I threw myself on the bed, bouncing on my back as I did. “You don’t understand, George. Have you forgotten who he is? Alyx told me he’s Netherlands’ #1 playboy.”
“So?”
“He’s one of the Three Pussketeers.”
“So?”
I growled, “He can’t be serious with me, that’s so!” Peeking at George, I was shocked to see that he didn’t appear worried at all.
“Yanna,” he said patiently, “that may all be true, but it just means one thing. You simply have to work harder to make him serious with you.”
Easier said than done, I thought with a silent grumble as the two of us went down to the poolside half an hour later. He was Constantijin Kastein – a man who might as well have descended from Helen of Troy, with a face that could launch a freaking thousand 747s. And I was just Yanna Everleigh, a twenty-four year old hopeless romantic who had been recently introduced to the illicit pleasures of (almost) sex.
If someone was going to do some convincing, it would no doubt be Constantijin, tempting me to forget all about my inhibitions and just give my virginity away like a freaking lottery prize.
It wasn’t hard to spot Constantijin even with all the bare-chested men around. You just had to follow the trail of sighs, giggles, and whispers and there you have it – Constantijin, wearing a pair of black board shorts that rode sinfully low on his hips. His abs, the muscled V that tapered down under his board shorts, and the chiseled perfection of his face---
Oh my God, if I wasn’t a die-hard virgin, I would have begged him to take me.
Leaning against the bar, elbows propped on the counter, Constantijin scanned the area with obvious impatience. I jerked when he suddenly turned towards my direction, as if he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to my presence. It stole my heart, it really did, and it successfully eroded my No to Relationship-less Sex beliefs by another inch.
His eyes burned bright as he stared at me head to toe, his gaze moving ever so slowly like a visual caress that had me shivering in my modest two-piece.
We met halfway, and Constantijin’s arm immediately curved around my waist, the possessiveness in his hold unmistakable. I was thrilled at his touch, more so when he whispered to my ear, “You look so f**king hot I want to lock you in my room so I can take you for days.”
Same here, I thought with a secret grimace. So totally the same for me, especially with all the women around us staring at him with unconcealed lust.
We walked toward the nearest available lounge chairs, George occupying one while Constantijin joined me on mine. As George started chatting with the guy next to him, I could feel Constantijin’s gaze follow my every movement.
“Allow me,” he said huskily from behind when I took out a bottle of suntan lotion from my bag.
“Constantijin.” It was a very weak protest and we both knew it.
He didn’t bother answering. I heard the clicking sound of the bottle’s lid being opened, the squirt of lotion being released, and then suddenly his hot hands were smearing the cream all over my back.
Even though he was kneading the muscles in my back beautifully, like an expert massage therapist, I couldn’t make myself relax. And when I felt his fingers touching the undersides of my br**sts, I couldn’t help it. I instinctively turned around and slapped his hand away.
“What the---” Constantijin glowered at me. “I swear, Yanna. What is it with you and your tendency to slap?”
“It’s your fault,” I burst out. “You keep taking me by surprise.”
“Can’t you say ‘oh my God’ like a normal girl?”
I flushed. “Well, sorry if I’m not like those normal girls---” I coughed ‘bimbos’ under my breath. “---you date.” I got to my feet, more than a little mad, hurt, and jealous at how he had so unfavorably compared me to his battalion of former lovers.
“Yanna, come back here,” he gritted.
“Never,” I muttered, stalking off.
“Yanna, I’m warning you---”
“Sorry, you’re not my CEO right---” I let out a shriek as I found myself flying and hitting the water a few moments later. I came up thrashing. Gasping for breath, I couldn’t believe someone as supposedly well-mannered as Constantijin Kastein had actually pushed me into the pool.
I whirled around at the sound of his laughter.
“You---”
He laughed harder.
My rage died at the look of genuine amusement on his beautiful face. During the times I was able to watch Constantijin unobserved at our workplace, he was always charming and beautifully mannered, soft-spoken and smiling. But I had never seen him this happy.
Oh, oh, Lord. I was so in trouble with this guy. He made me want to protect him and care for him, which was a ludicrous idea considering he was a foot taller than I was, heavier by a stone, and billions of dollars richer.
“Yanna?” Feeling the movement of water as he walked towards me, I twisted my head around in askance and his lips immediately caught mine. Ah. My Dutch billionaire had gotten the better of me again. I gasped against his lips, but that only made Constantijin chuckle before deepening his kiss. The kiss was hot and wet, a carnal encounter between our mouths that had me silently moaning and wishing we weren’t in such a very public place.
I could only stare at him by the time he lifted his head, shocked at how my body still ached for his touch even though I could feel the pointed glares of other women around us. I couldn’t blame them. If I were in their shoes, I would have been envious after such our extreme bout of PDA.
But Constantijin didn’t seem to be aware of how every woman within five meters was stared at him hungrily. He only had eyes for me, and that, too, was effective in eroding my inhibitions by a few more inches. If I didn’t put a stop to this, I could find myself raping him in the end.
His eyes blazing with need and desire, he said, “Let’s swim, Yanna.”
Oh, let’s, especially when he said the words like he was saying “let’s f**k” instead.
Only a few couples were in the water with us, and all of them occupied the shallower end of the pool. Constantijin started to laugh when he saw me clutching the sides of the pool the moment we reached the five-foot mark.
“Don’t you know how to swim?”
“I do,” I said haughtily. At his knowing look, I grumbled, “But I don’t know how to float.”
He laughed harder. “You are too adorable for words, schat.”