Out of Control(14)
The moment stretched out between them. Then he dropped a quick kiss on her lips, removed his hand, and pushed himself away from her. He rose to his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared down at her.
“I’m going for a swim,” he said, a vaguely rueful expression in his eyes. “Have some more coffee. Stay as long as you like.”
He strode away from her and out the glass doors. A minute later, she heard a splash.
This time when she peeked at her breasts, she could clearly see her traitorous nipples pressing against the thin Lycra.
Fuck.
So much for staying away from the boss.
…
The water wasn’t anywhere near cold enough to douse his erection. He swam a fast crawl back and forth until his body regained some semblance of control and the blood retreated from his dick back into his brain. And he could think again.
How the hell did such a tiny woman have such a profound effect on him?
And what the hell had just happened?
He’d had her, literally in the palm of his hand. And he’d backed off.
Was he turning all noble as well as protective?
Christ, he hoped not.
Chapter Five
The sun was rising out beyond the edge of the sea, a huge red ball coloring the sky orange like some exotic cocktail. Dani slid into the water. Still warm from the previous day, it felt like silk against her skin.
This was the fifth morning she’d been swimming and so far, she’d had the place entirely to herself. Each morning, she waited—her body strung taut—for Zach to show himself, to come on to her. So she could tell him, once and for all, in no uncertain terms, to get lost—she wasn’t interested. Then maybe she could relax and the nagging sense of anticipation would leave her.
Instead, Zach had been conspicuous in his absence. And at last, she was beginning to relax.
She dived under the water and swam the length of the pool along the bottom, coming up gasping at the far end. She was out of practice, but each day she pushed herself further, loving the stretch of her strengthening muscles.
She turned and did the slow, almost languid breast stroke advised by her physiotherapist. Back and forth, until she came up against the end of the pool to be faced—at nose level—by a pair of bare brown feet. The toes were long and golden, the toenails in better shape than hers. She grimaced then raised her eyes slowly up the length of his body. He was wearing a pair of cream drawstring trousers and nothing else. His belly was almost concave and ridged with muscle, his chest tanned and golden furred, the hair narrowing into a line that ran from the neat indentation of his navel to disappear where his trousers hung low on the jut of his hipbones.
Warmth stole slowly across her body, making the water feel cool by comparison, and she blinked, forcing herself to look higher. His hair was tousled, as though he had just risen from bed, and his sleepy eyes were smiling.
She turned abruptly and dived under the water, trying to cool her heated skin and think up a plan for a dignified retreat.
But she hesitated, because while falling in love and living happily ever after wasn’t on her agenda, she wanted what Zach was offering. Desperately.
Besides, she was one hundred percent certain that, whatever Zach offered, it wouldn’t include forever. This would be purely sex.
Hot, sweaty, wild sex.
And sex with Zach was something she hadn’t been able to drag her mind from since she’d first spotted him naked.
But he was still her employer. Ethically, he was out of bounds.
Also, she didn’t trust this man. He was toying with her. She wasn’t his type, wasn’t anywhere near it, so what were his motives?
When she surfaced, he was still standing there, and he reached to help her out. She stretched up and her hand was engulfed in his larger one, his palm hard and warm. He pulled her from the water with ease and set her on her feet in front of him.
She stared down at the ground but could feel his eyes wandering over her small form in its modest black swimsuit, lingering on the scars that wound around her left thigh.
“You weigh next to nothing,” he commented.
“I lost weight after the accident, but I’m putting it back on now. You might not believe it, but I actually eat like a horse.”
“So I’ve heard. Well, a pasta-and-ice-cream-eating horse anyway.”
“Gary and Simon again, I presume.”
“They do seem to like to talk about you.” He strolled around her, paused at her back. “You have a tattoo?”
“So?” She shrugged. “It was a dare from some of the guys.”
“Do you always do what people dare you?” His fingers traced the pattern on her shoulder and a prickle ran over her skin. The tattoo was of a paw print—she’d thought it was appropriate.