“Jump in,” he orders again, his voice louder and gruffer.
Clenching my fists, I stand as still as a stone statue. I’m paralyzed with fear.
He scowls at me. “If you don’t do it, I’m going to hoist myself out of the pool and throw you in.”
I gulp. Though I suppose I could threaten him for harassment, he’s not giving me much choice. I chew on my bottom lip.
He breaks into a smug smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch every little bit of you.”
The thought of being held again in those magnificent arms motivates me. Okay, here goes. My heart racing, on the silent count of three, I squeeze my eyes shut and jump into the pool. The deep end, no less. Splash! As quickly as I sink in the tepid water so deep my toes skim the bottom, I torpedo to the surface. My head powers through the water and I find myself eye level with Brandon who’s holding me tightly. His firm hands cinch my waist. Face to face, we’re just a palm’s width apart. Anxiously, I grasp his broad shoulders for extra support and security. Or should I say irresistibly?
He smirks. “See, that wasn’t too bad.”
His warm breath heats my moist cheeks. “Okay, are we done now?” Truthfully, I don’t want to let go of him.
His smirk morphs into a fiendish grin. “We’ve only just begun. I’m giving you a swimming lesson. Something you’ve obviously never had.”
“Um, uh, my parents never got around to it,” I stammer. Brandon knows very little about my family or past. He’s never asked. Right now, the pathetic excuse will have to suffice. It’s not the time to tell him about my mother’s tragic death.
He cocks a brow. “Whatever. By the time we’re done today, you’re going to be able to swim a lap all on your own.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “I don’t think so.”
Without responding, he transports me to the shallow end of the pool where we can both stand up. He sets me down on my feet. While the water comes to my chest, it hits his six-foot-two frame just above his waist. His shimmering pecs and six-pack are in full view. They take my breath away.
Almost ironically he says, “Okay, the first thing you need to learn how to do is breathe. It’s simple.”
I watch as he dips his head into the water and blows out little bubbles. After thirty seconds or so, he lifts it out and shakes off some excess water. Somehow, I find that sexy as sin and a new set of hot tingles rushes to my core.
My turn. I imitate his actions, and with pursed lips, I blow out bubbles, trying to breathe normally. The soft percolating sound echoes through my ears. Finally, when I can no longer hold my breath and my lungs feel on the verge of bursting, my head pops out of the water. I inhale a deep breath of the warm morning air to replenish my lungs. My gaze meets Brandon’s.
His eyes are wide. “Wow! You have amazing breath control. How’d you learn to do that?”
One two-syllable word is on the tip of my tongue. Blowjobs. Sadly forgettable. I bite it back and shrug. “I suppose it’s just a special skill I have.”
He smirks again, his eyes narrowing seductively. “I bet you have lots of special skills I don’t know about. You’re lucky. I’m going to add swimming to your repertoire.”
Fucking in the water would be more like it. If we weren’t in a pool, he could feel how really wet I am. Here I go again! What’s wrong with me?
He licks his delectable lips, a small gesture that sends more distracting flutters to my gut…and beyond. “Okay, now relax.”
Before I can utter a word, he’s repositions me so I’m lying horizontally on my belly across the water in the palms of his large hands. I can feel them pressing dangerously close to my sex. The tingly sensation intensifies between my legs as his sultry voice sounds in my ears.
“Now, stretch your arms out in front of you, keeping them as close together as possible.”
I do as I’m told and await further instruction.
“Good. Now, put your head in the water, being sure to blow out bubbles like I taught you.”
In goes my head. But as soon as I begin blowing bubbles, I no longer feel his grip. I panic and flounder. I lose control of my breathing. Water infiltrates my nostrils, and coursing past my throat, quickly fills my lungs. My arms and legs flail in a tangle. I gasp for air, only to swallow a burning mouthful of the salty water. My fear of drowning swarms me.
And then I’m back in his arms. This time my legs wrapped around his hips like a pretzel, my arms folded tightly around his neck. My breathing is heavy. Close to hyperventilating.
He tenderly brushes away a few wet tendrils of hair that have fallen into my face. I hope he can’t tell I’m on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice watery.
He puts a finger to my lips to silence me. “Shh. It’s okay. I should have told you I was going to let you go.” His tone is compassionate, not gruff or judgmental. “Let’s try this again. Remember, just relax and blow bubbles. When I let go, the water will carry you. Ready?”
I nod because I know if I open my mouth a whimper will escape. The last thing I want to do is have a breakdown in front of my demanding boss. Wordlessly, I let him rearrange me back into that horizontal position. I inhale and then exhale, the deep breath composing me. With my arms extended straight out in front of me, I draw in another sharp breath and then immerse my head in the pool. His words cut through the water.
“Nice. Now steady yourself. I’m going to let go of you.”
This time, I’m prepared when his hands fly off my body. Blowing bubbles, I open my eyes. It’s almost surreal. I see the little popping bubbles trail ahead of me and strands of my chestnut hair fan out like tributaries. An amazing sensation overtakes me. A magnificent lightness of being. Weightlessness. Something I’ve never experienced before. Holy smoke! I’m floating!
In my state of otherworldliness, I lose track of time. I don’t know how long I’ve been under the water moving like a stealth submarine, when two hands grip my hips and lever me to a standing position. On a deep breath, I tilt my head back and gaze up at Brandon. The wide-eyed expression on his face is a mixture of angst and awe. His hands cup my shoulders.
“Jeez, Zoey. You gave me a scare. I’ve seriously never met anyone who can hold their breath as long as you can.”
I smile sheepishly. “I did okay?”
Relaxing, he returns the smile. “You did great. An A+++.”
My smile widens while he tells me there’s one more thing to master before I can move on to an actual lap. Treading water. Walking my hands along the rim of the pool, I follow him as he leads the way back to the deep end.
“Hold on and watch what I’m doing.” While I grip the side of the pool, he moves five feet in front of me and into a vertical position, his head above the water. He explains to me it’s kind of like riding a bike. To keep pedaling my legs beneath the water and to simultaneously move my hands in a small sweeping motion. Without him asking, I dunk my head under the water to get a glimpse of his legs in motion. Flexing, they’re so long, gorgeous, and powerful. And his rippled stomach muscles that give way to a perfect pelvic V are so taut. And don’t get me started on that monumental bulge that’s straining against his Speedo. God, he’s hung!
“Get it?” he asks when I lift my head out of the water.
“Got it.” I play into his signature Kurt Kussler line.
“Good.” He winks. “Now kick off the side of the pool and float toward me.”
With ease and confidence, I do as bid, and in one swift, graceful move, I reach him. He grasps my hands once again. While he continues to tread the water, I shift my body so it’s perpendicular to the water like his. I start to bicycle my legs and to my surprise, I stay in a vertical position with my head above the water, though barely. My legs more than once touch his, our knees knocking. And more than once his hard length grazes my center. Deliberately? Once he sees I can stay afloat, he lets go of my hands, and I begin to paddle them. To my amazement, I rise higher above the surface of the water.