They continue walking ahead of us while I fall into step beside Milo. I lift my left hand dramatically, wiggling my fingers,and turn toward him. Nudging his shoulder with mine, I flash him a cheeky grin.
“So… I’m going to be the future Mrs. Reyes soon,” I say, wiggling my brows. “How does that make you feel, hubby-to-be?”
Milo doesn’t miss a beat. “Petrified.”
I let out a bright laugh, clutching my chest like he’s wounded me. “Wow. Straight to the heart. You could’ve at least pretended to be excited.”
“Oh, I’m excited,” he deadpans, though the corner of his mouth twitches. “Excited to see how fast this whole thing crashes and burns.”
“Oh, cheer up, you big grump,” I grin, bumping him again. “I’d make a perfect fake wife. I mean, I can’t cook to save my life—unless you count ordering takeout as a culinary skill. But I’mexcellentat spending money. And since you’re not exactly hurting for cash, I figure I’ll do a stellar job of making sure it doesn’t just sit there collecting dust.”
He snorts, glancing sideways at me with amusement flickering in his eyes. “Should I just give you my card now and get it over with?”
My eyes light up. “Would you?”
Milo shrugs, the picture of casual indifference, but I can tell he’s fighting a smile. “Depends. How fast can you drain my accounts?”
“I’m offended you even have to ask. Because honestly, Milo,” I continue, my voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve been eyeing these shoes formonths. If you slip me that card, I might accidentally buy them in every single color. And then I’d need the matching bags. And maybe a few dresses to go with them. You know… for balance.”
He stops and turns to face me fully now, one brow raised. “Which shoes?”
I blink. “Are you a secret fashionista?”
“No,” he replies, his lips curving. “But I know my brands.”
I look at him with a wicked grin as my eyes shift between him and the sparkling pool behind him. He eyes me suspiciously before his face morphs into shock when I place my hands onto his shoulders and shove him hard.
He looks comically shocked for half a second before his hand snaps out, wrapping around my wrist before pulling me in with him. We crash into the water together, and the coldness of it against my flushed skin steals my breath.
When we both surface, laughter bursts out of me. Milo’s hair is slicked back, water dripping from his lashes. The way he’s looking at me—dark, intense, and openly hungry—makes my stomach flip.
“Race you,” I challenge, still catching my breath. “Fastest lap wins a massage anytime they want.”
His eyebrow lifts. “You’re on.”
We push off the wall at the same time. I slide through the water, but Milo is right behind me, powerful and relentless. I touch the far wall first by a fraction of a second and surge up with a triumphant gasp.
“Ha! Victory!” I laugh, wiping water from my eyes. “I cannot wait for that massage.”
He surfaces right beside me, so close our legs tangle under the water. Before I can gloat any further, his hands find my waist and pull me in. Our bodies press together, slick and weightless in the water. The coldness of the water does nothing to hide how warm he feels against me.
My breath catches. His chest brushes mine with every inhale. Our faces are inches apart, water dripping from his lips. The rest of the world fades—the splashes, the laughter, the distant music—until there’s only him, the heat in his eyes, and the undeniable hardness I can feel pressing against my thigh.
“Last night… after the hot tub,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I took a cold shower.”
His fingers flex on my waist. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I swallow, heart hammering. “And I used my vibrator thinking about you. About what you’d do to me. Imagining your hands instead of the toy… picturing you inside me, fucking me against the shower wall.”
Milo’s breath stutters. His grip tightens, pulling me even closer until I’m nearly straddling his thigh underwater. His eyes are almost black now, pupils blown wide with lust.
“Sienna…” The way he says my name sends a fresh wave of heat straight between my thighs.
“Fun only, right?” I whisper, but my words tremble. “But that fantasy… it shattered me. I came so hard I had to hold on to the wall just to stay standing.”
His forehead drops to mine. Water clings to his lashes as his hands slide lower, gripping my hips possessively. For one breathless second, I think he’s going to kiss me right here—deep, desperate, no holding back.
“Tell me more,” he demands, his voice gravel-rough. “What did you imagine me doing to you?”
