Page 72 of Bred By the Sheikh

I smiled.

“An impressive piece of research.”

“I’m very thorough.”

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting beneath the shaded end of the pool terrace when Chrissy stepped outside.

She wore a dark teal one-piece swimsuit.

The suit was simple.

There was nothing simple about what it did to me.

It cupped her breasts, drew in at her waist, and left her thick thighs bare from the hip down.

She stopped just outside the door.

Her hands moved automatically toward her stomach.

Then they stopped.

Chrissy lowered them.

I stood.

Her gaze flicked over me.

I wore black swim shorts and nothing else.

“That seems unfair,” she said.

“What does?”

“You do.”

I smiled.

“That’s very specific.”

“I’m trying not to encourage you.”

“You’re failing.”

She walked toward me.

Her pace slowed when my attention moved over her body.

For one second she turned toward the pool instead.

I stepped closer.

“Chrissy, look at me.”

She looked back.

I touched one finger to the curve where her swimsuit met her hip.

“You’re doing that thing again.”