I turn around and peek back out into the hall, checking to make sure it’s empty. I didn’t bring a suit, but I can swim in my bra and underwear. Stripping off my leggings and tee-shirt, I carefully fold them up and set them onto the wooden bench before I open the door to the pool area. The smell of chlorine hits me immediately, and strangely, it is of some comfort. It’s a reminder that this water isn’t endless. It’s not pulling me under, threatening to drown me in its murky depths. This water has a floor and four walls, and I will be safe here as long as I manage my expectations.
I walk to the edge of the stairs and dip my toe inside, swirling it around to test the temperature. It’s moderately warm and inviting. At least, that’s my mantra as I force myself to descend the stairs and lower my body into the blue abyss.
For a few moments, I just sit there, managing my breath and trying to adjust to the feeling. It’s not that I don’t know how to swim. I spent every summer at the lake with my father when I was growing up, but those recollections have all been tainted by the last memory I have of the water. Drowning. Clawing. Dying. I didn’t think I’d ever get out, and I haven’t wanted to return since. But, like anything else, I refuse to allow those fears to stand in the way of my goal.
Slowly, I position my head forward and push my legs out, slicing my arm through the air and back into the water. It’s not at all smooth, but I repeat the motion again and again until it is. I swim lap after lap until I’m breathless, clinging to the edge, and truly unable to continue. My fingers have turned to prunes, and my eyes burn from the water, but I can be proud of myself for doing what I set out to do.
One step at a time. That’s how I’ll get there.
I edge myself toward the stairs and drag my body up to the deck, pausing to wring out my hair. It’s only at this point I realize I don’t have a towel, and when I glance toward the linen closet, I’m startled by a sound.
There isn’t time to process what I’m seeing. It just happens. One minute, I’m standing there in my wet underwear, and the next, I’m witnessing Alessio emerge from the sauna, completely naked.
My breath gets caught in my throat as he pauses, turning to look at me. At least, I think he is. I can’t be certain because my eyes are blazing a path down his body, right over the huge cock hanging between his thighs.
Holy shit.
Holy freaking shit.
I have to stop looking. That’s what I’m telling myself, but I can’t. It’s just … there. I haven’t seen a naked man up close like this, well, ever really. The one time I was even with a man, he only unzipped his jeans. It was nothing like this. He was nothing like Alessio, who is somehow even more beautiful than I imagined. He’s strong, with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and muscular thighs. On some level, I knew from what I could see beneath his suits, these qualities existed. Now, they are undeniable. His strength is unmatched in any man I’ve seen before. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to believe my imagination was overcompensating. It wasn’t. He’s here, and he’s real, and I’m still staring at his dick.
Oh my god.
My eyes shoot up, pausing momentarily on his chest when I notice a few round scars there. They appear to be bullet wounds, or at least, that would be my guess. I make a mental note of it and keep my gaze moving, horrified to see he’s staring at me too. When I glance down, it’s only then I realize my white bra and panties are displaying … well, everything. I slap my hands over my body, humiliated and ashamed, but it only gets worse. He can see all the scars littering my arms and torso now, and he will know everything I’ve told him is a lie.
“Natalia.” His voice snaps my attention back to his face. “Stay. We need to talk.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I swallow the painful lump in my throat as I begin to tremble. I’m cursing myself for being so careless when he walks to the linen closet and removes two towels. He wraps one around his waist, but not before I can see the length of his growing erection.
I’m confused and uncertain as he strides toward me and tosses me the towel. I use it immediately, swaddling my body away from his hawk-like gaze.
“You were supposed to meet me,” he says.
Shit. I glance around for a clock, but I don’t see one. Alessio checks his watch and reads the time.