“Gotcha,” he says, voice low now.
My pulse trips. The laughter is still in my chest, but it’s tangled with something hotter, heavier. His thumbs stroke over my hips underwater, slow and deliberate.
“You’re cheating,” I manage.
“Always,” he murmurs, leaning in.
The cool edge of the pool presses against my back as his body crowds mine, heat radiating between us even with water lapping around our shoulders. He kisses me—slow at first, tasting of salt and sunshine—then deeper, hungrier.
His hands roam under the surface, sliding up my back, pulling me closer until we’re flush from chest to thigh. My legs hook around his waist without me thinking about it, water sloshing against the infinity edge as we move.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the view—the ocean spilling into the horizon, palm trees swaying—but mostly, all I can focus on is Ash, his mouth on mine, and the way the world narrows down to this weightless, heated tangle.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless. He grins, hair slicked back, eyes bright.
“Best vacation activity,” he says.
“Swimming?” I tease.
“Kissing you in swimming pools,” he corrects, before pulling me back in.
By the time we finally drag ourselves out of the pool, the afternoon sun hangs high and bright, spilling heat over my skin. My hair drips down my back, my limbs loose and languid from the water. Ash tosses me a towel with that lazy, satisfied smirk that says he knows exactly why I’m smiling.
I take a quick peek at my phone. A text is waiting:
Nina:
How’s the engagement moon?
I snap a photo of our villa—the infinity pool, the ridiculous blue sky—and send it back. Three little dots pop up.
Nina:
Now that’s just plain rude.
Olive:
You asked…
Nina:
How’s Mr. Rockstar?
Olive:
Delicious.
I stifle a laugh when an eggplant emoji pops up on the screen. Looking up, I notice Ash has already planned our next indulgence.
Olive:
Gotta go. Love you.
Nina:
Love you more. Go enjoy your fiancé. Also: sunscreen your ears!!
Olive:
