Page 35 of A Bride for the Mafia King

She retreats to the bathroom to change as I take up position in a lounge chair beside the glimmering infinity pool just outside. Nothing like having options.

Left to my own devices for the moment I suddenly have half a mind to be annoyed with myself—sand in my shoes, the scent of salt thick in the air, and the knowledge that I had actual work piling up in Chicago—but all of it vanishes the second she steps out of the house in that fucking bikini.

Red. Barely covering her. Absolutely criminal. My mouth goes dry and my brain short-circuits. For once, I’m grateful for the aviators covering my eyes. She smirks as she approaches, she’d caught the way I went stock-still.

My mouth goes dry.

"Fuck me," I murmur.

“Cat got your tongue, Tolya?” she teases, her hips swaying slightly as she walks, sunglasses perched on her head, hair wind-tossed and sun-kissed.

She laughs bright and careless, like she hasn’t grown up inside the same twisted world I have.

“You’re not just Russian. You’re practically translucent,” she says, poking a finger at my chest where I’d dared to undo the top buttons of my linen shirt.

I caught her wrist in a loose grip and pulled her flush against me, enjoying the way her eyes widened.

“Careful, kotyonok,” I murmured, dipping my head close enough to brush my lips against her sun-warmed skin. “Mocking me has consequences.”

“Promises, promises,” she whispers, grinning all the while. She smirks, turning on her heel and strutting toward the pool.

"Later," she calls. "Right now, I'm swimming."

I last five minutes watching her swim, her gorgeous body sleek as she slips through the water uninhibited. Now, she’s in the pool, floating on her back, hair fanned out like ink in water. The wet bikini clinging to her curves in a way that makes my pulse thunder.

I stand up, rolling up the sleeves of my linen shirt. My slacks are already undone.

She catches the movement, eyes locking on mine.

"Can’t resist, huh?"

"No," I admit.

She swims to the edge, arms folding over the tile, chin resting on her hands as she looks up at me. "You look like an ad for Russian sunscreen."

"You think you're funny."

"I know I am."

I strip off the shirt, watch her eyes track the movement. Her smirk softens, a sensual smile replacing it as I wade into the pool. The water is warm, wrapping around me like silk, but it's nothing compared to the heat rolling off her as she swims through the water to meet me.

Our mouths crash together. Tongue and lips, desperation and delighted with the contact. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and her legs latch around my waist underwater. My hands sliding down the slick curve of her back, pulling the cord on the bikini to undo it and free her beautiful breasts for my pleasure.

We kiss like we’ve never kissed before. Like this is the last place on earth. Like nothing outside the water, nothing beyond us exists.

"Tolya," she gasps as I move, lifting her as I wade back out of the pool.

"Is this what you want?"

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation.

We barely make it to the lounge chair before I take her again. Her back arches, nails digging into my shoulders. And I don’t let her go until we are both satisfied and spent.

Later, we lie tangled in sun-warmed sheets in the villa’s oversized bed. My head resting on the pillows as Eva, propped up on an elbow beside me, traces lazy circles on my chest.

"This doesn’t feel real," she says.

"It is," I say. “For now.”