Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Sienna
It’s been two days since I landed on this beautiful island, and I already don't want to leave.
The sun blazes overhead like an obnoxious spotlight, turning the water into a shimmering sheet of liquid heat that presses against my skin. I’m standing in the smaller pool set up for water volleyball, surrounded by bridesmaids, groomsmen, and a few distant cousins who arrived earlier today.
My white bikini clings to me—the triangles tiny, the strings thin. Every jump, twist, or deep breath threatens to reveal more than it already does. I know it’s drawing eyes… especially one pair in particular.
Milo’s on the opposite side with Ethan, a handful of groomsmen, old college buddies, and some of Ethan’s cousins. We’re volleying the ball over the net while Milo pretends he’s not watching me.
He’s shirtless—obviously—with navy board shorts riding low on his hips, water beading along the ridges of his abs that I want to trace with my tongue.
His chest is broad, his shoulders strong and defined, and that thick trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband makes my mouth go dry every time I let myself look.
He’s staring. Not as obvious as the other guys who keep “accidentally” glancing as they adjust their sunglasses. No, Milo’s stares are quick, surgical. A flick to my chest, back to the ball, another stolen glance when he thinks I’m not looking, then back to the ball.
But I’m always paying attention.
He’s obsessed. He’s trying hard not to be—but he is. God help me, I fucking love it.
I love the way his throat works when he swallows hard and the way his fingers tighten around the ball like he’s physically stopping himself from reaching for something else.
Aria smacks the ball over the net, and Milo tries to catch it one-handed while still watching me. It bounces off his hand and hits the net. Water sluices down his chest in rivulets as he steps forward to retrieve it. I push through the water to meet him at the net.
“Nice… form,” he murmurs, eyes drifting down my body before meeting my gaze. “Really committing to the volleyball strategy.”
I shift my weight so the bikini top pulls even tighter. “My form is impeccable. And you’re drooling.”
“I’m not drooling.”
“You’re literally swallowing.” My gaze drops to his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob again, right on cue. “See? Told you.”
He lets out a rough breath through his nose, the sound almost a growl. “You’ve been taunting me since you stepped into this pool.”
“And you’ve been watching me since then.” I lean in a fraction, close enough that my breath ghosts across his collarbone. His chest expands slowly, like he forgot how to breathe.
His hand twitches toward the net, veins standing out along his forearm. Before he can respond, Ryan—one of their college buddies, already three drinks in and wearing ridiculous neon-orange trunks—splashes Milo’s head.
“Hey! Ball! Play or forfeit!” He calls, sending another splash toward Milo.
With eyes still locked on Milo, I grab the ball, jump, and spike it hard over the net. It smacks the water with a satisfying splash, spraying Ethan and two groomsmen.
Another point for the girls.
Aria whoops from my left and high-fives me so hard my palm stings. “That’s my sister! Take that, boys!”
The game keeps going—splashing, shouting, laughter, and the occasional creative curse when someone misses. I’m everywhere: jumping for blocks, diving for saves, and cheering way too loudly every time we score.
Every movement sends water cascading down my skin. Every leap strains the bikini top dangerously. Every time I lean forward to set the ball, I feel Milo’s gaze like a physical touch.
One long rally ends with me spiking straight at his face. He blocks it instinctively, arms raised, body braced. The ball ricochets back over the net, giving them the point.
I gasp, half-laughing. “Did you just block my hit?”
“I did.”
“With your face?”
“With my arms,” he corrects, but a smirk tugs at his mouth as water drips from his lashes.
I stare at him for a beat, then burst out laughing. After that, the rallies blur together. At one point, I “accidentally” lean into the net during a block, pressing my breasts against the mesh for half a second. Milo’s eyes darken instantly, even behind the sunglasses he shoved on.
“You’re staring again...” I sing-song, swiping wet hair from my face.
“I’m observing.”
“Same difference.” I lean in, lowering my voice so only he can hear. “They’re real, by the way. And they love being looked at.”
His throat works as he swallows hard. “Noted.”
I laugh and get back into position. Our team pulls ahead thanks to Aria’s killer serves and my aggressive net play. I dive for a save, body stretched, and pop the ball up before Claire finishes it with a top over the net.
Another point for the girls.
I surface, gasping and grinning, and find Milo staring, his jaw tight and pupils blown wide. I swim to the net, resting my forearms on it so my chest is perfectly framed.
“You okay over here?” I tilt my head with a smirk. “You look… tense.”
“I’m fine.” He grits out.
“You’re lying,” I snort, water dripping from my lashes. “Your shorts are doing a terrible job of hiding how not fine you are.”
His gaze drops guiltily, then snaps back up. “You’re playing dirty.”
“I’m playing to win,” I correct. “Right now, winning means watching you lose your mind, point by point.”
He exhales roughly. “You’re going to pay for this.”
I flutter my lashes. “Promise?”
Instead of answering, he turns and gets back into position. I grin triumphantly and do the same. When Ethan serves, I jump higher than before and spike the ball hard. It smacks the water right in front of Milo, who lunges and misses by inches.
Game over.
The girls erupt into screams, splashing and hugging. I launch myself at Aria, and we stumble backward into the water, a tangle of limbs and laughter. When we surface, Milo is wading slowly toward the net until he’s standing right in front of me.
“Good game,” he says quietly. “You seem like a girl who played volleyball in high school and had an advantage.”
“Maybe I did…” I say, my lips curving upward. “You almost had me.”
“Almost isn’t good enough.”
I hum softly. “You seem like a man who doesn’t like not getting what he wants.”
“Maybe I am…”
I tilt my head, water dripping down my face and collecting on my collarbone. “Want a rematch?”
His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers. “I want a lot of things.”
My pulse kicks hard. “Yeah? Name one.”
Before he can answer, Ethan calls from the side. “Milo, you coming? They’re serving fresh poke at the beachside restaurant.”
He nods once and pushes himself out of the pool, water rolling effortlessly down the muscles on his back. I watch him go, then hoist myself out of the pool too. Aria is already standing there with a towel, and I take it from her with a thanks.
But as I wrap it around my body, I can’t help glancing at Milo as he walks off with Ethan and the guys. He glances back over his shoulder, and our eyes lock for a beat longer than they should. There’s something heated and deliberate in that glance—a silent promise, or maybe a challenge.
Heat blooms low in my stomach. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to play it cool, but the truth settles in anyway.
I just know this man is about to become dangerous to me.