She leaned back against the wall, her knees absurdly weakened as heat burnished her body. From the tips of her toes to the very top of her head she felt the driving urge to touch.
He slowed, then lifted his head to stare at her.
‘You’re not working.’ She wanted him to swim nearer.
He stayed low in the water. ‘I’m trying to keep my cool.’
‘Are you angry?’
‘Not angry, no.’
‘Didn’t you sleep well?’ she asked innocently.
Intent flashed in his eyes. ‘Come into the water with me.’
Anticipation slid over her skin—warm feather strokes that caused shivers. Because no doubt he meant that literally. But she slowly shook her head, because the truth was she didn’t think she could actually stand on her own two feet right now.
‘Ah...’ He swam to the edge of the pool nearest her. ‘If the mountain won’t go to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain.’
‘Are you calling me a mountain?’
‘A snow-capped, ice-cold, beautiful mountain. One that hides a volcano two hundred feet down. One with a very molten core.’
‘Oh, please.’ She rolled her eyes.
But that core was already melting, and he chose that moment to lever himself out of the pool onto the edge in a single swift movement. As she’d suspected, he was utterly, gloriously naked. What she hadn’t realised was that he was aroused. Hugely, undeniably aroused.
Kassie’s jaw dropped as she struggled to breathe. She couldn’t speak—couldn’t tear her gaze from the pulsing vision of complete masculinity. She’d known he was big, but she hadn’t factored in that he’d be as big...everywhere... Or that his muscles would be so honed, so deeply defined.
His hard erection jutted, straining high. She’d touched him there—kissed him there—last night. An intense need to do that again rocked her. Here. Now. The wave of sheer lust was so fierce she trembled like a flimsy blossom in a storm.
He stood unashamedly watching her reaction with heat and amusement in his eyes. ‘Does the sight of me scare you?’
‘I don’t think “scare” is the right word,’ she croaked.
Lazily he picked up a white towel from the folded stack on a nearby table. ‘What is the right word?’
‘Awe,’ she mumbled. ‘Shock and awe.’
She watched, leaning limply against the wall as he wrapped the towel around himself, hiding him from her view.
‘Spoilsport,’ she whispered.
He didn’t stop fastening the towel, but he stepped closer. ‘You slept okay?’
She nodded and swallowed. ‘And now we have the entire day before us.’
He cupped her cheek. ‘No, we don’t.’
At the touch of his fingers on her she felt that heat roll over her again. ‘Why not?’
He didn’t answer. He was too busy looking at her mouth. It was almost as if he wasn’t aware of anything else any more. Her lashes lowered lazily—her eyes wanting to focus only on him. He was so magnificent.
And then he kissed her. That fire deep within her fizzed, launching those exquisite sensations into every limb—weakening, warming... She was so willing. And he knew.
Suddenly his mouth and his hands were everywhere. He pushed aside the cups of her bikini top so he could nuzzle her breasts. The way he worshipped them made fierce pride blossom. Never had she liked her body the way she did today—now she revelled in it. And as he kissed her breasts one hand delved lower still, skimming beneath her bikini bottoms. She liked this too—arching her hips away from the wall to press into his teasing hand.
He sent her a look of satisfaction before claiming her mouth. She liked that even more. And as he plundered her mouth with his tongue, in teasing, deep licks, he parted her intimately, stroking her slick seam before slowly sliding a finger inside. She gasped, tensing, but he kept rubbing back and forth across her sensitive nub with his thumb and she shivered as that delicious, foreign feeling strained her control.
‘That’s it,’ he muttered in between those crushingly passionate kisses as she moaned and began to rock against him. ‘You’re so hot.’
He worked in and out, sliding faster and faster, deeper. Her hips bucked as she became accustomed to riding him. As she became enraptured. She was so hot, so spellbound by the sensations he stirred, she was almost rendered catatonic as he’d once teased her she would be.
Her eyes closed and she helplessly—brazenly—moaned every time he pressed closer, as the towel around him gently abraded the ultra-sensitive skin of her upper thighs. The pressure of his body was unbearably good. She wanted to slither to the floor and feel all of his weight above her, all of him within her. But it was too late. She was shuddering—screaming—as he shot her to the stars.
‘How many times are you going to make me lose control like this before you give me what I want?’ she groaned breathlessly, her eyes still closed.
‘Dozens,’ he admitted, pulling her so she rested against his broad chest. ‘Dozens and dozens.’ He gently rubbed circles on her back. ‘It’s something you should enjoy every day. You’re getting used to feeling that hot need. You’re not resisting the sensations any more—you’re embracing them. You’re less afraid.’
‘I’m not afraid at all.’ Not with him.
Her limbs tingled. That rush of pleasure had only made her more determined than ever.
‘Then you’re nearly ready.’
‘I’m ready now.’
‘Then the anticipation will make it even better.’ He stepped back.
She hadn’t realised that she could still feel frustration despite just having had the pleasure of orgasm. She was so close to experiencing it all and she wanted it now.
‘But—’
‘I have found a suitable event for you to accompany me to,’ he interrupted.
‘An event?’ she muttered, aghast. ‘Today?’
How could she possibly pull herself together enough to appear in public after that shattering experience?
Amusement warmed his expression. ‘A personal grooming assistant is arriving shortly. She’ll have a selection of outfits for you and she can style your hair and make-up. You’ll get the Cinderella treatment you missed out on.’
Personal grooming? Rebellion rose. She hadn’t meant it when she’d said she wanted a new wardrobe—she’d just wanted to disagree with him. And, from the teasing gleam in his eye now, he knew it.
‘Of course you could wear your hospital uniform, or those worn jeans you had on yesterday.’ He shrugged. ‘But the world will be judging. There’ll be an article in the press analysing every item you’re wearing with designer and price details attached.’
‘They won’t be interested in what I’m wearing. I’m only Damon’s half-sister.’
‘They’re interested in any woman within five feet of my vicinity,’ he said, displaying his innate supreme arrogance.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Because really they’re mostly interested in you?’
‘Truthfully? I think you’ll find there is a strong fascination with you.’
She frowned and shook her head, but he cupped her cheek, stilling her.
‘It’s human nature to admire uncommonly beautiful things, Kassie. We can’t help ourselves. You know you draw attention from both men and women, young and old alike. It doesn’t matter whether you’re wearing a sack or a G-string—they’re still going to stare.’
He thought she was uncommonly beautiful? A tiny spark glowed inside her—because from him that was nice. But only from him. Not from the rest of the world.
‘They’ll see me as a sex object,’ she muttered. ‘Because of my shape.’ They’d done that to her mother.
‘Everyone does that to you initially, don’t they?’ he muttered. ‘That’s why you work so hard to prove that there’s more to you. Even when you shoul
dn’t have to prove it. Even when they should just know.’
His astuteness surprised and pleased her—but then she realised he understood because he was the same.
‘You do that too,’ she said slowly. ‘You work hard to prove yourself as King. All the time.’
But when he was alone, unhindered by all the world watching him, there was another element visible to her. He had something caged within him that he wouldn’t let the rest of the world see.
‘I have far more to prove—for far more nefarious reasons than being good-looking.’ He waggled his brows at hers.
‘Ridiculously good-looking,’ she amended with a gurgling laugh as she realised that something of what he kept locked away in public was his sense of humour.
‘They see me as a sex object because of my birth—my title, money, power.’
‘They’d see you as a sex object without the title, money or power,’ she corrected him dryly. ‘It’s your face and your physique. Muscles cause brain meltdowns, you understand.’
‘Because we can’t help but admire beautiful things,’ he reiterated with a chuckle. ‘I ignore it. You can ignore it too.’
‘Yet you want me to dress up for them?’
‘I want you to be comfortable. That doesn’t have to mean a designer dress and layers of make-up if you don’t want it to. Do what you wish,’ he said dismissively.
For half a moment she felt like wearing something completely outrageous—just to shock him and the rest of the world.