It was too dark to tell, but I could have sworn he blushed. But then his eyes narrowed. “You’re flirting.”

“Am I?” I totally was. I couldn’t help it; Lucian was kind of adorable when he reacted to my blatant attempts as though confused but intrigued. So often, he unbalanced me with his cool authority. It was satisfying to return the favor.

Competitor at heart, Lucian rallied. He planted his feet; he was tall enough to stand without dipping underwater. “You know you are.” Lucian’s gaze moved over me carefully, as though he was attempting to read my mind. “You’re not trying to make me feel better about myself, are you?”

I paused, floating there, my heart squeezing tight. “I’m flirting with you because I enjoy it. I never know what you’ll say, and it usually makes me laugh.”

“Ah. I’m to play the role of jester.”

“Are you deliberately trying to tick me off? Do you want me to go?”

His eyes glinted. “I don’t want you to go.”

“So you’re trying to annoy me.”

His chuckle was warm and sent little flutters of pleasure through my insides. “Just keeping you on your toes, Em.”

That I could work with. I shot forward, ready to swim, and he darted aside like he thought I might jump him. I rolled my eyes, swimming around him in a lazy circle. “You’re kind of twitchy tonight.”

“Twitchy.” He apparently didn’t like the sound of that.

“Mmm. Like you don’t know whether or not to flee.”

“You got that right. This line of conversation is tempting me to run right about now.”

Funny.

I continued to circle, but he followed, keeping me in his sights.

“Is it because we’ve seen each other naked?” I asked.

Lucian jerked so hard he splashed himself. “Jesus, Em.”

I fought a grin. “What? It’s true. You told me you watched Dark Castle.”

“Anya wasn’t fully nude—”

“As good as. Aside from showing that little V of hair—”

“God . . . ,” he moaned expansively.

“I was basically naked.”

“You’re trying to kill me. That’s it, isn’t it?”

The thick rasp of his voice had me smiling.

“Don’t be such a prude.”

“If you knew what was running through my mind, you’d never accuse me of being a prude.”

My heart skipped another beat, and I found myself treading water again. “Do tell.”

“Never you mind.” Somehow, he’d drifted closer, edging me into a corner. “Now cut it out. There’s a huge difference between seeing Princess Anya half-undressed on a TV screen and seeing you naked.”

He seemed so thoroughly put out on my behalf about it that I could only stare at him in wonder.

“I fail to understand why.”

Dark brows threatened to meet in the middle. “First off, that wasn’t you. That was Anya, a character. She’s make-believe. You’re real.”

The flutters in my belly soared up into the vicinity of my chest. “That’s . . . sweet.”

As though he hadn’t heard me, Lucian continued on in lecture mode. “Secondly, I can’t reach through a screen and touch those pretty breasts.”

I bobbled, nearly going under. The flutters turned into a storm, and I had to grasp the edge of the pool to hang on. When I spoke, my voice had become far too breathy. “That implies there has to be touching involved to make it real.”

Something had changed—he wasn’t twitchy. He was resolved, closing in until there was barely a foot between us. Water glinted over the strong planes of his face, making those expressive, firm lips wet. I wanted to lick them, wrap myself around his strong, hard body, and hold on.

His eyes, pale as the glowing pool, pinned me to the spot. So much heat in them. Heat and need and a shadow of frustration, as though he didn’t want to want me. His voice lowered, thick as hot cream. “Em, if you’re naked in front of me, there’s going to be touching.”

Yes, please. Now would be good.

“Pretty presumptuous of you, honey pie.”

Lucian, the rat bastard, smiled, those hot eyes intent on my face. “Who said it had to be you I’m touching?”

“What?” I could barely think. His nearness was making me light headed.

“I’m not above taking matters into my own hand, if that’s the only option.”

I pictured him handling all that . . . girth. The bottom dropped out of me.

“Oh, well played—”

Water ripped, and he was there, big body surrounding me, his mouth inches from mine. “To be clear,” he murmured, “if you’re naked in front of me, I’d rather touch you.”

He was so close, vividly present. Deliciously beautiful. My lids lowered, my lips parting with the need to feel his. I wanted. I wanted.

Our legs brushed under the water, and a shiver danced up my thighs. Lucian grabbed the edge of the pool to brace himself, his arms bracketing me, which made it worse. Water droplets glinted on the dips and swells along his shoulders and arms, drawing my attention to the sheer strength of his body and how good it would feel to touch him.