Married to the Secret Billionaire

“Not the people I hang out with every day,” I point out, and she relaxes a little. “It’s not that weird. Besides, you’re here now. You can make up for lost time. We’ll get you swimming out there in the surfer waves in no time.”

Her breath hitches again, like she’s nervous, but she quickly changes it into a huffing laugh, to cover it up. “Oh, I don’t know about swimming in the ocean or anything. I just want to know some basics, for… if… well, you know, in case.”

I think back to yesterday, to her rescue of that boy on the sand. “I’ll admit, it does surprise me you know CPR so well, though,” I tell her, before I turn to demonstrate how she should hold onto the wall to practice floating on her stomach first, with her legs kicked out behind her.

She imitates me, those big blue eyes of hers fixed on mine. “Oh.” Her cheeks flush yet again. “You saw that?”

I crack a smile. “It’s a pretty small beach. Even if I hadn’t seen it myself, pretty sure half the town’s been talking about the mysterious heroine who saved the day.”

She ducks her head, as if that sentence worries her.

“It’s a compliment, you know. You saved that boy’s life. It was really impressive to watch.”

“Yeah,” she says, still without looking at me. “I’m glad he’s okay.” Her legs have already started to sink, her hips and belly now too. She grimaces. “Am I doing this right?”

“Relax,” I tell her. “May I?” I reach out, but I hesitate before touching her, and wait for her to nod.

She does.

I’ve only done this with older women until now. It’s never exactly been an exciting part of my day, helping people adjust their bodies into the correct swimming positions. But now… When she floats back to the surface, I catch her hip with one hand and draw her legs up and back. She gasps a little, though whether it’s from my touch or the fact that I’m pulling her body farther into the water than she’s dared before, I’m not sure.

It’s all I can do not to stare as her pert, perfect ass pops out of the water for a second. She flounders, starting to flail her legs, but I hold her there.

“Relax,” I repeat. “Try kicking your legs a little, in small motions.”

She does, and I sense her shoulders relaxing slightly, when she realizes she isn’t immediately about to faceplant underwater and drown. “This isn’t so bad,” she says, turning to catch my eye again. My hand is still on her hip, and I’m definitely not imagining things when she shifts a little closer to me, so now her whole side grazes against my taut ab muscles.

“Now you’re getting the hang of it.” I grin down at her. “Ready to try another position?”

She actually bats her eyelashes, just for a quick second. “Just tell me what to do,” she says, and fuck, the way she looks at me when she does makes me want to tell her to do something entirely inappropriate for a public swimming lesson, with a flock of old ladies ten feet away, watching us with knowing smirks.

“Roll over,” I say. I slide my hand down to her belly to brace her, and this time when her breath hitches, I know it’s thanks to me. Her muscles tense beneath my hand, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she leans harder into me, as she lets me flip her onto her back, her hands still on the wall, her neck braced against it too.

My hand slides around her waist so it’s against her lower back now, and god, it’s driving me crazy to be this close to every inch of her perfect curves and not be able to do anything about it. “Arch your back,” I tell her, when her lower half starts to sink again.

She does, and it pushes both her perfect tits and her hips up out of the water. For a split second, it’s agony, because all I can do is imagine how she’d look lying like this in my bed instead, spread underneath me as I bent down to kiss those perfect bow lips of hers, then run my tongue across every inch of that sculpted body…

I shake the filthy thoughts away. Not now.

Sinclair is floating on the surface, her neck braced against the wall, and her eyes widen with surprise. “I’m floating.” She lets out a little huff of surprised laughter.

“Not quite.” I keep one hand under her lower back and slide my other up to beneath her shoulder blades. “Ready to let go of the wall?”

She bites her lower lip again, the same motion that almost drove me wild earlier. Her gaze darts to mine, and I can see real nervousness there, underneath the flirtation I know she’s trying to maintain. “Um… I’m scared,” she finally admits in a mumble.