Page 49 of The Tycoon's Shock Heir

He hauled himself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool, feeling sunbeams hot on his shoulders. Ahead, one of the topless women sat up on her elbows and lowered her sunglasses to stare. To his right, a waiter served Ruby a glass of water. She lifted the glass and beamed her beautiful smile in thanks. His eyes fell again to her blossoming figure. Their child was there, growing. This on top of everything else.

The timing was like a torrent. Everything was coming together and he could sink or swim.

He had to conduct this like the symphony of his life. Save the bank. Keep Claudio at bay. And find the best possible solution for the new baby that would soon be in the world. Of everything, he felt this the keenest of all. Because he would not let the child down. It was unthinkable.

‘Hey, come on, I’ll teach you a little water confidence,’ he said, leaping up and walking towards her, dripping water all over the terrace.

* * *

Ruby looked up from her daydream and saw the man who filled her mind. He was everything every woman would want. His body was protector and warrior and lover all at once. Water droplets were coursing down from his shoulders over his pecs in the way her fingers had that night—joyously, greedily. The hair on his legs hugged every building muscle in wet tendrils. His shorts were soaked, outlining him, and she could feel herself respond.

She wanted him. As fiercely as she had wanted him that first time. Yes, she was jealous of those other women, and probably all of the other women to come, but right now—today—he was hers, and she was going to claim him.

‘I can’t swim,’ she said, staring up at him.

‘Did nobody ever teach you? Doesn’t matter—it’s just confidence. Come on.’

He reached for her hand and tugged her gently to her feet and she walked with him, feet slapping on the warm tiles, over to the edge of the pool. Steps disappeared into the blue water and she stood, looking at them.

‘Come on, dancer girl. Try it.’

‘I’m not sporty like you,’ she said, pausing. ‘You seem to be able to swim and sail and play rugby. The only thing I’m good at is dancing.’

‘The only thing you’ve tried is dancing,’ he corrected, and he was right. ‘There’s more to life than ballet. Come on—trust me.’

He stood beside her, held her hand in his as she walked down into the water, her feet slipping slightly on the mosaic tiles.

‘All you have to do is get in all the way up to your waist...’

They walked together into the empty pool. She started to laugh. Thankfully the little children had all gone for shelter from the harsh midday sun. Only a couple of sun-worshippers remained, toasting their bronzed bodies on the loungers.

‘And keep walking until it comes up to your chest. Feel good?’

The water was gloriously cooling on her hot skin, and his hand round hers was rough and strong.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said.

‘Feel the water drag at your legs. Now, let’s walk in a circle...just get used to how it feels. OK, now hold on to the edge of the pool and flutter your legs up.’

She clutched on to the edge and stretched herself out, kicking hard against the water.

‘And soak me too—that’s no problem at all,’ he said, laughing.

She turned to see him covered in spray from where she had splash-kicked.

‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ she said, and automatically let go of the side to reach for him.

As she did so she slipped towards him, and he caught her, there against his chest, holding her safe in his arms. Their bodies slid together, wet and smooth, and then it happened. Eyes met. She saw his mouth open for her kiss. She put her arms around his neck as he lowered his head down and kissed her. His wet lips and wet face found hers and it wasn’t a gentle kiss—not for long. It was a branding. It was a demanding mark that said she was his.

She felt it deep within her heart even as her brain called a little warning. She was getting in way over her head again. But she couldn’t fight it—didn’t want to. Words formed and died in her throat as she let the waves of passion pull her under, as she let his lips taste and his tongue plunder.

‘We have to take this somewhere else,’ he whispered, holding her close.

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