A growl leaves my throat before I can stop it. “I said to wear a swimsuit.”
“I heard bikini,” she retorts.
For fuck’s sake.
She tilts her head slightly, watching me the way she does when she thinks she has the upper hand.
“How about,” she says slowly, “instead of swimming… we go upstairs. To your room?”
There’s a pause. It’s tempting. Every inch of me want to carry her into my bedroom and tie her up with that flimsy excuse of a bikini. I’d fuck her hard until she’s a writhing, crying mess. Until she understands that the attitude just isn’t ideal.
But that would mean letting her win. And that’s not going to happen.
“Nice try, Kitten. Get in the pool.”
As long as she climbs in here, I get to eat my cake and have it too. Plus, the longer she stands on that edge, the more the rage beneath my skin bubbles. Especially when I think about the fact that any of my men could see her like that.
Her expression shifts, just slightly.
“Matteo—”
“Don’t be a coward, Lindsay. The pool isn’t even that deep.”
I swim over to the edge, rising to my feet in the water. It barely comes up to my chest. There’s a beat as she watches me.
“I hate this.”
She mutters something else under her breath I don’t catch as she steps closer to the edge. The water laps softly around me as I wait. She hesitates for a second before slowly stepping in, careful.
The moment the water reaches her legs, she tenses. I’m at her side immediately.
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” she bites out, shivering slightly as she stands in the water, neck deep.
“You’re too tense. Just breathe,” I say softly.
She exhales sharply, clearly fighting the instinct to bolt. My hand settles at her waist, firm and steady.
“I’ve got you, princess.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. “Why do you care if I learn how to swim or not, Matteo?”
“Because I want to help you conquer all your fears, beautiful,” I answer. “But to do that, I’m going to need you to trust me.”
She lets out a soft breath before nodding. I feel her slowly start to loosen in my hold, the tension in her body releasing.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“Good girl,” I murmur. “Now I need you to lean back.”
Her body resists immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Lindsay,” I say on a sigh. “Just trust me. I’m right here. I promise.”
The word “trust” hangs between us. She swallows. Then, slowly, reluctantly, she leans backward.
Her hands come up instinctively, gripping my shoulders as her body shifts, the water lifting her slightly.
