After slipping into the pool house and changing, then grabbing a towel, I made my way out to the comfortable lounge chairs surrounding the infinity-edge pool that overlooked the Gulf of Mexico. As I walked, I paid close attention to the breeze—a little cooler than I’d anticipated—on my exposed skin, the way my breasts were lifted and full, as well as the tickle of the strings along my hips. For the first time in a long time, I felt like the woman I was instead of the gangly teenager Kitty wanted me to forever remain.
Today the sun was bright overhead, the sky a brilliant blue with only a few wisps of clouds farther out over the ocean, the breeze carrying with it the scent of saltwater and sand. Perfect weather to relax in.
Lying back on the cushioned chair, I brushed my hair back from my face and basked in the warmth of the sun. In the distance, I could hear the crash of waves against the shore and the seagulls chattering incessantly.
It was nice.
And yet I couldn’t seem to relax, my gaze frequently skimming the back of the house wondering if Kitty was lurking or, worse, one of the staff was snapping pictures to share with my stepmother.
She wasn’t here, I reminded myself. Plus, tomorrow was my birthday. Surely Kitty could forgive one minor infraction today.
I sighed.
Although I internalized all my bitching and moaning, I had to give Rhett and Kitty a little credit. While neither had made much of a personal contribution to my upbringing, they had given me a roof over my head and food in my belly. Not to mention the best education money could buy. Granted, for Knox that had consisted of expensive private schools and an Ivy League college. For me, since Kitty insisted I remained under her thumb at all times, I’d had the luxury of private home tutors.
After ten minutes, I realized relaxing was going to be impossible, so I opted to put my restless energy to good use with a swim. The water was silky and warm against my skin, and as I sank in chest deep, I had a brief curiosity about what it would feel like to swim naked.
This wasn’t the first time I’d had a sensual thought like that. It seemed that, despite Kitty’s every effort to shelter me and keep me from experiencing life as others did, I was still morphing into a woman. More slowly, of course, because not only was I a virgin but I hadn’t known the pleasure of a man’s touch. Not even anything as innocuous as holding hands. Nor did I know a whole lot about the sexual experience in general, aside from my magazine education and the brief, veryunstimulating formal education I’d received in my teens.
Yes, I’d been taught how to put a condom on a banana.
Seriously humiliating.
That didn’t mean I was stunted. There was a charge somewhere deep inside me that had me interested in sex. Or, I guess, curious would be a better word. I’d noticed lately that I lingered a little bit when applying my nightly lotion, exploring some of those sensations inspired by my own fingers on my skin. And from time to time, the shower sprayer would offer a hint of a tingle here and there. By accident, of course. Anything else would be inappropriate. I was, after all, a regal southern lady and it was my duty to remain pure and untouched, saving myself for the man I would marry. Another of Kitty’s goals for me.
Add in the fact I had absolutely zero privacy. There were no locks on any of the doors in my wing of the house, and more than once, Kitty had sent someone—always a woman, thank God—in to monitor me while I bathed. I believed it was Kitty’s warped and twisted way of reminding me who was in charge.
As if there was ever any doubt.
I took a few minutes to enjoy the feel of the water before I began swimming laps from one end of the pool to the other.
Did I mention Kitty thought synchronized swimming would be a good lesson for me? Well, she had. When I was nine years old. Right up until Kitty realized synchronizedanythingrequired more than one person. And since she was completely against me socializing with others … well, you get the idea.
I was on my fifth lap when I caught the silhouette of someone standing at the edge of the pool. Fearing it was my stepmother, I slowed, knowing a shitstorm was about to rain down on me when the stepmonster caught a glimpse of what I was wearing. Heaven forbid I wore anything not hand-selected by Kitty, much less something she would deem slutty.
Steeling myself for the scolding, I reached the other side and grabbed the edge, tipped my head back before lifting my face out of the water and plastering a pleasant, albeit apologetic smile on my face. Rather than Kitty gearing up to blast me, my visitor was not someone I recognized, which was more of a shock than had it been my stepmother.
I shrieked, stumbling back as I wiped the water out of my eyes and took a second look. It was then I noticed the handsome man peering down at me was not a stranger. At least not in the technical sense.
“Knox?”
“Emily,” he acknowledged, muscular arms crossed over his wide chest, mirrored aviators shielding his eyes.
I stared as the sun formed a halo around his impressive form. His jean-clad legs were long, his biceps bulging beneath the sleeves of his charcoal-gray T-shirt, making him look formidable and just a little dangerous.
Perhaps it was the amount of time since he’d last graced us with his presence, but seeing him now was like a punch to the solar plexus, enough to knock the wind from my lungs as I took him in.
I got my feet beneath me, standing tall in the shallow water, cognizant of the fact I was wearing very little in front of my very attractive stepbrother.
His voice was just as I remembered, all deep and gruff, when he said, “Don’t you look … all grown up.”
That simple statement struck a chord deep within me. A chord that shouldn’t have been accessible by my stepbrother of all people. And my body’s reaction was inappropriate, to say the least, my nipples pebbling, my skin feeling two sizes too small.
Yeah, I figured it was safe to say I was definitelynotstunted. In fact, it was possible I was a littletoosexually charged, otherwise I would not have found myself turned on by Knox’s overwhelming masculinity. At thirty-two, he was the epitome of money and power, even when he was dressed down in jeans and a T-shirt. Both designer, of course, because Knox was nothing if not particular about what he wore.
“Come here and greet me properly.” It wasn’t a request but a command, something Knox specialized in.
Remembering I was a grown woman and not a skittish child, I turned and strolled to the stairs, taking them slowly as I emerged from the water. I was aware of the smooth sundeck beneath my feet, the breeze cool against my wet skin, and the water dripping down my back. I wasalsoaware of Knox’s eyes as they tracked me, the way my nipples pebbled tightly, and the gentle vibration just beneath my skin that seemed to have a direct correlation to the tightening in my belly.
