knew I was asking about Chance and tensed for a moment, and then she deliberately avoided the subject. “I shouldn’t be. The code is working perfectly. But...” She shrugged.
I’d been looking into Chance Donovan and had a few thoughts on the bastard CEO. But I didn’t want to add to her stress.
So, even though Lily in a sexy swimsuit and within touching distance was so not a good idea, I jerked my head toward the stairs anyway. “Go get changed. I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking relieved that I’d let the matter drop.
I stayed at the bottom of the stairs, unable to take my eyes off her perfect ass as she sprinted upstairs. Yeah, I was a glutton for punishment.
That punishment increased a hundredfold the moment she entered the living room. My hand froze on the French doors, and I swallowed hard.
She was wearing a see-through black mesh T-shirt over a burnt-orange bikini. Two things struck me hard just then. First, that while her signature black suited her alabaster complexion, the dark orange was even more flattering, drawing attention to her pint-size perfection.
Second, that the wall I’d built to contain my insane attraction and strict rules didn’t stand a chance of staying up.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her eyes a little wide as she took in the joggers and T-shirt I’d changed into.
Fuck, no. “Sure.” I held the door open for her.
She walked past me, trailing light, sensual perfume that made me want to bury my face in her neck. Her back view was just as spectacular as her front, the tight globes of her ass barely contained in the bikini bottom.
A dangerously high percentage of blood rushed south, emptying my head of every thought except the one that fixated on what I wanted to do to her body. “How long do you need?” I croaked, dropping onto the lounger and hitching up one leg before she turned and saw the steel rod tenting my pants.
She paused at the edge of the pool and glanced over her shoulder. The setting sun’s rays worshipped her cheek, her arms, her stomach and thighs. “I normally swim a hundred laps. So...forty-five minutes?” she murmured.
“Yeah. Fine.” Wow, you’ll be drooling like a brain-dead idiot next.
She grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. A groan rumbled up my throat as she dove cleanly into the water with the smoothness of a practiced athlete.
It took twenty laps for me to get myself back under acceptable control. Of course she chose that moment to pause at the far end of the pool to smooth back her wet hair and slowly swivel her head until her gaze rested on me. Her lips parted as she sucked in air to regain her breath.
She didn’t utter a word. Neither did I. And yet, a thousand conversations passed between us.
Later, I would appreciate that this was the moment we both accepted that we were far from done with each other. That the rules and barriers and words we’d thrown up in an attempt to stop this sexual juggernaut stood no chance.
She clung to the edge of the pool for a full minute, her sexy green eyes never wavering from mine. Then with a lithe twist of her body, she dove underwater.
Every cell in my body wanted to join her. If for nothing else, to cool down before the top of my head blew clean off. But I stayed put, counted down her laps until she reached ninety-eight.
I jumped up, grabbed a towel from the stack next to the lounger and was waiting when she climbed the shallow steps.
Just like last time, delicious droplets clung to her skin. I wanted to lick each and every one off, then concentrate on licking her between her legs.
Instead, I held out the towel. Her eyes met and clung to mine as she accepted it and wrapped it around her body. “Thanks.”
My eyes drifted to the wet curl clinging to her cheek. Unable to resist, I smoothed it behind her ear, then went to retrieve her T-shirt.
“Let’s get you inside.” I didn’t give one tiny shit that my voice was a gruff mess. Or that my cock still stood at attention. I saw her eyes drop to it before, reddening, she glanced away.
She followed me inside and lingered in the living room as I locked the doors. “Drink?” I needed one badly before I did something foolish.
She passed the towel through her hair before lowering it. “Umm... I shouldn’t.”
I handed back her T-shirt. “That doesn’t sound like a definite no,” I said, then held up my hands. “But I’m not trying to corrupt you or anything so if you want to head up to bed, don’t let me stop you.” The breath trapped in my lungs told a different story to the words falling from my mouth. I wanted her to stay. Badly.
She dropped the towel on the coffee table and shook her head. “No. I’ll just lie in bed worrying about stuff. Or I’ll be tempted to tinker with the code some more. Bad idea,” she said with a laugh.
It was the first time I’d heard her laugh. The soft, tinkling sound hooked into me, feeding a need to hear more of it. “Okay, so what do you do to distract yourself?”
She looked away, fidgeted, then dragged the T-shirt over her head. “I normally read. Or watch a movie downstairs...”
It was an easy decision. “I vote for downstairs.” She had a bar down there, after all. “I’ll have a drink. You can join me. Or not.” I cocked an eyebrow.
The barest hint of a smile curved her mouth as her gaze touched on my brow. “I get to pick the movie.”
I shrugged. “Your theater, your choice. I’m just coming for the booze.”
Her smile widened a little more.
We went down together, her bare feet slapping lightly on the polished wood. I crossed to the bar shelves stacked with expensive alcohol. She went to the sweets stand and returned with a large cone cup filled with assorted candy.
She popped a pink marshmallow into her mouth, then held out the cup to me. I chose a jellybean and pointed it at her. “These things will rot your teeth.”
“Luckily I have an excellent dental plan.” Her sexy grin exhibited perfect teeth.
I refocused on pouring my bourbon. “You sure you don’t want anything?”
She inspected the row of drink bottles behind me. “Okay, I’ll have a lemondrop martini, please.”
I laughed. “You folded much easier than I thought you would.”
She plucked another marshmallow from her supply before placing the cup on the counter. “I rarely fix it myself because it never comes out right. You look...comfortable behind the bar, like you know what you’re doing.”
Our eyes met. Locked. “So this is a test?”
Her lips slowly parted. “Maybe.”
“And if I pass?”
Her
