His lip curled up into a half-smile. “You don’t. You’re done.” Again he reached his hand toward me.
Ignoring his offer, I broadened my smile and turned up the charm. “Ah, you’re one of those kinds of men.”
He let his hand fall and tilted his head questioningly. “Which kind is that?”
Behind his lenses, I felt the command of his stare, and even in his crouched position, he held himself with utter confidence. My eyes chased the broad muscles in his neck that disappeared under his robe. They, along with his entire demeanor, demanded my respect or, more likely, my capitulation.
Yeah, I knew his type. “The kind who gets what he wants when he wants it.”
“Well. Yes.” He chuckled as he, yet again, extended his hand out for me.
I was tempted to swim another lap. But I didn’t have enough sense about him yet to know if that would piss him off or intrigue him. So I said, “I got it,” and refused his hand, pulling myself up over the side on my own. I did know it was too early for physical contact. My exit of the pool was on his terms but our first touch would be on mine.
“Oh, you’re one of those kinds of women.” He stood with me and handed me a towel with SALLIS embroidered along the edge in gold.
I took it. I was dripping all over his bare feet, after all. And while I’d felt covered in the clear water, I now felt nearly naked in my salmon-colored bikini. Which was the point, but still. “Okay,” I said, as I wrapped the terrycloth around the ends of my hair. “I’ll bite. What kind of woman is that?”
“The kind who won’t take help from a man.”
There had been a time when nothing could be further from the truth. I’d been very dependent on men, relying on one or another of them to put a roof over my head, keep me fed and clothed and entertained.
But that was years ago. Now I only counted on myself. That was perhaps the hardest part of the role I had to play – giving up the control I’d gained. Submitting.
If that was what it took to get the answers I needed, I’d do that and more.
I tilted my head to squeeze the moisture from my hair onto the ground next to me. “That’s not so. I took your towel.”
His eyes were still hidden, but I knew he was checking me out. I could feel his gaze skidding across my skin, sending goose bumps up my arms. “That’s nothing.” His attention landed on my breasts. “There are hundreds of towels stacked around here.”
My cheeks heated, sure that his choice of the word stacked was purposeful. Because there was no denying that’s what I was – stacked. My breasts had come in early and grew rapidly, swelling until I filled a double-D cup. They’d embarrassed me as a teen. No one else flopped and jiggled like I did in gym class. So I hid them behind baggy shirts and sports bras. It wasn’t until I’d met Amber that I realized the power I’d been given through genetics. She taught me how to embrace my body, how to use it for my benefit.
With those lessons in mind – with Amber in mind – I pushed away my discomfort and bent over to run the towel up and down my limbs, exposing my cleavage. “That’s proof that you’re wrong. I could have easily gotten my own. I accepted it from you.”
“You have a point there.”
I had two points, actually. My nipples were standing tall and proud. It was the morning chill, of course, more pronounced after the heated pool, and I wanted to fold my arms over myself when I stood back up. But I forced myself to follow their example and rose up as tall and proud as they were.
When I did, I was met with my shoes. Reeve must have gotten them while I was swimming. He held them out to me now.
With a sigh, I took them from him. “You really want me gone, don’t you?”
“What can I say? I like my routine. Swimming alone is part of my routine.”
“Huh. I didn’t take you for a man who was rigid.” The media made Reeve Sallis out as impulsive and erratic. I was familiar enough with the difference between public perception and reality, but knowing Amber as I did, it made more sense that Reeve was that guy than the one he was playing at now.
He clicked his tongue at me like he was chiding a naughty child. “Now look who’s making premature judgments.”
“Touché.” I sat on a deck chair to buckle my sandals. Leaning over to do it would have just been gratuitous at this point.
“But while I’ve got you here…”
I tensed as he undid the belt of his robe. I can do this, I can do this, I chanted to myself. This was what I’d come here for – to do what was necessary, no matter how much I didn’t want to. Back then, I would have done far more for far less. And, I noted as Reeve discarded the item of clothing on the chair behind him, with far less attractive men.
Goddamn, Reeve Sallis was hot.
Like, sizzling hot. He wore nothing but trunks – thank the Lord it wasn’t a Speedo – revealing a perfect swimmer’s body. His arms and torso were long and sculpted, his shoulders broad, and his waist trim. The six-pack he sported was nearly an eight-pack, and the muscles around his abdomen were so defined, so hard that I barely resisted the urge to lay my hand across them. My mind couldn’t process how solid they would feel beneath my palm and wouldn’t it be amazing to just find out?
While I was ogling – and probably drooling and definitely not breathing – he sat on the chair and faced me. “I hope you don’t mind. I was getting a little warm.”
It was getting a little warm. More than a little. And it wasn’t the modern fire pit running nearly the entire length of the pool behind our deck chairs that made my skin scorch on the inside.