“You looked pretty alone to me,” he says darkly, making my stomach sink. “What did he say to you?” he repeats, more aggressively this time.
I swallow, looking up at him. “I can’t—nothing all that important. He said he was sorry for sending you after me.”
“Yeah, I bet he is,” Brant mutters.
“He mostly said dumb stuff like that, just trying to make excuses for what he did—or tried to do. Nothing important, Brant. Nothing worth getting upset over.”
“What did he say to make you afraid of me?”
That question sends dread pouring through me. “I’m not—I’m not afraid of you.”
His lips curve up, but there’s no humor on his face. “Yeah, you look real calm for someone who isn’t afraid and didn’t do anything wrong,” he says dryly. “Why’d he touch you? What did you say to him?”
I hate the distrust I see glimmering in his hard eyes. There’s nothing loving there right now. He’s guarded and angry, looking at me like I’m an opponent instead of a teammate.
I don’t want to be his opponent. We both know he’d win, anyway. I’m a lover, not a fighter, and Brant has fought a lot more than he’s loved.
“Brant,” I say softly, imploringly, reaching a hand up to caress his hard jaw. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear. Nothing he said matters. I didn’t listen to any of it.”
“That’s not how it looks from where I’m standing,” Brant states, obstinate as ever. “Bri could’ve seen you—did you think of that?”
I didn’t do anything.
There’s no point repeating myself over and over again. He’s not interested in my innocence right now. I don’t know what he wants, what he needs, but I try to turn it around and step into his shoes. If I were in his place, if he had been in that pool with some other woman who was leaning in and whispering in his ear, I know what I’d want to hear.
Bracing myself for whatever reaction he might have, I tighten my arm around his waist and pull my body against his. “I don’t want him, Brant. I don’t want anyone but you, I promise.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. He just watches me, skepticism written all over his handsome features.
“I’m sorry he cornered me. I tried to leave the pool as soon as he got in, but he kept stopping me. He was just trying to get in my head. I’m not stupid enough to let him.”
“You sure?” he asks, a little coolly. “It looked like he was in your head a couple minutes ago.”
I frown at him mildly but brush it off. I don’t think he meant to imply I might be stupid, and there’s little point picking a side fight when we’re already in one.
I’m not winning with words, so I give up on them. Instead, I push up on my tiptoes, lock my arms around his neck, and pull him down so I can kiss him.
He might be stubborn, but I’m half-naked and wet, so his body responds. He winds an arm around my waist to pull me closer, but after only a few seconds, he reconsiders and plants his hands under my butt so he can lift me.
I wrap my legs around him and let him carry me over to the bed. I have a hunch he’s about to drop me on it, so I break the kiss to tell him, “Wait.”
He looks up at me in question, but only for a moment. I reach behind my neck to untie the halter and let the straps fall, then I undo the tie behind my back. The damp fabric falls forward and I catch it in my hand, then toss it through the open bathroom door so my wet swimsuit doesn’t dampen the bed.
“The bottoms are even wetter,” I offer with exaggerated, eyelash-batting innocence.
“Better get ’em off you then, huh?” Brant grumbles back.
I nod my head, locking my arms around his body as he eases forward and lays me down across the bed. Despite his bluster, he’s gentle when he puts me down, and that tells me all I really need to know.
His hands move under my ass, not letting it touch the neatly made bed, then he yanks my bikini bottoms down and climbs back down to peel them off me.
Once I’m completely naked, he tosses the bottoms to join the top piece on the bathroom floor, then grabs my cool thighs and wrenches them apart. I blush as he looks between my legs, still fully dressed himself.
He looks handsome as hell today in a casual navy blue T-shirt and navy shorts, showing off just a little of his tan, muscular body. I love how strong he is—not gym-strong like Theo, but the kind of strength that develops naturally from all his manly pursuits.
When Brant’s gaze returns to my face, his eyes narrow skeptically at the sight of my dreamy smile. “What’s that look for?”