Page 13 of Swept Away
His fingers moving down my spine.
“Do you need a glass?”
“No,” he says, his voice echoing behind me.
Startled, I let the door drop.
“I can help myself,” he says. “If you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Yes. I don’t mind.”
I step back, happy to put some distance between us.
He opens the door and scoops out the bottles of water.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks evenly while smoothly straightening and shifting toward me.
“Do I need to?” I ask, stretching my hand out to grab the bottle he offers me, making sure there’s space between us, and I don’t feel the full effect of the electricity zapping in the air.
He uncaps the bottle and gulps down most of the water while I watch his Adam’s apple moving.
He sets his bottle down.
“It depends.”
A glint of mischief glimmers in his eyes.
“So you say I should be afraid of you?”
He tilts his chin in the direction of my drink.
“I say you should drink your water.”
My eyebrows wiggle up.
“May I ask why?”
With two languishing steps, he inches closer to me again.
I’m propped against the kitchen island when he stops in front of me.
“You’ll find out soon,” he says in a sultry, flirtatious voice.
My eyes dart back and forth as the seconds pass.
“What are you talking about exactly?”
“Drink it,” he says in the same commanding voice, yet somewhat wrapped in velvet.
Compelled, I uncap my bottle and take a few sips.
“Drink all of it. It’s not that much.”
My eyes dive into his eyes, his silent encouragement removing the last of my resolve.
I empty the bottle.
“Good girl,” he says, taking it from me and setting it away from us.
