He shrugged. “It’s the main reason why we chose it when we moved here.” Stalling, he grabbed a couple of towels from the folded stack and shook them out.
“I had no idea you’d be out running tonight. You scared the hell out of me.”
“You should be afraid of me, Mila,” he replied. “You barely know me. Did you even make a safe call before you came here? What if I was a monster and locked you in my basement—kept you as a sex slave?”
“You’re not the type. You prefer your women willing,” she said, full of a bravado that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She could probably handle herself, and he assumed she had a gun in her purse, but she really shouldn’t have been doing this kind of work without backup. At least at Fitte she could have shouted for help.
“I do, but should you be trusting that?”
“Would you lock me in your basement?”
“No.” He laughed. “That would be awkward since the basement is Fox and Addison’s bedroom. You’d have to settle for being locked in my bedroom. I don’t even have a tower.”
“That’s a shame. I’d almost stay locked up willingly if there was a tower,” she said playfully. “Especially if there was cable.”
He brushed desert grit off a lounge chair for her, and gestured for her to sit.
“You wouldn’t have time for TV.” He winked. “You watch it a lot?”
“When I have time.” Gingerly, she lowered herself to the chair and perched on the edge.
“What kind of shows do you watch?” Were they really talking about that?
“Crime shows,” she said then winced subtly. “Um. Nature documentaries, mostly.”
Wow. A slipup already. He wondered what it would take for her to give up the whole truth. “Not romantic dramas?”
“No.” Her mouth twisted. “I have trouble believing people can find that kind of contentment together long term.”
“You’re too young to have given up already.” He stripped off his shorts, and pretended not to notice her gawking as he dove into the pool. The cool water closed in over his head, stripping sweat and road dust away. He swam the length of the pool underwater, glad for the calming effect it had on his lust.
When his head broke the surface, Mila was standing uncertainly by the pool’s edge.
“Can I come in?”
“Did you bring a suit?”
“No.” She smiled crookedly. “But you’re not wearing one either, and it’s not like you haven’t seen it all anyway.”
“True.” He eyed her with interest, knowing exactly what was under her clothing but very interested in seeing whether his memory had made her hotter than she actually was. He doubted it.
“Strip.”
She opened her mouth to object. Although her hands were poised to pull off her T-shirt, being ordered to do it was very different than choosing to do it on her own. Would she obey? Just how submissive was she?
Quickly, she tugged her clothes off, throwing them on the lounge chair. Naked, she was just as glorious as his memory of her had been. Smooth skin, tits and hips and round ass, she had the kind of body that begged for bite marks. She turned toward him shyly.
“Very nice,” he murmured, just loud enough to hear. “Now turn so I can see you.”
“Turn?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes. In a circle.” He treaded water, focusing on the movement of his body so he didn’t launch himself out of the pool and bend her over the nearest piece of furniture. “Now, stand up straight. Chin up.”
She groaned, but complied, moving with more grace than he’d anticipated, even though she rushed through it. Rushing could be trained out of a girl.
“Can I come in now?” she asked, her demeanor already sinking into that lov
ely natural submissiveness that seemed to run so close to the surface with her.