He folds me into a bear-trap hug I pretend to resist but secretly crave. His nose finds the crook of my neck and stays. My body seems to think it belongs there.
“I want to know all of you, Mia. Everything that makes you who you are. Every piece you give me just makes me want more.”
So I kiss him. Not because I’m feeling romantic. But because if he keeps saying shit like that, I’ll start to believe it. And that would be worse than falling. It would mean I’ve landed.
“Can you take me to the pool now?”
“Have I ever denied you anything?”
I don’t even need to think about it. “No.”
“Then be a good girl and return the favor.”
He punctuates that with a playful slap on my ass, then vanishes to grab us towels, smug and perfectly naked and so unfair.
The hunger in his eyes while I dry off almost sends me diving back into the shower. A cold one this time.
Preston calls reception and orders fresh towels and robes for us. I head to my bag, and he watches me pull a swimsuit from it.
“What are you doing?” he asks, stopping me on my way back to the bathroom.
“Getting changed.”
“No, you’re not.” He steps in front of me, scowling.
“What do you mean?” I chuckle, confused.
“I didn’t bring any.”
“Preston, you knew there was a pool.”
“Your point?” He gives me a flat look, as if I’ve suggested swimming in jeans. “It’s just us.”
He closes the gap, fingers grazing the towel around my breasts until it falls to the floor. A second later, his follows.
“So really,” he murmurs, “why would you bring something that’d keep me from you?”
Because I don’t usually feel this safe with a man. Because I’ve worn that shaping suit so many times, it’s practically armor. But I don’t say any of that. I’ve given him too much already.
“Yeah, guess I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He tilts his head. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Hiding. Come on. Let’s see if the chlorine washes this bad habit off you.”
Damn you, Preston. Stop looking that deep.
We step out onto the rooftop. Trees border two sides of the balcony, thick enough to block any prying eyes. The other edges offer a postcard view of Central Park, no neighbors in sight. Preston struts ahead, bare and unapologetic.
And sure, his ass is distracting, but even paired with the skyline, it’s not enough to shove my self-consciousness off the balcony ledge. I’m still naked. Everything of his flexes. Everything ofmine jiggles.
Yeah, yeah. Comparison is the thief of joy. Or whatever that quote is.
My hand flails mid-air. Should I cover my tits? My stomach? Maybe shield my thighs? Everything’s on the move, and I’ve got nowhere to tuck any of it.
Preston turns, and I freeze, hands hovering. Thank God I didn’t commit to an area, or I’d be getting a lecture now. My arm drops to the side as he checks his watch.
