“You’re welcome to look,” he drawled, “given you find me decently attractive and all.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped. Then I cracked my fingers, just slightly.
He’d already turned, beginning to wade to the water. Though the view from the back was no less riveting.
“I don’t want to get my clothing wet,” he said. “You wouldn’t want me to catch a chill, would you?” He twisted back, and I slid my fingers shut again, rolling my eyes.
“Of course, I wouldn’t want you to catch a chill either,” he continued.
Fine.
My shoes were already off, so I unclasped my cloak. I wouldn’t have worn that in, anyway. It dropped to the sand, falling in a semicircle around me.
Raphael was now waist-deep in the water, the white foam obscuring what was below.
I fingered the steel buckle of my belt. “Be a gentleman,” I called. “Turn around.”
“Not sure I’ve ever been accused of that,” he said with a huff. But he complied.
I unfastened the belt and folded my trousers, setting them on my cloak. I toyed with the edges of my tunic. I’d forgone my chest wrappings, instead wearing a short chemise I’d gotten accustomed to with my day dresses. If I removed the tunic, I wouldn’t be naked. It would stay dry for me to change back into.
No, not naked.
But I’d be exposed.
Yet there was no one but Raphael to see. That thought was equal parts terrifying and thrilling.
I discarded the shirt on top of the trousers. The white fabric of the chemise was even flimsier than I’d thought, but there was no more hesitating.
I stepped into the water.
“That is cold,” I hissed.
“You’ll acclimate. Can I turn around now?” Raphael’s back was still to me, but I knew he was fighting a smile.
“Just a moment.” I stepped farther in, coming closer to Raphael. “Okay, you can turn around.”
The chemise was a bad idea. While the water was up to his hips, it was already past my waist. The small waves lapped at me, soaking me. The white fabric clung to my breasts, their outline firmly visible. My nipples had pebbled from the cold, and my attempt to sink lower in the water did me no favors.
Raphael looked at me and swallowed. Then his eyes snapped back to my face, and he offered me a hand.
I took it. Raphael began to lead us deeper into the water, his long, powerful legs kicking slightly. The heavily salted water helped buoy me, but I still glanced around nervously as we moved farther. I wouldn’t be able to stand here. Then he moved us farther still. I looked back at the shore, no longer certain it was such a good idea.
“We won’t go past there.” His body was halfway between me and the open ocean as he pointed to an outcropping of boulders in the water. They were maybe fifty, sixty feet away.
“What now?” I asked hesitantly.
“Now, you practice treading water.”
He led me through a series of motions, moving around to support me. First, he held both my hands while I kicked my legs, then he held one hand at a time while I learned the movements for the arm. Once satisfied, he let me go—despite my rapid, curse-filled protests.
Raphael’s teaching style involved more “do or die” than regulated practice, I’d learned.
“You’re doing it,” he said, a look of pride on his face.
I was. I had built it into a more complicated thing, but with the improved stamina and strength vampirism offered, it wasn’t so bad. Raphael stayed in front of me, barely an arm’s length away. He moved his arms only a little, mainly cycling with his legs. Water clung to every part of his exposed shoulders, his hair, his chin. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, brushing it back. His bicep flexed, and I followed its path as it dropped below the water again.
I couldn’t see under the water, but I was very, very aware of the fact he was naked. And the only thing between us was the scrap of fabric I’d clung to, like that might give any semblance of propriety. What a joke.
