Compared to him, I’m just—Nothing.
I shake my head hard, but the thought lingers. No matter how much I try to brush it off, the water keeps pulling me in. I take another step forward, my foot passing the edge, just to see what it feels like, and I can’t tell if the feeling in my chest is fear or longing.
“Lucas.”
I jolt violently, the voice sharp against the quiet.
Too sharp.
My foot slips. My breath catches.
And then—I’m falling.
***
Cold. The shock of it, the way it slams into my body like a wall. My breath catches as the water swallows me whole, my limbs flailing on instinct. I can’t swim. And for some weird reason, the pool feels too deep. Panic spikes through me, fast and sharp, my arms and legs claw at nothing, but before I can even process it, something grabs me.
A firm, unyielding grip—strong hands closing around my arms, pulling me up, dragging me toward the surface, air tears into my lungs in ragged gulps.
I gasp as I break through, choking slightly, but I’m not given much time to recover before I feel myself being hauled toward the pool’s edge.
Alexander.
I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. I feel the heat of his body, the strength in his grip. His movements are fast, not a second of hesitation in the way he pulls me against him, before I know it, my back hits the pool wall, and suddenly, I feel pinned.
My chest is rising and falling quickly, my fingers gripping onto him without thinking—his biceps, his shoulders, anything solid.
I feel him everywhere, the press of his body against mine, the way the water clings to our skin, making everything stick.
His face is close. Too close.
His eyes burn into mine, sharp and intense even in the dim evening light of the balcony.
I can’t breathe, I don’t know if it’s from almost choking in the water or if it’s the way Alexander’s body wraps around me.
“Breathe, Lucas,” he says, his voice is low and muffled in my ear but there is a command to it.
I amtrying to.
He exhales, his fingers flexing against my arms before he softens just a fraction. His grip on my waist loosened, though, if anything, it feels like he’s holding me even closer now.
“What were you thinking, standing there like that?” he mutters, brows furrowing.
“I—” I start, but don’t even know what to say.
I can’t think straight. Not with the way he’s looking at me. Not with the way his hair drips, strands plastered against his forehead, water sliding down his cheekbones like the universe itself wanted to trace him. He looks breathtaking, untouchable, and devastatingly handsome.
His thumb grazes my skin, barely there, but enough to make me shiver, chest pressed to mine, broad and solid, heat seeping through the cold water. I can feel his heart against me. Or maybe it’s just mine, hammering too loud, too fast.
And his lips…fuck, they’re so close to mine. So close I can’t think about anything else. My brain stutters, buffering, like it can’t process the possibility of what might happen if he just leans forward an inch.
I swallow hard. My breathing is uneven, desperate to steady itself but failing miserably. Everything feels magnified—the warmth of his skin against mine, the water between us, the faint brush of his breath over my face. I know he feels the same way. He has to. His eyes flicker, sharp blue darkening under the pool light, his jaw tightening like he’s fighting something.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then, slowly, his gaze drops down to my lips.
The air thickens, charged with something so potent it knots low in my stomach. Heat spreads through me, a slow ache curling in my chest and unfurling lower and lower, until I’m clinging tighter without even realizing it. I want him to kiss me. I want it so badly it hurts. I don’t even realize I’m gripping him tighter.
