She nodded. Didn’t know what to say.
The silence stretched, soft and heavy, broken only by the gentle lap of water against the pool tiles and the distant hum of the city far below. Jax watched her for a long moment—eyes dark, unreadable in the turquoise glow—then set his empty champagne flute on the low table with a quiet clink.
Without another word, he stood.
He peeled off his shirt in one fluid motion, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he dropped it onto the lounger. Shorts followed, kicked aside carelessly. Boxers last. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pose—just stripped down like it was the most natural thing in the world and walked to the edge of the pool.
He glanced back at her once, a small, wicked grin curling his mouth.
Then he dove.
Clean entry, barely a splash. The water swallowed him whole for a second before he surfaced a few meters out, shaking his head,droplets flying in an arc that caught the lights like sparks. He treaded water lazily, arms spread, grinning up at her like the world’s most dangerous dare.
“Come on.”
Her pulse kicked hard against her ribs.
“I don’t have my bikini.”
“Didn’t stop me.”
Water streamed down his chest, tracing the carved lines of muscle, pooling in the hollows above his collarbones before sliding lower. He looked dangerous. Beautiful. Completely unapologetic.
She stood slowly.
Kicked off her heels—one, then the other—bare feet silent on the warm deck tiles.
Her fingers found the zipper at the side of her dress. She tugged it down inch by inch, feeling the silk part like liquid over her skin. The fabric whispered as she let it fall—pooling dark and shimmering at her feet.
No underwear.
Just her, naked under the stars, skin prickling in the night air, nipples tightening instantly from the cool breeze off the water.
Jax’s gaze never left her. Dark. Hungry. Patient.
She walked to the edge. Toes curled over the lip.
Then she dove.
The water closed over her head—warm, silken, a shock of sensation after the dry heat of the terrace. She surfaced gasping, laughing despite herself, hair slicked back, mascara probablyrunning in black streaks. Jax was already closing the distance, cutting through the water with easy, powerful strokes.
They collided in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
Splashing. Chasing. Ducking under each other like teenagers who’d forgotten everything else. She lunged at him; he caught her wrists, spun her until her back was against his chest, his arms banding around her waist. She twisted free, laughing, only for him to catch her again—gentler this time.
The play slowed.
His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. Her breath hitched.
He turned her in the water until they were face to face.
She wrapped her legs around his waist on instinct. His hands cupped her ass, holding her up effortlessly, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp.
He groaned into her mouth, then pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.
With a firm grip under her thighs, he lifted her higher—perching her up against the smooth tile wall so her breasts rose clear above the waterline, droplets sliding down the curves in slow, glittering trails. The night air hit her wet skin, making her nipples pebble into tight, aching points.
He lowered his head.
