Page 70 of Kiss Me Tonight

I stop short of rolling out of my king-sized bed as his words sink in to my sleep-addled brain. He didn’t say . . . No, he wouldn’tactuallybe calling me this late at night—early in the morning?—to go for a . . .

“A swim,” I say, drawing out each individual letter. “You just asked me to go swimming.”

“I did, yeah.”

I hear the rustle of sheets, and a visual of Dominic leisurely resting in bed hops into my brain. Black sheets—his favorite color—would be tangled around his hips, revealing the dark happy trail that could entice even the most innocent into doing naughty, sinful activities. His inky hair would be mussed, like he’s combed his fingers through it all night. His chest . . . oh, he’d be shirtless, hard pectoral muscles all on display.

A feast for the gods.

Or, more specifically, a feast for me—one mere mortal woman who wouldn’t mind partaking in a Dominic DaSilva buffet.

“Levi? You there?”

Slipping from the bed, I quietly pad over to my large window, which overlooks Frenchman Bay. I part the heavy curtains, allowing more moonlight to filter in. It turns the black shadows dancing in my room into warmer hues—soft blues, deep purples. Without my glasses on, I can’t see much of anything besides blocks of color.

Holding the phone close to my mouth, I drop my voice to a whisper, then think better of it and untap the speakerphone button. Tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear. “It’s too late.”

“You mean we’ve got practice in the morning.”

8 a.m. sharp.

I need two cups of coffee, no cream, no sugar, on seven hours of sleep, to function like a normal human being. Never mind how much it would take to get me going after a nighttime jaunt in the chilly waters.

Not wanting to come right out and say no, I scramble for another reasonable excuse. “It’s pitch-black out.”

“That’s part of the fun, Coach.”

“Being eaten by a shark that I can’t see coming is not my idea of a good time.”

“How do you know? You ever tried it?”

I clap a hand over my mouth to stop the stem of laughter before I wake up Topher, whose bedroom is just down the hall. From behind my fingers, I burst out, “You’re insane.”

“I’m tryin’ to have us meet in the middle.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” His voice drops to a low, seductive rumble that I feel like a caress all the way down to my toes. “I told you that to feel alive I like to hit rock bottom first—”

“You do realize that rock bottom has a very different connotation when you’re talking about open waters, right? I mean, there’s rock bottom and then there’soceanbottom.”

“—and you toldmethat you feel best when you’re safe.”

At the utter conviction in his tone, I lift my free hand and press it to my chest. Over my heart, which is beating as fast it did when he kissed me, up against a row of high school lockers, and stole my breath away.

Letting my lids fall shut, I simultaneously allow my forehead to kiss the cool glass window. “It’s three in the morning. My son is sleeping down the hall. I’m all he’s got, and while I appreciate you sort of promising to keep me safe from hangry sharks, I can’t just sneak out of my house in the dead of night like I’m fifteen all over again.”

The line descends into silence, long enough for me to question my decision to tell him no.

“Dom, I’m sorry. I—”

“I want your trust.”

The unexpectedness of his words has me accidentally thwacking my forehead on the glass.Ow. I finger the knot, hoping it won’t bruise tomorrow. It’ll be just my luck if it does. “You have it, Dominic.”

“Thirty minutes,” he counters swiftly. “It’s all I’m asking for. Five to get down to the water, five to get back up. Twenty out in the bay. I’ll wear a watch—waterproof, obviously. I promise you, no dillydallying.”

The fact that he—a six-foot-six football player who must weigh close to three-hundred pounds—used the word “dillydallying” makes me crack a grin. “Why are you pushing so hard for this?” I ask softly.

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