As she walks, their eyes track her, and when she reaches me, I catch one asshole’s gaze and stare at him until he turns away.
“Gabe?” she asks questioningly.
I grunt. “Let’s get in the water.”
We climb into the spa, and it’s amazing on my aching body. I slide onto one of the benches along the edge and lift her onto my lap, so her ass is nestled over my dick. I don’t care if it’s too much PDA, all of these people need to know that this incredible woman is with me. Not to mention that it feels like days have passed since I last had her, rather than hours.
“I love this bikini.” I rest one of my hands on her hip and the other on her thigh to hold her in place. “I haven’t seen it before.” If I had, I’d have lost my shit. Heads would’ve rolled. Any guy who looked at her sideways would have known my wrath. And considering we were “just friends,” that would’ve been awkward as hell to explain.
“We haven’t been to the pool together in years,” she says.
“That can’t be right.” I think back, but I don’t recall any instance of us doing this since she left medical school and I went pro in the MMA circuit. Maybe we instinctively knew there were some lines we shouldn’t cross. Some things friends aren’t meant to see. “Well, I was missing out.”
She leans back, resting her weight on my chest so I can see her face, and smiles mischievously. “Yes, you were.”
We soak for a while longer, and as we do, we talk, catching up on all the parts of each other’s lives we’ve gotten behind on recently.
“Does this feel weird to you?” I ask after a while. “You and me, together.”
She studies me carefully, like she’s wary of where I’m going with the question. “Actually, no. It feels natural.”
I smile, and kiss her. “I thought so too. I expected it to be more of an adjustment, but being with you, I feel more myself than I have in ages.”
Her eyes fill with tenderness. “Good.
We kiss again. Then, determined not to be one of those people who make others uncomfortable with their public exploits, I leave Sydney in the spa and swim a few dozen lengths of the pool. By the time I return, I’m far more in control of my hormones. At least, I am until I see that the vultures have descended. Sydney has been joined by a bulky black guy with broad shoulders that suggest he spends a lot of time swimming. He’s wearing speedos that are practically indecent, and leaning far too close to her for my comfort.
“Who are you?” I bark as I rest a possessive hand on her shoulder.
The guy raises a brow. He’s tall and muscular—much the same size as me, which is fairly unusual—and clearly isn’t used to anyone questioning him.
“Dean,” he says. “And if you don’t mind, I’m having a conversation with Sydney.”
“Your conversation is over. Sydney’s leaving now.”
He glances at her, as if to check whether she needs help. Like I’m a crazy stalker or some shit.
“It was nice to meet you, Dean,” she says, completely unaffected by my rudeness. “This is my boyfriend, Gabe. The one I was telling you about.”
Satisfaction rips through me. That’s my girl.
“Ah.” His expression tells me he thought she’d been lying to put him off. Then he gives me a second look. “Gabe Mendoza? Fuckin’ hell, I’m sorry, man. Didn’t realize she was spoken for.”
Narrowing my eyes, I give him my meanest glare. Sometimes there are benefits to being a public figure. “Yeah, well, she is. Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.”
Sydney stands and takes the stairs out of the spa. When jerkface’s eyes drop to her ass, I give him a pointed look. He shrinks back against the wall.
Yeah, that’s what I thought. Coward.
“I told him I was here with someone,” Sydney says as she wraps a towel around herself and pads toward the exit.
“I know you did. Some guys are crap at listening. Hey, come on.” I grab her hand and lead her to the counter, where the woman behind the desk glances up expectantly.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“We’d like to rent one of the private spas,” I say, resting my hand on the small of Sydney’s back so no one else can mistake her for being available.
The woman nods. “For how long?”
