Page 93 of Billionaire Romance

2

Ankor

All night, she turns circles in my head. In my dreams, I see her on the beach again, except this time there’s no crowd between us, separating us. There’s also no emergency distracting us, claiming her attention. This time, it’s just the two of us on the beach, and when I reach down to draw that flowing dress off of her body, she smiles and lifts her arms to encourage me.

Of course, thanks to my frustrating as hell sleep cycle, I wake up just before the dress falls to the sand beside us, not letting me get a single glimpse of what’s beneath it.

With a groan, I slap my buzzing alarm into silence and roll out of bed, forcing myself through the motions. In the shower, I shut my eyes tight and let the fantasy run a little longer, the hot water cascading over me as I picture those big blue eyes of hers locked on mine, the way they did on the beach, just for a second. I picture those thick, pillowy lips of hers kissing down my body, until they wrap around the tip of my cock. Then she’d peek up at me again from beneath her long dark lashes, smiling a little, and…

Fuck.

Yeah, I really need to get laid soon. With a growl of frustration, I finish showering off and get dressed for class again, just like every morning. I slept a little too late for my morning jog along the beach this time, but that’s fine, I figure. I’ll have time over lunch, assuming some other emergency doesn’t crop up and steal my attention—or risk exposing me to too many damn cameras—again.

I head to the pool and find the usual crowd. I wave and smile, greeting each woman by name before we start the lesson. Usually I have them warm up in the shallow end with some easy exercises. Knee-ups, stretching under the water, some kicking while they’re holding onto the side of the pool, to get their equilibrium right.

We’re about halfway through those when I hear a low cough from the far side of the pool.

“Excuse me, is it too late to join the class?” a soft, feminine voice asks.

I turn, along with half the rest of the women in class, and freeze in place, my eyebrows shooting upward.

Because there she is. Almost like she’s walked straight out of my fantasy and into reality. Granted, she’s dressed differently today—she’s ditched the long flowing cover-up for something a little more revealing this time. A one-piece bathing suit in a deep navy blue that really brings out the color of her eyes—not to mention hugs every inch of her curves.

It’s a good thing I’m waist-deep in water and wearing really loose trunks for this lesson, too. Because fucking hell. The sight of those curves—a tiny waist between the luscious swell of her breasts and broad hips that make me long to run my hands over them (not to mention my tongue).

I want her. No, scratch that. I need her.

It’s an instinctive thought, every bit as animal and base as breathing or hungering. I force myself to tamp it down, as much as I possibly can. With all that running through my mind, it takes me a second to drag my eyes away from those curves and back up to her face. It takes an even longer second to process what she just said.

When I finally manage to, I grin. “Of course not. Jump right in.”

Her gaze lingers on mine. Unless I’m much mistaken, to judge by the flush in her cheeks and the way her eyes keep dipping down to my chest and then back up to my face, she doesn’t hate the view either. For once, I’m glad to be noticed. Even if it’s a huge risk, one I shouldn’t be taking… I can’t bring myself to wish the moment away.

My eyes linger on her as she bends to climb into the pool. Every move she makes just shows off another turn to her curves and makes my hands itch to touch her.

To distract myself, I turn back to Mrs. Jenkins, who I was in the middle of teaching about the breast stroke kick. She shoots me the kind of sly smirk that tells me she knows exactly what I’m thinking right now, and darts a glance over her shoulder at the new girl sliding into place along the nearest wall of the shallow end, taking the ladder down into the pool. “Nice to have some young blood here.” Mrs. Jenkins’s eyes spark where they catch mine. “Finally, someone age appropriate to gawk at you, handsome.”

I snort and gesture at her to try the kick again. “No amount of flirting is going to get you out of this lesson easy, you know, Sandra.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” she replies with a throaty laugh, and I have to roll my eyes.

I also can’t resist watching her from the corner of my eye, even while I’m attempting to help Mrs. Jenkins with her stroke. Finally, she waves me off with an eye roll of her own. “Go on,” she scolds me. “Shouldn’t you help the newest student first?”

I suppress a smirk, but I do as she asks, and head across the pool to where my mystery student is clinging to the wall, despite the fact that we’re in shallow enough water that it only comes up to her chest.

Her perfectly voluptuous chest. The one piece she’s wearing isn’t the most revealing thing, but it still shows off several inches of cleavage. Enough that I can imagine exactly how perfect the pert, soft, pillowy breasts beneath would be. I wonder how long it would take her nipples to harden under my thumbs, if I were to run my hands across those tits now. Or better yet, my tongue…

She clears her throat, and I shake myself out of the daze and force my eyes back to her face, only to find her watching me. Am I imagining things, or is there a hint of amusement in her eyes and the curve of her lips as she studies me right back?

“Glad you could make it to class today, Ms...?” I leave in a healthy blank for her to fill in.

Still, there’s a split second where she hesitates, almost like she doesn’t want to tell me her name. I watch her eyes cloud over, like she’s processing some kind of internal debate. But eventually she shakes her head and sticks out a hand, managing a smile. “Sinclair,” she says.

“Sinclair.” I arch an eyebrow. “That a first or a last name?” I take her hand in mine and try very hard not to think about how soft and smooth her narrow fingers are. How good they would feel running over my body or wrapped around my cock.

Damn. I’m in so much trouble.

Her smile widens, just a little. It’s enough for me to glimpse a hint of a dimple on one cheek, and that is enough to drive me wild. “First name,” she says. “I know it’s kind of unusual.”

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