one another for a beat and so much passes between us. It all becomes too much, so I take Ava’s hand, and I turn, refusing to look back at him. I know if I do, I’ll never be able to leave. I’ll fall back into old habits, and I can’t let that happen.
That swimming lesson Baz promised Ava happens a lot sooner than I’m prepared for. I sit on one of the loungers on his balcony and watch as he tries to teach Ava how to swim. For the first thirty minutes, I sit on the edge of my seat, a nervous wreck. It isn’t that I don’t trust Baz. It is just that I don’t want anything to happen to Ava. But much to my surprise, he’s been patient and extremely gentle, guiding her on how to pump and kick to stay afloat.
My laptop is warm on my lap, as my gaze drifts from Baz to Ava, when I’m supposed to be working. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I force myself to dig deep and let the words flow, but as much as I try, they don’t come. I worry that signing that publishing agreement was premature. Don’t people usually do this when they already have a body of work written? I have nothing but my article. This…this is on a whole other level.
“Can you swim with us?” I jolt at the sound of Ava’s little voice. She’s standing next to me, wearing a pleading look in her eyes. I glance down at my clothes and the pool. I didn’t bring a swimsuit or a change of clothes, figuring I’d spend the day watching Ava swim and working.
“I don’t know. I don’t have any extra clothes.”
“Oh, come on!” She points at the water. “It’s so warm.”
I glance at Baz just as he slips under the water. He raises effortlessly a few seconds later, water rolling from his tan skin, and when he rakes a hand through his soaked hair, slicking it back, my core clenches at the way the muscles in his arms bunch and cord.
“You can borrow my clothes if your clothes get too wet,” he offers, knowing exactly why that’s a bad idea. But as I glance back at Ava and the hopeful look on her face, I heave a sigh, giving in. I strip out of my shirt, staying in my tank top, beyond grateful that I chose a plain bra and underwear this morning. I can’t imagine wearing a thong and getting into a pool with a nine-year-old is appropriate. I feel Baz’s heated gaze on my skin as I take Ava’s hand, guiding her back into the water with me. He’s obviously a good teacher because, as soon as we get in, she breaks away from my hold, showing me what she can do on her own.
Still nervous, I stay near her. I also do it, so I don’t have to look at Baz. Too many memories are in this pool and the Jacuzzi next to it. Flashes of his hands on my skin, his tongue burning a trail of fire across my flesh, his mouth on mine, making me come—all of it appears in sporadic flashes that suddenly have my body feeling overheated.
Ignoring him works out as long as he isn’t part of our conversation, but as soon as Ava includes him, I sneak a glance at him and stifle a groan. He’s propped up against the ledge of the pool, half his body submerged, leaving the upper half on display. His arms are propped on the ledge on either side of him, making him look confidently lazy. He looks incredibly sexy like this. And he doesn’t even have to try. It’s just from him sitting in a fucking pool. Droplets of water roll down his chest, but it’s the look in his eyes as he stares at me that causes my stomach to fill with butterflies. My heart gallops, and I quickly look away, trying to pretend he didn’t just catch me checking him out.
The sexual tension between us only gets worse the longer we’re in the pool. I’m all too glad when Ava announces she’s tired. I damn near hop out of the water with her and rush inside. I brought a bag for her with a change of clothes and hair products to fix her hair. Baz offers us the guest bathroom, where I let Ava shower, then wait for her to dress, so I can fix her hair.
By the