Page 74 of Reckless King

I look back at him, studiously keeping my focus on his face. “No, of course not.”

“No? So you’ll come swimming with me, then? It’s warm out there. It would be a shame to miss out on a refreshing dip just because you’re worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

A niggle of annoyance joins the lust coursing through my veins. I huff out a breath. That cocky attitude has me riled up enough to clear away the fog in my mind.

Two can play the game he’s started. I turn to face him fully and bring my hands to the top button of my blouse. “Actually, I’d love to get wet,” I say, keeping my voice low and breathy.

His pupils blow wide as I slowly work the first button open, letting the material gape slightly.

Though the button of his pants is undone, the zipper is still up. His waistband sits low on his hips as he takes a step closer, his focus on where I’m toying with the second button.

I haven’t thought through my plan, where I’ll go from here or how far I’ll take it. With Tate, I have a bad habit of acting first and thinking later. He’s a master at throwing me off-kilter when what I desperately want is to feel in control. But it’s virtually impossible to feel in control when he’s standing in front of me with no shirt on and his pants undone.

“You need help with that, butterfly?” His voice has gone low. The hint of gravel in his tone makes my nipples peak.

I slip the second button free, revealing the lace of my bra. The responding heat in his gaze makes my stomach flip. But it has to stop here. If not, it would be too easy to get carried away, to let himhelp. To let him slip the thin material of my blouse from my shoulders. The desire to have his hands on me again is getting harder and harder to resist.

I’m wavering, torn between what my body wants and what my head is telling me. I’m fixated on the middle of his chest, unwilling to look lower and afraid of what I’ll see if I look at his face.

My avoidance tactic is thwarted when Tate moves closer, forcing me to meet his gaze. His golden eyes move between mine, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. As if he can senseevery thought racing through my head. “I just want to swim with you, beautiful. That’s all.”

Of course he does. Here I am, imagining all the ways I want him to touch me, and he’s just being his usual flirtatious self. He knows that if we were to get physical, I’d end up wanting more. And more is the last thing he wants. I’m letting myself get confused again, swept up in his charm and kindness and inherent sexiness, forgetting that charming women is what Tate does best.

I take a step back, but he cups the nape of my neck, pulling me closer again, and lowers his head. “Please come for a swim with me.”

Though my embarrassment lingers, I remind myself that Tate and I have to share this apartment for a while, so I might as well practice spending time near him, whether he’s dressed or half-dressed, without losing my composure. With any luck, it won’t be long before I barely notice how hot he is. We’ll become like… like roommates. Roommates who occasionally kiss in public.

“Okay. I’ll go get changed.”

He lets go of me, and I spin away from him and take off for my room as he stoops to pick up the shirt he dropped during his impromptu strip tease.

Once in my room, I sort through my clothes. A woman dropped off neatly packed suitcases filled with my clothes and toiletries this morning, and luckily, she included my swimsuit. As I pull on the pretty turquoise string bikini, I wish I was the kind of woman who preferred one-pieces, or better yet, those old-fashioned bathing suits that would cover me from my knees to my neck. With this on, I’m guaranteed to feel more exposed than I’m comfortable with when in the presence of a man who probably regularly sleeps with supermodels.

Taking a deep breath, I leave my room and make my way out to the terrace.

As I approach the glass door, I watch Tate. He’s in the pool, with his back to me. He has his arms resting on the edge, and he’s looking out over the sweeping city view.

I slide the door and step out, nerves raging inside me despite the pep talk I gave myself the whole way here. At the sound, Tate turns and leans back against the side, giving me a long once-over.

I’m frozen at the edge, my body heating under his perusal.

“Better get in the water.” That gravel in his voice is back.

With a darting glance at him, I lower myself down and slide in. The water is cool, but not cold. Refreshing on such a warm day, just as he promised.

I let out a sigh and fully submerge myself, letting the cool liquid rush and bubble over my hot skin. When I surface, pushing my wet hair back from my face and blinking my eyes clear, Tate is watching me with a strange kind of intensity. “Are you going to come over here?”

“I’m not sure I want to get that close to the edge.” I give him a self-conscious smile. I’m not scared of heights, not really. But just the thought of standing at the edge of an infinity pool on the side of a high-rise makes my stomach roll with nerves.

With a low hum, he wades toward me, and oh god, the way the sun reflects off the drops of water trickling down the sculpted muscles of his chest should be illegal. I look away, but when he comes to a stop in front of me, I can’t ignore his presence. As I turn back, he reaches up and brushes his knuckles down my cheek.

The light contact pulls a shuddery breath from my lungs, making his lips tip up just a little.

“I thought I was the one who was going to have trouble keeping my hands off you,” I say.

“I never said I wouldn’t have the same problem.”

The rush of blood in my ears is loud enough to drown out the water lapping against the side of the pool. If I were to touch him right now, slide my hands along his smooth, wet skin, I have no doubt we’d both lose control. The hunger in his eyes makes that clear. He must be going out of his mind with pent-up sexual desire, considering our agreement requires him to be celibate. As for me, I can’t stop thinking about that night at the club.

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