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The towel flicks once in his hand, impatience clear. “Come out of there, Grace.”

Goosebumps ripple over my skin, and it has nothing to do with the water temperature—the pool is heated. I swim toward him, grip the ladder rail, and haul myself out, my body feeling heavy under the pull of gravity.

He surveys me as I straighten, and my core tightens at the way his lips part. I’d forgotten all about the bikini.

“Where did you get that?” he asks, his voice rough enough to scrape.

“You gave Anya a card. We used it to buy this and a few other things.” I shrug, feigning a casualness I don’t feel.

One brow lifts as he wraps the towel around me. “I gave you my card and that’s all you bought?”

“If you want, next time, I can try harder to bankrupt you.”

“You’d have to try very hard.”

“Challenge accepted.”

With a smirk, he leans closer. “You don’t know of enough things to bankrupt a man like me.”

My skin tingles, and I swallow hard. “I promise, I’ll try my best.”

His smirk widens a little at that. “I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

I smile faintly. “If I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well use the little freedom you gave me.” And try to distract myself from thoughts of the world outside this house—Millie.

He makes a humming sound that resonates through the towel and sends pleasant vibrations into my skin, then steps back and tilts his head toward the house. “Come.”

I gulp as I follow him, my limbs already starting to shake, because I know where he’s taking me. I’ve known since he appeared at the pool’s edge.

Sure enough, he leads me to the room I’m now used to calling the BDSM room.

The door closing behind us makes me jolt a little, and he notices, quirking a brow. “Jumpy.”

I shrug it off.

He doesn’t push, just motions for me to follow him into the bathroom. “You should wash the chlorine off.” I nod, agreeing, and wait for him to leave. He doesn’t move.

“You’re going to stand there and watch?” I finally ask after a few awkward seconds.

“Oh, don’t mind me.” He folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to make yourself come in here before we get started.”

My lips part in surprise—the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. “And who watches you to make sure you don’t do the same?”

“I have enough self-control for the both of us, solnyshko. Besides, this isn’t about me.” A coldness slips in beneath the heat. “It’s about you and who sent you to kill me.”

My heart shrivels as I turn away from him. I hate when he brings that up, even though it’s true—I did try to kill him. I step into the shower, stripping off my bikini in a clinical way, but movement at the edge of my vision pulls my attention back to him.

I glance over and inhale sharply.

There’s an unholy light in his eyes as they trail down my body, still glistening from my time in the pool. His hand slips into his pants, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he rearranges his cock.

My focus fractures for a second as I watch him—I’m not the only one suffering. For whatever reason, he still hasn’t made himself come. What if I could exploit that to make him lose control?

I turn on the water and reach for the soap, working it into a slow, lazy lather. Then, eyes still on him, I let my hands glide over my breasts with a deliberateness that is entirely for his benefit, fingers circling my nipples until they tighten into peaks. I pinch one, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger, and a jolt of heat shoots straight to my core. But instead of easing off, I pinch harder.

Let him see.

My other hand drifts lower, soaping my stomach before dipping between my thighs. I take my time there too, slow and thorough as I wash my folds, brushing my clit like it’s nothing—like I’m not already slick, like my throbbing pussy isn’t getting harder to ignore.