A large rectangular pool shimmered in front of the opulent glass-and-wood villa. Both looked about the same as they had earlier in the year when he’d paid a house call as a favor to his aunt, to diagnose Rafe St. Sebastian with a nasty case of flu. He’d gotten St. Sebastian back on his feet easily enough, despite a total lack of cooperation on the part of his ungrateful patient. The man had gone on to buy the hotel and get engaged to the manager—a woman his aunt had been trying to set him up with—so he figured at the very least St. Sebastian owed him a swim.
Tonight, underwater lights turned the pool into a clear, flawless sapphire, and strategically placed landscaping lights showed off the teak lounge chairs lined up along one side. White pillows decorated each tan cushion. His hostess walked over to the closest chair, placed her purse on the small wooden table beside it, and perched on the arm. She tipped her head to the side and regarded him.
Lights from the villa tinted her hair midnight blue. Air stirred by the ocean plastered the front of her dress to her body and showed off her nipples defiantly straining the filmy fabric. “We can take care of more than one item on your wish list. Moonlit walk, swim, or maybe…something else?”
Now she was trying to hurry him, but whether it stemmed from nerves or need—or some of each—he couldn’t be sure. He was all need, but he could bank it for the sake of making certain she felt the same. A swim would be a good place to start. Not just because he liked the idea of her naked and wet, but it gave her the shield of the water, in case she felt shy. It also gave her a chance to check out the goods, because he wasn’t shy, and while science insisted men responded more powerfully to visual stimuli, in his experience, women responded to visuals, too. The responses might be less obvious, but he read them just fine.
“Are you trying to talk me out of the swim?” He toed one shoe off. “What’s the matter? No pools in Siberia? I’m beginning to think you’re afraid of the water.” He slid his foot out of his other shoe. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me.” With that assurance out there, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off.
Oh yeah, women responded to visuals. She bit her lip, and her gaze roamed all over his chest and then meandered down his abs. When her attention dropped to where he’d hooked his thumbs into the waist of his pants, he undid the button, lowered the zipper, and peeled them down his legs, along with his underwear. He straightened and watched her eyes laser in on what he liked to think of as the best of the goods. Her openmouthed expression suggested she agreed. She whispered something that sounded a lot like, “Thank you, Jesus.”
Knowing he had her full attention—or parts of him did—he reached down and took his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. He straightened again, flipped it open, and slid a crucial piece of equipment from inside. Then he walked toward her.
Her eyes widened, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. It wasn’t until he came to a stop directly in front of her that she lifted her gaze to his face. He tossed the condom on the table next to her purse. “Something for later.”
She blinked at him. “Just one?”
He knelt and skimmed his hands up her calves. “Big talk from a woman still wearing all these clothes.”
“It’s not really that many. Dress, panties…” Her voice trailed off as he rounded her knees and continued up her thighs, raising her dress as he went.
“And yet you’re still wearing both.” With her skirt bunched at the tops of her thighs, he brought his hands to a stop.
Her legs splayed open a little, creating a shadowy tunnel that disappeared under a single drape of the black sundress. “I guess I got distracted by the scenery.”
“Distracted, huh? Siberian undergarments must be very complicated if they require your full focus.”
Her lips twitched. “Very complicated.”
Determined to tease her right out of her panties, he extended his fingers until he encountered strips of lace hugging her hips. He plucked them. “NASA trained me to handle complicated projects. Maybe I can help?”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble. You seem committed to your swim.” She planted her hands behind her on the cushion and leaned back.
“No trouble.” He threaded his fingers through her thong. “Lift up.”
She did, but then sagged slightly as he flossed the panties over parts of her densely packed with sensitive nerves. He limited the caress to a gentle play of lace against flesh. Even when her eyelids drooped. Even when her hips rocked.
“I think I found the problem.” He kept his voice low, so as not to pull her out of the pleasure, and flexed his fingers, drawing the panties tight between her legs.
Her head fell back. A soft moan tumbled from her parted lips. “Y-you did?”
“Yeah. They’re all wedged up in here”—he flexed his fingers again. They were now. “It’s a delicate situation.”
Her arms began to tremble from the strain of holding her position. “You have no idea.”
Oh, but he did. Keeping one hand on her hip for support, he edged the index finger of his other under the vee at the back of her thong. “Don’t worry. I’ll go slowly.”
“Oh God.”
She shivered as he trailed his finger along the line of lace, dislodging it in increments. Her breath hitched at one point, but he stayed the course until he freed the fabric from between her cheeks. Then he snagged the strips now riding low on her hips and slowly drew the panties down her legs, making sure the wispy triangle—black, as it turned out—tickled her inner thighs during the journey. Goose bumps rose on her satiny skin. So responsive. “Mission accomplished.”
She released a shuddery breath and lowered her hips. He guided one high heel through the panties, then the other. When he finished, he looked up to find big blue-green eyes open and focused on him.
“My hero,” she sighed, and took the scrap of lace dangling from his finger. “How can I ever thank you?”
A lot of options sprang to mind, but unfortunately, he couldn’t suggest any of them right now or this would be the shortest one-night stand of his life. Instead, he stood and let her see exactly what having his hands under her skirt had done to him. “I’m thinking you could…”
&nbs