19. Sloane #2
I laugh nervously, wrapping my free arm around myself. "I'm already chilly out here."
"I turned the heat up earlier to ninety-eight. It's probably like a hot tub by now." His eyes darken with suggestion. "Much warmer than the air."
Oh. The idea of slipping into warm water suddenly seems much more appealing. My mouth goes dry.
"I'd have to go inside and get my suit."
Pope doesn't release my hand. Instead, he leans closer, his voice dropping to a rumble. "Why do you need a suit?"
My heart hammers against my ribs. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? What if someone sees us from the beach?”
“There are enough hedges and distance, no one will be able to tell. I’ll turn off the lights.”
He closes the distance between us. His lips brush mine, tender but insistent. When he pulls back, there's heat in his gaze that has nothing to do with the temperature.
"I promise I'll keep my hands to myself." His breath fans across my lips.
I swallow hard. "What if I don't want you to?"
The corner of his mouth lifts in a knowing smile. He leans in, capturing my lips again, deeper this time. My body responds instantly, melting toward him.
"Get in," he murmurs against my mouth. "I'll grab some towels from the pool house and cut the lights.”
He pulls me against him before letting go, and my body pulses with need. Every nerve ending is alive and electric. I watch him walk away, aching for him to return.
When he disappears into the small structure at the edge of the property, I approach the pool's edge. I dip my toe in. It's deliciously warm, steam rising from the surface. The night air prickles my skin as I glance around the secluded yard.
No one can see us here. I can hear the waves, but all I see is black night in front of me, beyond the pool and string lights.
I slip off my blouse, then my shorts, followed by my underwear.
The cool breeze against my naked skin sends a shiver down my spine as I ease into the water.
It envelops me like a warm embrace, soothing and exciting all at once.
The heat between my legs intensifies, my body already preparing for him.
The pool lights suddenly switch off, leaving only the soft glow from the Edison bulbs strung across the yard. The semi-darkness feels intimate and private.
Pope returns, setting towels on a nearby chair. He holds my gaze as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest.
His joggers and boxer briefs follow. My breath catches at the sight of him fully naked.
He slides into the water beside me. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
"So good." The words come out breathier than I intended. "Even better, now."
I can't resist any longer. I pull him to me, our naked bodies colliding underwater. The sensation of skin against skin sends shivers across every inch of me. His mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding as he backs me against the pool wall.
"You're making it very hard to keep my promise about my hands," he growls against my neck.
"I told you—" My voice catches as his fingers trace my collarbone. "I don't want you to keep that promise."
His hands explore my body beneath the water, making me gasp. "I want you inside me," I whisper.
"I don't have a condom."
"I'm on the pill."
That’s all he needs. His hands grip my waist, but I reach between us, guiding him to where I ache for him most. My thighs lock around him, pulling him in.
The first thrust steals my breath, not just because of his size, but because of the rush of sensation—water gliding over my skin, his thick length filling me in a way that feels impossibly deep with nothing to ground me but him.
A ragged cry slips out, swallowed by the night air. The pool makes me buoyant, weightless, like my body doesn’t know where to hold the pressure first—except where he’s inside me.
“Oh, fuck…” My head tips back as he drives in again, pushing me against the pool wall. Cool stone bites into my spine, sharp against the molten heat of him. The contrast makes me gasp harder.
“You’re incredible,” he groans against my throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make me shudder.
My fingers clutch at him, sliding against his slick skin, desperate for something solid as the water churns around us.
Each thrust ripples through me, through the pool, like waves announcing exactly what we’re doing to anyone who might look too closely.
That thought should mortify me. Instead, it makes my blood race, heat pooling low in my belly.
“Harder,” I whisper, though it comes out more like a plea. “Please.”
His hands grip my hips underwater, fingers digging into my flesh as he drives deeper.
"Look at me," Pope commands.
I open my eyes to find his gaze locked on mine, dark and unflinching. The connection hits harder than the thrusts themselves, like he’s inside my head as much as my body.
His hand slides from my hip, over the curve of my ass, lower—until his finger circles that forbidden place.
A jolt shoots through me, memory slamming back. That first night, in the hotel. The stranger I thought I’d never see again. The way I let him touch me there because it was reckless, filthy, safe in its own finality.
But this isn’t a stranger anymore. This is Pope. The man I live with, the man I see every day. And letting him touch me here again, God, it’s even bolder than before.
It’s dangerous and intimate in a way that terrifies me. Which turns me on even more.
“Is this okay?” His voice is low, strained, like it’s taking everything he has not to push further.
My breath shudders out. Shame and hunger twist in my chest, sharp as lightning.
“Yes,” I gasp. My body clenches around him, greedy, betraying me. “God, yes. I haven’t been able to put it out of my mind. You feel so good.”
Heat tears through me, stronger for the risk, for the knowledge that this isn’t some reckless one-night mistake. This is us now—complicated, combustible, inevitable.
When his finger presses gently against the sensitive bundle while he's still thrusting inside me, the dual sensation sends electricity shooting through my core. My body tightens around him as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.
"I'm close," I cry out, not caring who might hear.
"Show me how good it feels. Don’t hold back," he commands, increasing his pace while his finger applies more pressure.
The orgasm crashes through me like nothing I've ever experienced before. My vision blurs as waves of intense pleasure radiate outward from my center.
I'm vaguely aware of my own voice, crying out Pope's name as my body convulses around him.
Then, his entire body goes rigid. A low, guttural groan tears from his throat as he thrusts one last time, a hard shudder that leaves him gasping. His release pours deep inside me, a hot, liquid warmth mixing with the water around us.
He collapses against me, his chest heaving, his hand finally leaving my ass.
We drift in the silent intimacy of the pool, his arms wrapped around me, our breathing slowing in sync. The quiet is absolute, broken only by the soft lapping of the water.
My head rests on his shoulder as the last tremors of my orgasm fade. The peaceful weight of his arm around me is safety, something lulling me into the forbidden territory of falling for him, for this.
And yet, a flicker of memory sparks low in my body—his finger circling where no one else ever has. Bolder than the hotel, sharper now that I know him. It should have scared me. Instead, it made everything burn hotter.
It isn’t the pool or the rush of it. It’s how he touched me first, careful and almost hesitant, like testing the edges of something neither of us is supposed to want.
That’s what undoes me. Not the sex.
It’s the fact that he’s holding me like I matter.
I shove the thought away before it roots too deep.
It’s in that fragile quiet that I remember the text from Maris.
My stomach twists. I know I’m playing with fire, but I also know I can’t stop now.