11. Chapter 10 #2
He groans into the morning air, standing beside me in the pool. "Well, fuck. This is worse than I thought."
He stares at me like I just told him I've never seen the ocean.
"Darcy. You didn't know how to swim until twenty minutes ago. You've probably never eaten a street taco. And now you're telling me you've never had a real first date?" He presses a wet hand to his chest. "What did they do to you in high society world?"
"They gave me a world-class education and impeccable table manners."
"Yeah, and zero life skills." He shakes his head, jaw set with ridiculous determination. "Alright. That's it. I'm giving you the best damn first date that's ever existed. Consider it community service."
"That's absolutely not happening," I reply flatly.
“Trust me, Madden. You need one. Stat.” He straightens, glancing toward the sky. “Good thing I’ve got it covered. I'll take you this weekend. After the game on Saturday.”
“You’re scheduling me romantically now?”
“Yup. Welcome to emergency romance, Darce.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “That's a lot of confidence for a man wearing rubber ducks on his ass.”
Beck's mouth drops open. “Oh, you're gonna regret that.”
Before I can escape, his hands catch my waist and he lifts me effortlessly, spinning me through the warm water until I squeal and grab his shoulders.
God help me.
Because if this is emergency romance, I am in serious trouble.
The water explodes around me as Beck spins, and I'm laughing.
Actually laughing.
Beck floats closer, his hair, already wet, clings to his forehead, somehow managing to look both messy and devastatingly perfect.
I can feel my cheeks heat at the sight of this sexy man, but I commit. My fingers break the surface as I scoop up a splash so big it’s basically a tidal wave.
The water slams into his face, and for one perfect moment, I feel victorious.
This is it. My win.
Then Beck drags a hand down his face like a human windshield wiper, flicking water away from his eyes. He throws in that stupid hair flip like he's starring in Baywatch, before he swims closer with the predatory grace of a shark.
"You know," he says, inching closer through the water as I try to retreat. "You really shouldn’t start a water fight when you can’t swim."
I tread water, gritting my teeth. "Oh really?"
He launches himself at me, and my body collides with his chest, slick and warm and impossibly solid.
The laugh dies in my throat. Everything dies in my throat.
Because Beck Morrison is holding me against his bare chest, and his blue eyes are locked on mine, and the water laps gently between us like the whole world just decided to hold its breath.
His arms tighten around me, keeping me afloat without effort, and I realize I've stopped kicking entirely.
I'm just... letting him hold me. My hands are flat against his chest, fingers splayed over warm, wet skin, and I can feel his heartbeat under my palm.
It's faster than it should be as we circler each other in the water, neither of us saying a word.
That's the part that gets me. Beck Morrison, the man who has never once in his life let a silence exist without filling it with a joke or some ridiculous commentary, is quiet.
He's just looking at me with those blue eyes so bright they make the pool look gray by comparison.
And I can't look away.
Oh God.
Something is happening to me. Something I don't have an explanation for. Something I can't organize into columns or quantify with a quick stat.
It's just this feeling inside my chest. Warm and terrifying and completely out of my control. The thing is… I've dated before. I've been held before. I've even looked into a man's eyes while we 'made love' together.
But none of those things made me feel like this.
"Thank you," I manage, my voice coming out softer than intended. "For teaching a proper lady how to swim today."
His hands settle low on my waist beneath the water as we move towards the glass edge again, Beck slowly crowding me with a small grin on his face.
"You know, Darce," he says, voice deep and seductive, "I can teach a proper lady to do a lot of things they've never done before."
My breath catches, but I refuse to let him see it.
"Oh really?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "That's very vague, Beck. I'm an analyst. I might need specifics."
"Oh, you want specifics?"
"I want data." I press my palms flatter against his chest, which is a mistake, because now I can feel exactly how hard his heart is pounding and it matches mine beat for beat.
"What kind of things are we talking about?
Parallel parking? Tax preparation? The proper way to fold a fitted sheet, because honestly, nobody knows how to do that. "
Beck's laugh rumbles through his chest and straight into my fingertips.
"Sure, Darce. Fitted sheets. That's exactly what I meant." He tilts his head, water dripping from the ends of his hair. "I'm talking about things that would make a proper lady very, very improper."
The pool water suddenly feels about forty degrees warmer.
"Improper," I echo, and I don't know why my voice sounds like that.
"Mmhm. Things that would mess up that perfect hair of yours. Ruin that perfect composure. Those sexy as hell tits you've been tormenting me with since you got in this damn pool."
I swallow as his fingers slowly crawl up my body, hitting the divide on the swimsuit where fabric dips into the bare skin on my cleavage.
"You like my swimsuit then?"
His grin turns wicked. "I fucking love it."
"Then why don't you show me how to be improper?" I lean in and press my lips to his, sucking on his bottom lip slightly as I release his mouth.
Beck's eyes darken, and before I know it, his mouth crashes against mine. The glass infinity edge is cool against my back, but everything else is fire.
"Fuck, I missed this mouth." Beck's body presses into mine. His chest against my breasts, his hips against my hips, his thighs bracketing mine beneath the surface. "Been thinking about you ever since that kitchen."
He grinds forward, and I feel his cock, hard and long and so fucking good beneath the water. I latch onto his mouth, our teeth colliding as he presses himself against my stomach through the thin barrier of his ridiculous swim trunks.
I throw my arms around his neck as I turn liquid against him, my legs wrapping around his waist beneath the water, pulling him closer.
This is wrong. This is bad.
This is possibly the stupidest thing I've ever let myself do in my life.
But I'm not fucking stopping.
"Oh, Beck," I breathe, grinding against him.
His hands move beneath the water, sliding up my sides. One cups my breast through my swimsuit, his thumb dragging over my nipple before his fingers hook beneath the edge of the fabric and tug it aside, his palm closing around my bare breast.
“Fuck,” he breathes, staring down between us through the water. His thumb rolls slowly over my nipple, watching it tighten beneath his touch. “You have any idea how long I've wanted to get my hands on these?”
I moan as the other hand travels higher, higher, until his palm rests against the front of my neck. His thumb finds my pulse, pressing against it, and I stop thinking entirely.
My pussy floods. I mean floods.
"You okay?" Beck murmurs against my lips, his hand still steady on my neck.
I nod. I can't speak. If I speak, I'll say something that makes this real, and right now I want to live in the version where this is just happening and I don't have to justify it.
His free hand slides beneath the water again, slipping under the leg of my swimsuit. His fingers grip my ass. It's hard. It's possessive, squeezing until I moan against his mouth.
But he doesn't stop there. His hand moves around my hip, slipping farther beneath the swimsuit until his fingers find me already wet and aching for him.
Beck goes still as his eyes lift to mine, and the look on his face nearly finishes me before his fingers even move.
“Jesus Christ, Darce.” His thumb strokes over my clit slowly, and my entire body jerks against his. “This all for me?”
"Yes." I bite down on a moan, moving my hips against his fingers.
The sound is embarrassing. Desperate. But I don't care.
I want him. I fucking want him.
The thought hits me like a truck, and my hand moves before my brain catches up. I reach down between us, beneath the water, and grab his cock through his swim trunks.
My eyes blow wide.
Oh my god.
Beck Morrison's cock is a weapon. It's huge, thick and long and straining against the fabric, and my fingers barely close around it as I start to stroke him.
"Fuck, that feels so good." Beck dips his head against mine, groaning into the morning air. "Keep doing that, baby. So good."
Slowly, Beck's grip on my neck tightens.
I fucking lose it.
Is he choking me? No. It's not choking.
But it is possessive.
It's firm and rough and his thumb is pressed right against my pulse point, and I can feel my heartbeat hammering against his hand.
It's the single most intoxicating thing anyone has ever done to me. I feel claimed. Owned in a way that has nothing to do with the Madden name or my flawless composure, or anything any other man has ever wanted me for before.
I grab his hand with my free one, guiding him to squeeze tighter around my neck. He chuckles against my neck, kissing the opposite side to where he's holding me.
"Ohhh… Beck." My hips start to move. Grinding against him. Moaning into his mouth as he moves to slide his tongue over mine.
"Fuck, Darce," Beck groans against my lips, his hips sliding into my grip. "You feel that? That's what you do to me. Been hard since you walked through that gate."
"Beck—"
His fingers slide over my clit, circling me again and my hips buck helplessly into his hand.
“Fuck, I love watching you. So goddamn sexy.” His hand tightens on my neck as his other keeps working between my thighs. "You're so fucking perfect. Such a good girl. Just like that."
Good girl.
OH. MY. GOD.
I stroke him faster, dipping my fingers beneath the waistband of his trunks, finally touching hot, smooth skin.
"BISCUIT?! Biscuit, where the hell are you?"