The knock sounded a third time, softer now, almost hesitant. My fingers trembled as they curled around the handle, the metal biting cold. I cracked the door an inch, peering into the night-veiled balcony. Empty. Just the lagoon's silver gleam beyond the railing, stars pricking the velvet sky like distant warnings. I exhaled shakily, ready to dismiss it as nerves, when a shadow detached from the potted ferns at the corner—tall, solid,him.
Keith vaulted over the low railing in a fluid motion, landing with barely a whisper on the balcony floor. I jolted back, a scream clawing up my throat—oh God, the hands, it's the hands—but his palm clamped over my mouth before the sound could escape, warm and firm, his body crowding the doorway like a storm front. "Shh," he murmured, voice a low rumble against my ear, his breath stirring the loose strands at my temple. "It's me."
I froze, eyes wide over his fingers, the scent of him. Salt and smoke and something darker, like aged oak flooding my senses. He eased his hand away slowly, as if I might shatter, his gaze locking on mine in the dim spill of lamplight. Up close like this, uninvited and midnight-wild, he was a force with his hair tousled, the gash on his forearm bandaged hastily, a shadow of stubble darkening that chiseled jaw. Those eyes, piercing, unyielding held no trace of the day's fatigue. Only intent.
"What thehellare you doing here?" I whispered, voice cracking as I stepped back, clutching the cloak tighter. My heart hadn't slowed, hammering with a mix of fear and that treacherous pull, the one that made my skin hum where he'd touched.
He straightened, filling the space with effortless command, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips. Dimples flickering like a secret. "Couldn't sleep." Simple, as if that explained scaling balconies in the dead of night. "The accident... it lingers. Thought you might be up too. Saw your light from the path." He nodded toward the door, unapologetic. "Knocked. Figured you'd want to know I'm in one piece."
Guilt twisted sharper, mingling with the adrenaline. "I... yeah. I was worried. The scaffold, that could've been bad. Are you—"
"Stupid risks come with the territory." He shrugged, but his eyes softened, tracing my face like he was mapping cracks. "The pool helped last time. Come with me? Just to sit. Clear the air."
I should have said no. Sent him away, locked the doors, buried myself under the covers until dawn chased the shadows. But there was that aura of his. Demanding, magnetic, wrapping around melike the humid night air, pulling without force. And beneath it, the worry I'd nursed all evening, now blooming into something warmer, reckless. "Okay," I breathed, before reason could catch up. "Just... to sit."
The infinity pool gleamed under the moon like a sheet of polished obsidian, golden lights tracing its edges in a soft, ethereal glow. The resort slumbered around us, the only sounds the waves' eternal hush and our footsteps on the dew-kissed path. Keith moved with that predatory grace, shedding his shirt once we reached the water's edge. Muscles shifting under tanned skin, the scar on his chest a pale slash in the low light. He slipped in without a ripple, the water embracing him up to his waist, and beckoned me closer.
"Try it," he said, voice laced with quiet challenge, extending a hand from the shallows. "The pool. It's not the ocean. Shallow enough to stand."
I hesitated at the edge, toes curling against the cool tile, the emerald gown whispering against my thighs. "I can't swim. You know that."
His gaze didn't waver, steady as the stars overhead. "Then don't. Just wade. I'm here." That demanding pull again, wrapped in reassurance, and damn him. Damn the way his presence made denial feel like surrender. He was magnetic, all broad shoulders and shadowed intensity, the bandage on his arm a stark reminder of his vulnerability, and it tugged at me, made me bold in a way I wasn't.
With a steadying breath, I unbelted the cloak, letting it pool at my feet like spilled ink. The night air kissed my skin, raising gooseflesh along my arms, my legs bare and curving into the gown's short hem, the silk clinging to the swell of my hips, the dipof my waist, tracing the full lines of my breasts with shameless intimacy.
I reached up, fingers threading through my hair to untwist the bun, and let the waves tumble free. Dark, wild fringes cascading to my waist in a silken curtain, catching the moonlight like threads of night itself. His eyes darkened, a flicker of heat breaking the calm, but he said nothing, just watched as I dipped a toe into the water, then another, the cool embrace sending a shiver up my spine.
I eased in deeper, the water lapping at my calves, my thighs, until it kissed the gown's hem. Keith closed the distance in two strides, the pool barely reaching his hips, his hand finding mine. Warm, callused, anchoring. "Here," he murmured, and I took it, stepping forward. But the sudden buoyancy caught me off guard. My feet skimmed the bottom unevenly, and panic flared—sinking, pulling under—legs kicking instinctively as I pitched forward.
He was there in an instant, his free arm snaking around my waist, hauling me flush against him with effortless strength. I floated against his chest, tiny and trembling in his hold, the water buoying me higher so my legs brushed his. My hands flew up, palms splaying across the vast, smooth plane of his shaved chest. Hard muscle under velvet skin, rising and falling with his breath, the faint rasp of chest hair absent, leaving only heat and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He was immense up close, a wall of power that dwarfed me, my fingers spanning barely a fraction of his breadth.
Our eyes locked, breaths mingling in the charged space between us. His gray storms meeting my wide ambre, the world narrowing to the ripple of water, the golden lights dancing on his lashes. His grip firm at my waist, thumbs grazing the bare skin where gown met my hip. My body arching instinctively closer, curves moldingto the ridges of him. Heat pooled low in my belly, unbidden, the dread from earlier dissolving into something electric, alive.
"Breathe," he said softly, voice a velvet command that vibrated through his chest into mine. "Calm yourself. Take your legs off my waist."
I blinked, mortification flooding in as I realized. Yes, in my flail, they'd hooked around him, thighs clamping like a lifeline. Heat scorched my cheeks, but I obeyed, easing them down, feet finding tentative purchase on the pool floor with his guidance. He kept one hand at my waist, the other capturing mine again, leading me in a slow circuit through the shallows. Step, pause, step—like a dance with the water as our reluctant partner.
"Better?" he asked, after a loop, his thumb tracing idle circles on my knuckles.
I nodded, the panic ebbing into a strange, buoyant peace. The water's cool caress, his solid warmth, the stars wheeling overhead. "A lot better. Thank you." My voice was hushed, laced with wonder, and for the first time that night, the guilt loosened its grip. He was alright.Wewere.
Then footsteps, crisp and urgent on the path. Victor materialized from the shadows, his suit impeccable even at this hour, expression tightening at the sight of us. Keith's arm still loose around my waist, my gown translucent in the water, hair a dark halo. Shock flickered in his eyes. But he composed it into professional lines. "Mr. Krogen, apologies. An urgent matter requires your attention."
Keith's jaw clenched, the moment shattering like glass underfoot. He nodded once, sharp, and turned, guiding me toward the pool's edge with a hand at my elbow. "Go on," Keith said, averting hisgaze as I climbed out, water gliding down my legs in rivulets, the gown plastered to my curves like a second skin.
But as my feet hit the tile, Keith's voice sliced through, rude and remote like ice where there'd been fire. "Put your cloak on. And don’t wander around the resort dressed like that." He didn't look back, striding out with Victor, his broad back a wall against the night.
Confusion crashed over me, hot and stinging, chasing the warmth from my skin. One breath he'd been holding me like a secret, the next? Dismissed, scolded, like I was some careless girl playing at temptation.What the hell?I snatched the cloak, wrapping it tight, the fabric a poor barrier against the chill settling in my bones.
Back in my room, the mirror betrayed me. The gown outlined everything. The swell of my breasts, nipples peaked from the cold and the memory of his touch, stark against the silk. Mortification burned anew, and I peeled it off, trading it for dry cotton shorts and a tank, the mundane fabric a rebuke to the night's recklessness.
I crawled into bed, the sheets cool and unforgiving, but as I lay there, replaying it all. The pull of his hand, the steel of his chest, that fractured gaze dread mingled with a quieter ache. He was a riddle wrapped in rudeness, luxury-bred but scarred in ways I couldn't name, and I'd let him in, just a crack. Sleep tugged at me finally, heavy and inevitable, pulling me under not with hands, but with the echo of his voice.
Chapter 7
Keith
Victor's voice cut through the night like a blade, pulling me back from the haze of the moment. "Mr. Krogen, apologies. An urgent matter requires your attention."
