Never Underestimate a Caffarelli

‘So?’

‘So you need to leave.’

His dark eyes did another lazy sweep of her upper body, lingering for a moment on the upthrust of her breasts where her crossed-over arms had showcased them as good as any push-up bra. Her flesh tingled where his gaze had rested. It felt like a fire had been lit beneath her skin.

‘Last time I looked, this was my château and my pool. If anyone is trespassing it is you.’

Lily set her mouth. ‘I’m not getting out until you leave.’

He gave her a devil-may-care smile, his hazel eyes glinting. ‘I’m not leaving until you get out.’

The water hadn’t seemed cold until he had laid down that challenge. Goose bumps peppered all over her body as she tried to stare him down. Her T-shirt clung to her like a wet sheet and she knew that right at this moment it was probably showing far more than she was trying to hide.

Was the moonlight muted enough that he wouldn’t see the roadmap of her pain on her arms? What did it matter if he did see it? It wasn’t as if she were trying to impress him. She was leaving at first light. She had packed all her things and was ready to go. Dominique had slipped the flight details he had booked under her door only a couple of hours ago.

‘Could you pass me my towel?’ It was a form of compromise but there was no way Lily was going to let him win this battle.

‘Swim a lap without the T-shirt.’

‘Pardon?’

His eyes trapped hers. ‘Take it off.’

She felt a traitorous frisson pass over her flesh at his authoritative tone. ‘I’ll take it off if you join me in the water.’ As soon as she issued the challenge, she regretted it. What was she thinking? He loved a challenge. Didn’t she know that by now?

‘Nice one.’ He gave her a gleaming half smile. ‘Clever. Tactical.’

‘So...’ She swallowed. ‘You’ll do it?’ Don’t do it! Don’t do it!

He moved his chair closer to the side of the pool. His eyes stayed on hers as he unbuttoned his shirt. Her breath stalled as each inch of his chest was revealed. He shrugged himself out of his shirt and tossed it to one side.

Lily gulped as he started on the waistband of his trousers. Was he really going to join her in the water? Yikes! ‘Um...maybe this is not such a great idea. What about your plaster cast? It’ll get soak—’

‘I’ll get another one put on if it gets wet. Anyway, it’s almost time it came off. What’s a couple of weeks?’

‘You can’t just ignore your doctor’s orders to do what you like.’

‘Water therapy was part of your plan for me, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, but you told me you didn’t want me to stay,’ Lily quickly reminded him. ‘I’m officially off duty. You terminated my contract. I don’t have to do anything with you if I don’t want to— What are you doing?’

‘I’m getting undressed.’

Lily clamped her hands over her eyes. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘I always swim naked when I’m at home. It’s totally private here.’

‘But I can see you!’

‘So?’

She stole a little peek from between her fingers. ‘I don’t want to see you.’

‘Then don’t look.’

How could she not look? He looked like he had just stepped down off a plinth in the Louvre, so beautifully carved and sculptured. Everything about him spoke of a man in the prime of his life, strong, virile and staggeringly potent if the proud heft of him beneath the black underwear he was wearing was any indication.

Was he going to take them off?

She opened her fingers a tiny bit wider. The muscles of his left arm bunched as they took his weight as he eased out of the chair but he left his underwear on. She wondered if peeling them off would be too difficult in the chair. Maybe once he was in the water...

Eek! He was in the water!

Lily snatched in a breath as the water his body displaced when he entered the pool moved across her breast like a liquid caress. Her nipples reacted as if he had touched them, tight and aching, so sensitive she could feel them pushing against the lace of her sodden bra.

Her belly quivered as she roved her gaze over his chest. He had the broad and well-defined shoulders and biceps of a regular swimmer. His chest was generously covered with coarse masculine hair that spread from a wide T across his pectoral muscles, narrowing down over the washboard of his flat abdomen to disappear—rather tantalisingly, she thought—beneath his hip-hugging briefs.