He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to; his proximity was enough to make my insides dip and my mouth dry.

I had to take control of the situation. “You want a peek, don’t you?”

Over the quiet sounds of water lapping, I heard him swallow, surprise flickering in his gaze just before it lowered to my breasts. His voice dropped a register. “You gonna give me one?”

Lust punched through me, pure and hot. I loved sex—the dance leading up to it, the physicality of it, the release. But fame had changed sex for me. Men had started to expect a fantasy. They saw me as a virginal princess to be treated with reverence or a personal notch on their belt: I bagged Anya.

Lucian made it clear he didn’t see Anya when he looked at me. That in itself made me want to show him more.

The water was cool, but inside I burned as my hand slowly rose to the edge of my bikini top. Lucian’s gaze grew rapt, his lips parting on a shallow breath. God, that look. It had every inch of me drawing up tight. My breasts grew heavy, swelling with languid lust. I was utterly aware of him, of myself, as I traced the line of my bikini, flirting with the notion of pulling it to the side.

Lucian didn’t blink, didn’t move, but he seemed closer. My nipples stiffened, nudging against the thin fabric, begging to be seen by him. The tip of my finger hooked under the top, and I pulled it slowly to the side, feeling the drag.

Lucian grunted, low and protracted, as though the sound could make me go faster. The reaction in my body was a delicious clenching of my sex. I arched into that sound, my lids fluttering as I tugged the top farther over, stopping right at the edge of my nipple. And he jerked, the water sloshing.

“Em . . .” The plea came out in a thick rasp. “Baby . . .”

The muscles along his arms bunched as he gripped the lip of the pool, as though trying to hold himself back.

Oh, he wanted that peek. An ache built up inside me. My breasts had been seen by millions. But Lucian was right; that hadn’t been me. Here, now, this was me. This was him wanting to see me.

The tip of my finger traced a path of heat along the curve of my breast, back and forth. And he watched, a man starved. Licking my lips, I stopped. It seemed we both held our breaths. And then, with the slightest of tugs, the top slipped over the beaded tip of my nipple.

Lucian groaned, the sound almost animal. I arched my back in response, pulled by his need, my bared breast coming closer to the wall of his chest. I wanted to feel his skin on mine.

But he didn’t move. He gripped the edge tighter, his body working with heaving pants. “Fuck,” he whispered. His pale gaze flicked to mine, a furrow knitting between his brows. “I want a taste. Please. God. Please, Em.”

That he was undone nearly had me sliding under the water. But the need in his eyes made me whimper. Lids heavy with desire, I nodded, and he swallowed hard, his expression becoming fierce.

“Just a taste,” he said, as if to hold himself to that. I whimpered, and his hot gaze snared with mine. Something passed over his expression—determination, reassurance, I couldn’t tell; lust and need had scattered all rational thought. “Just a taste,” he said again.

“Take it,” I whispered, barely able to form the words.

Lucian let out a breath, his mouth moving closer. “Fuck. Em . . . lift that sweetness up for me.”

My breath left in a swoosh, everything squeezing with a lovely tightness. With a shaking hand, I cupped my breast and lifted it out of the water. Offering myself to him.

On a groan, he ducked his head. The hot, wet flat of his tongue dragged over my cold flesh. I let out a cry, a bolt of pleasure punching to my core.

He made a sound of pure hunger, his lips gently kissing the tip before he sucked it deep . . .

“Last one in the pool is a dirty fool!” Tina’s shout was followed closely by a massive splash as she launched herself into the water.

Lucian surged back, as though struck, then turned to block me as I hastily hauled my top back into place.

It was clear from the wide-eyed surprise on Tina’s face that she hadn’t noticed us. Just as clear from Brommy’s slow stroll to the pool edge and the grin on his face that he had.

Whatever the case, the mood was effectively doused. I caught Lucian’s eye, but his walls were up, and he shook his head with a nearly imperceptible motion. With an internal sigh, I swam over to a sheepish Tina and pretended nothing had happened.