Chapter 2

Emma's POV

But he pulled back.

His jaw clenched, fists balled at his sides.

"I don't mix business with pleasure," he said.

His voice was steady. Professional. But I could see the bulge in his shorts. Impossible to miss.

"Dominic—"

"That's it for today." He turned and headed straight for the bathroom.

A minute later, I heard the shower running. Cold water, judging by his sharp breaths.

I lay there on the massage table, oil dripping down my body, half-naked and throbbing with need.

Humiliation. Anger. Desperation.

I sat up slowly, wrapping myself in a towel. My hands were shaking—not from shame, but from this mix of fury and raw want.

When he came out, hair damp and face blank, I was dressed and waiting.

"Same time next week?" he asked, like nothing had happened.

"No," I said.

He paused, surprise flickering across his face.

"I want you three times a week. If we're doing this right, I need more sessions."

He studied me for a long moment. "I'll rearrange my schedule."

After he left, I locked the door and stood in the empty house, listening to my heartbeat.

My body was still humming. Still aching for him.

But now I had a plan.

No man can hold out forever. Especially not one whose body betrays him like his does.

He wants me. I've seen it, felt it, heard it in his breath.

He just needs a push.

I went upstairs and looked at myself in the mirror. My lips were swollen from biting them. Skin flushed. Eyes lit with a spark I hadn't felt in months.

Alive.

Thursday afternoon, I texted: [Pool session this Saturday? 10 AM?]

His reply came in under thirty seconds: [Works for me, Ms. Carter.]

Ms. Carter. So formal. So restrained.

I smiled at my phone. Not for long.

Saturday morning, I woke up with my heart already racing. I'd barely slept, running scenarios through my head over and over. I picked out my swimsuit carefully—a black one-piece that looked modest from the front, but the high-cut legs left nothing to the imagination from behind.

When the doorbell rang at 10 sharp, I took a deep breath and opened it.

He stood there in basketball shorts and a tank top, gym bag slung over his shoulder. But when his eyes landed on my suit, his jaw tightened.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yeah." His voice was rougher than usual.

When we got to the pool deck, he yanked off his tank.

I forgot how to breathe.

I'd felt his body during workouts, but seeing it in broad daylight was something else. His chest was all sculpted muscle, abs a perfect six-pack narrowing into that V-line that disappeared into his waistband. Broad shoulders, arms ripped. When he shucked his shorts, revealing tight black swim trunks, I had to look away before I did something stupid.

"Water workouts build core strength without stressing the joints," he said, all business. But I caught the slight strain in his voice.

He jumped in first. I watched the water slide off him as he surfaced, droplets catching the sun on his skin.

I followed, the cool water shocking my heated skin.

"Let's start with kicks," he said, moving behind me. "Grab the edge."

I gripped the tile, and his hands went to my waist, adjusting me. His touch was pro, firm. But as I started kicking, my body drifted back toward him naturally.

"Good," he said, his warm breath brushing my wet shoulder. "Keep your core tight."

His hands stayed on my waist, guiding. Every kick, my ass brushed against him. I felt him tense.

"Now floating drills," he said, shifting to my side. "Lean back. I'll support you."

I let myself fall back. His arm slid under my shoulders, the other hand on my lower back. No—lower than that. His palm was right below my ass, fingers splayed across my upper thigh.

"Relax," he murmured. "Trust me."

I did. I let my body go limp, floating in his hold. The water lapped around us, setting a rhythm. His face was close, water beading on his lashes. I could see his chest rising faster.

"I need to adjust your position," he said.

His hands moved to my hips. Then one slid down my thigh, lifting my leg gently. The motion pulled me closer in the water until we were face-to-face, my body pressed against his.

I felt it. Hard and unmistakable against my stomach.

Our eyes locked.

This time, he didn't pull away.

"Emma," he said, my name rough on his tongue.

"Yeah?"

"We should—" He broke off, jaw working. "We should take a break."

He backed off, swimming for the steps. I watched him climb out, water streaming down his body, trunks clinging to every line. He grabbed a towel but didn't bother drying off. Just stood there, chest heaving, staring at the horizon.

I climbed out slowly, deliberately. As I walked past him to the loungers, I felt his eyes follow.

"Want a drink?" I asked, popping open the poolside bar fridge. "I've got champagne."

"I don't usually drink on the job—"

"This isn't a session anymore," I cut in, pulling out the bottle. "Just two people by the pool on a Saturday."

He went quiet for a beat. Then: "Alright."

I poured two glasses and handed him one. We settled into adjacent loungers, the afternoon sun baking our wet skin.

"How long have you been single?" I asked, taking a sip.

He raised an eyebrow. "Straight to the point."

"I'm done playing games."

He chuckled, a real one. "Three years."

"Your choice?"

"Not at first." He looked at me over his glass. "I've been waiting for the right one."

My heart skipped. "And have you found her?"

He held my gaze. "I think so."

The air between us shifted. Thickened. My hand moved on its own, reaching out to touch his thigh. His muscle jumped under my palm.

He didn't pull away.

"Dominic," I whispered.

"Emma, if we do this—"

I kissed him. Cut off whatever sensible thing he was about to say. I just leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

For a second, he froze. Then he groaned and kissed me back. Hard. Hungry. His hand tangled in my wet hair, pulling me closer. The other gripped my waist, and suddenly I was in his lap, straddling him.

His tongue swept into my mouth, and I made a sound I'd never heard from myself. His hands were everywhere—my back, my ass, my thighs. He stood, lifting me like I weighed nothing, and carried me toward the pool house.

We barely made it inside before he had me against the wall. His mouth moved to my neck, biting and sucking, and I arched into him.

"I want this," he growled against my skin. "God, Emma, I've wanted this since day one."

"Then take it," I gasped.

He did.