Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Milo
Ethan has claimed the prime spot on the pool deck—sprawled on his back, one hand cradling a sweating, vibrant orange cocktail and the other cradling his phone as he narrates old photos to anyone within earshot, his voice slurred just enough to prove the all-inclusive bar is doing its job.
“Remember this? Junior year… spring break?” he angles his phone toward us. “Jax tried to crowd-surf the bonfire. Idiot nearly set his hair on fire.”
Jax, two lounges over, doesn’t look up from his screen. “Still have the scar. Worth it, though.”
“Ha!” Ethan snorts, pulling up another photo. “Remember when Ryan tried to—”
Ryan groans from his lounger, arms draped over his face to block out the sun. “Can we not relive my trauma? I lost spectacularly today. Let me grieve in peace. I never lose at volleyball. Ever.”
Laughter ripples through the group, but I’m not part of it. I lean against the cabana post, beer bottle sweating in my hand. I’ve barely touched the drink because my attention has been elsewhere—has been since the moment Sienna sat beside me on that plane.
She’s claimed the lounger farthest from the group, partially tucked into the shade of an umbrella. She lies on her stomach, a paperback propped open on a folded towel, still wearing that white bikini that should be illegal.
A sheer white cover-up drapes loosely over her shoulders. The damp fabric is translucent where it touches her skin, outlining the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, and the soft swell of her breasts as they press against her arms.
Her hair is drying in chaotic waves, spilling across her sun-kissed shoulders. She’s propped on her elbows, chin resting in one palm, legs bent at the knees, bare feet kicking absently like she’s keeping in time to music only she can hear.
She looks peaceful.
It might be the most dangerous thing she’s done all day.
In the pool earlier, she was fire—sharp spikes, taunting grins, body glistening. Out here, she’s… quieter. Just existing. Reading. Breathing.
She reads with the same focus she brings to everything else. Her head tilted slightly, lips parted just enough to show the edge of her teeth when she smiles at a page. Every few minutes, she bites her lower lip or lets out a tiny huff of amusement that carries across the deck.
I don’t know what drug Sienna is producing, but I’m standing here, watching her like an idiot, because looking away feels impossible.
Ethan’s foot nudges my ankle. “You’re doing it again, Reyes.”
I blink and drag my gaze to him. “Doing what?”
“Staring like she’s about to reveal the meaning of life in chapter twelve.”
I grunt and take a sip of beer that tastes bitter. “I’m not staring.”
“You literally are,” Jax supplies without lifting his head. “You’ve been at her since she cracked the book open. She’s got you in a chokehold, Reyes.”
“I’m not in a chokehold.”
Ryan lifts his beer bottle by the neck. “To Milo Reyes—may he survive the next eleven days without dropping to one knee mid-sentence.”
Bottles clink, and laughter erupts.
I scowl, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling heat crawl up my skin that has nothing to do with the sun. I’m thirty-three, and I’ve never thought about marriage, a wife, or kids. But with her… no. It’s the effect she has. That’s all.”
“You’re all assholes,” I mutter.
“Accurate,” Ethan says cheerfully. “But also concerned friends. You good, man?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
He follows my gaze back to her. “She’s reading.”
“I know.”
“And you’re watching her read.”
I ignore him because I don’t have a response.
Sienna turns a page, her fingers lingering on the paper. She bites her lip again and lets out a quiet “ha!” that floats on the breeze. She tucks a damp curl behind her ear, and the small movement shifts the cover-up, baring the smooth curve of her side.
My throat tightens.
Fuck.
She’s not even trying right now. No taunting smirks. No deliberate leans. She’s just being unapologetically her, and it hurts to look at her, but it hurts more to look away.
She doesn’t shrink. Doesn’t apologize for the space she takes. She’s all sharp edges and unfiltered joy, and I’m standing here wondering how the hell I got so lucky—or cursed—to be anywhere near her orbit.
I’d heard the stories about her over the years—plenty of them.
Ethan and Aria both warned me she was a walking whirlwind.
Late-night adventures included Sienna dragging them into last-minute road trips with no destination, turning quiet dinners into karaoke disasters, or somehow convincing an entire bar to take shots off her stomach on a random Tuesday.
Chaos in human form, they’d called her. Beautiful, brilliant, and completely unpredictable. Normally, that would’ve been enough to keep me at a distance. We’re night and day—her vibrant, impulsive energy versus my need for order and quiet structure.
I would’ve written her off as too much, too risky, someone who’d upend my carefully built life without a second thought.
But now that I’ve met her… I can’t look away. She’s captivating in a way the stories never prepared me for. Every wild, chaotic piece of her pulls me closer rather than pushing me back. Every burst of that bright light feels like color flooding a grayscale world I didn’t realize I’d been living in.
Ethan leans in, his voice low. “Seriously, Reyes. You okay?”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
“You look like you’re about to combust.”
“Maybe I am.”
He studies me for a beat. “She’s different, huh?”
Different is too… tame.
She’s a wildfire in a world full of controlled burns.
Before I can answer, she glances up from the page, and our eyes lock across the deck. Everything else fades—the music, the guys’ voices, the splashing from the pool. It’s just her and those honey-brown eyes holding mine as if she’s peeling back every layer I’ve spent years reinforcing.
My chest squeezes so hard I forget how to breathe.
She holds the look for a long moment, then her lips curve. Not the taunting grin from the pool but smaller, softer… almost shy.
My heart slams against my ribs.
She drops her gaze back to the book but doesn’t look away. Instead, she tucks her legs under her and angles her body slightly toward me, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing and wants me to keep looking.
Joke’s on her because I wasn’t planning to look away anytime soon anyway.
Ethan clears his throat. “You’re toast, Reyes. She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger.”
I don’t answer. I just watch her settle back into the page, the late sun catching the tips of her lashes, turning them gold. I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, and I watch her smile at whatever she just read.
The guys keep teasing each other—more college stories, more bullshit, more laughter. My beer has gone warm by this point, so I set it on the ledge without looking.
Sienna turns another page. Pauses. Then looks up again. This time, she doesn’t hold the stare. She arches one dark brow and lets her eyes trail down my body and back up. Lingering. Appreciating. Then she bites her lip and returns to her book as if nothing happened.
But something did.
Something electric just snapped between us, and we both felt it.
I push off the post before I can talk myself out of it, and the guys notice immediately.
“Oh shit!” Ethan gasps. “He’s moving.”
“Abort mission!” Jax bellows. “He’s going in!”
“Pray for him!” Ryan snickers.
I ignore them and cross the deck, acting like I’m stretching my legs… but each step feels heavier than the last. When I reach Sienna’s lounger, I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something stupid, like reach out to see if her skin is as soft as it looks.
She doesn’t look up right away, but she reads a few more lines before marking the page with her finger. “You lost, Mr. Wet-Pants-Wonder?”
“Catastrophically.”
“You’ve been watching me read for twenty minutes.”
“Felt longer.”
“Creep.”
“Guilty.”
She laughs softly, and the sound settles deep in my chest. “You’re not subtle, you know that?”
I let my gaze drop to the way the fabric of her cover-up clings to her damp skin, then back to her face. She shifts slightly, enough to make the lounger creak and for her knee to brush my thigh. The contact feels electric, like a thousand volts surging through me.
“You’re still staring.” She murmurs.
“You’re still letting me.”
She doesn’t deny it but instead reaches out and trails one pink manicured nail down the center of my chest. My abs jump under the light touch before I can stop them.
“You’re tense again.” She observes.
“You have that effect on me.”
Her finger hovers just above my navel, pressing lightly. I gently catch her wrist and hold it there, feeling her pulse hammer against my thumb. She doesn’t pull away but instead curls her fingers, her nails grazing my skin.
“You’re not what I was expecting.” She admits, voice soft and surprised, almost a whisper.
My pulse kicks against my ribs. “Good or bad?”
“Terrifying.” She smiles.
Something raw and hungry rips through my chest, cracking it open wider, letting in heat, chaos, and the terrifying urge to pull her closer. My fingers tighten around her wrist for half a second before I force myself to let go, the loss of contact burning more than it should.
I clear my throat, trying to steady the storm inside me, but my voice still comes out rougher than I intended. “And you’re exactly what I was expecting.”
She smiles wide enough that small dimples appear in her cheeks. “Read with me?”
“What?”
“Sit and read with me.” She pushes herself up and pats the space in front of her. “Or at least pretend. The guys are watching.”
I glance over, and sure enough, the idiots are staring. When they catch my glare, they scatter, suddenly very interested in their phones, towels, and anything that isn’t us.
I groan under my breath and drag the empty lounger beside Sienna until it’s flush against hers before settling down onto it, our arms nearly brushing.
She hands me the open paperback, and I look at it, then at her. “You want me to read… romance?”
“It’s not just romance.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s good. Trust me. Read with me, Milo. I have a feeling your voice would be perfect for it.”
As I take the book, our fingers brush lightly, causing me to inhale deeply as Sienna settles onto her stomach, chin in hand, body angled toward me.
Then I start reading, so low only she can hear. My voice comes out rough with want, nerves, and something bigger. She listens intently, eyes drifting over my face like she’s memorizing every detail.
She smiles at the good lines, bites her lip at the tension, and giggles softly every few pages. My heart clenches each time.
The sun sinks lower toward the horizon, and one by one, the pool deck begins to empty. But Sienna and I stay right where we are, with me reading and her listening.
And somewhere between the pages and her soft laughter, I start to realize she’s the beginning of something I didn’t know I wanted.