She slices through the water like my blade through bone, her golden skin glistening with sunshine and happiness. She makes me hard just watching her.Who the fuck am I kidding?Everything about her makes me hard, not least her determination and drive. Six months ago, she couldn't swim, and now she’s almost as good as me.
Almost.
Admittedly, her progress has been stunted by my own selfish, insatiable need to get her naked the minute she struts into view in a white bikini. My wife doesn’t just wear the clothes I buy for her. She owns them, and then she ownsmeby aiming that perfect body at my heart and pulling that trigger of a smile.
“Enough,” I roar, crashing my bourbon down on the table and pacing to the edge of the swimming pool.
She reaches for the side right away, her glossy dark head bobbing up in surprise.
“What’s the matter? Is it Ella?” I watch her turn toward the house where Sofía is most likely spoiling the fuck out of our beautiful daughter. She will never know another life, the same as Eve. Nothing will ever be less than perfect for them.
“No, it’s me.” My T-shirt disappears in one fluid movement, and then I’m diving in to join her, drowning in her soft laugh as she wraps her endless legs around my waist and digs her fingers into my hair.
My mouth seeks out hers and we dip and duel like it’s the last fucking kiss on earth. Every moment is cherished. Every moment hits the deepest parts of me and heals another crack and scar.
“Are you still worried about him?” she says, breaking away with a gasp.
“I’m more worried about my dick,” I snarl, pushing her up against the side of the pool and dropping my hand to her breast.
“I mean it, Dante,” she chides, brushing my hand away. “I know that expression. You always act like you don't care, but when Joseph’s not here your mind wanders.”
“Does it look like it’s wandering now?” I take her delicate jaw between my fingers and position her mouth perfectly for me to claim it, all over again.
“You’re blood brothers,” she whispers. “It’s okay to want him to be okay.”
“He’d be fucking fantastic if it wasn’t for your fucked-up friend.”
It’s not fair and it’s not true, and I deserve the anger that flares up in her sapphire-blue eyes.
I drop her jaw and step back, breaking her embrace.
“He loves her,” she says quietly.
“He doesn’t know how to love,” I say irritably.
“Funny.” She cocks her head to the side and gives methatlook. “That’s the same thing you used to say to me.”
I grit my teeth and reach the other side of the pool in two savage strokes. My wife appeals to a heart I never knew I had before I stole hers and made it bleed for me.
Draping a towel around my shoulders, I down the rest of my bourbon, pick up my cell and head indoors. I’ve barely crossed the threshold when it starts ringing. I glance at the number and frown.
Speak of the other devil.
“Grayson,” I snap out. “Tell me you have them.”
There’s silence, and then I hear some woman screaming out in terror.“I can't wake him, Vi. I can’t fucking wake him.”
The bourbon starts burning up the back of my throat. Instinct is telling me all kinds of shit I don’t want to hear. My gaze swings back to Eve. She’s busy climbing out of the pool to follow me inside. She catches sight of my expression and freezes.
“What is it?” she mouths.
I turn back to the house, not wanting her to see the true depth of my unease.
“Grayson? What the fuck is going on?”
The next noises I hear are the soundtrack to my life: Explosions. Bullets hitting metal. Glass shattering. Finally, someone speaks.
“Dante?” sobs a voice. “Dante, please don’t hang up on me.”