Page 8 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I want to swim. I didn’t get a chance to swim yet. And the pool is sooooo pretty. It’s why I picked this resort.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You can swim tomorrow. Let’s just get you back to your room.”
She ignored me, skipping toward the pool like a little girl. “Oooh, it’s even prettier than it looked online. Let’s swim.”
“No.”
I followed her to the edge of the water, where she dropped her purse, stepped out of her heels, and began stripping off her dress.
“Please don’t do that,” I begged.
She had no business swimming after drinking as much as she had tonight.
AndIhad no business seeing her with her clothes off.
That didn’t seem to concern Red at the moment. She worked the dress—which had apparently required going braless—down her body, giving me a perfect view of her thong panties.
Whoa.Instant hard-on. A natural but completely inappropriate physical reaction, considering the circumstances.
The panties were spectacular, white and covered with sparkling crystals. Those she kept on, much to my relief.
And disappointment.
No—I was relieved. I didnotneed to see any more of that beautiful body, which was about as off-limits as it could possibly get.
She maylooklike a hot woman, but at this moment she is ninety-nine percent alcohol and one percent herself.
I picked up the dress she’d just stepped out of, hoping to convince her to put it backon, when she jumped in.
Shit.
This was bad. I looked around, hoping to see my friends passing by or maybe Red’s sister coming back to check on her. She’d been right—you couldn’t make someone else do something.
And apparently you couldn’t keep someone from skinny dipping when they were determined to.
Red resurfaced, treading water and looking up at me like some kind of damn magical mermaid. The underwater lighting showed me an enticing outline of her figure, her bare breasts blurred just beneath the surface.
The inappropriate hard-on grew harder still. I took a seat on the end of a chaise lounge.
Better.
From this vantage point, all I could see was her head. I’d watch it like a bobber at the end of a fishing line. If it went under, I’d jump in and save her.
She splashed some water in my direction, wetting my toes. “What’s the matter? Can’t you swim?” she teased.
“I can swim,” I assured her. In fact, swimming for at least an hour every day was part of my training routine along with running and weightlifting.
Naturally, I wouldn’t be telling Red about that.
“I’m a great swimmer,” she assured me in a slur that made the last word sound likeschwimmer.
I chuckled. “I’m sure you are.”
“Bet I could beat you in a race,” she challenged with a cocky grin. “Loser has to jump from the top of the waterfall.”
“No one’s jumping from the top of the waterfall,” I said in a firm tone. If she tried it, I’d forget politeness and pick her up and carry her half naked and wet back to her room. “And I’m not going to race you.”
