Page 74 of Bred By the Sheikh

Chrissy blinked at me.

“You’re stopping?”

“Yes, for now.”

She glanced toward my shorts.

“That seems uncomfortable.”

“It is.”

She smiled slowly.

“I could help with that.”

“Later.”

Her eyes darkened.

“You’re sure?”

“No.”

She laughed.

Then she walked past me toward the pool.

I followed.

We stayed there for almost an hour.

We swam.

Chrissy floated on her back until she drifted into me.

“You’re in my way.”

“You drifted into me.”

She splashed me, and I caught her around the waist.

She shrieked loud enough that someone inside the house probably heard.

When we finally went inside to change, I watched water run down her back and thought of her on my rug that morning with Goblin in her arms.

The thought had no business following me into a moment when Chrissy was wet and mostly naked.

It did anyway.

From the first day, I’d wanted Chrissy in my bed.

Now I could picture her in my company too—at my breakfast table arguing about food, on my terrace photographing flowers, on the floor naming stray animals.

I wanted her inside every room that had felt complete before she entered it.

Visiting those moments wasn’t enough.

I wanted them to become ordinary.