steps closer.

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