Damien
My eyes trailed Serena as she appeared in a swimsuit that almost made my jaw drop if I didn't catch myself in time.
She had a figure to die for, and the way she swayed her hips as she walked into frame was the sexiest thing I'd ever witnessed.
She didn't turn to meet my gaze, but I could tell that she could feel the intensity of my stare.
I glanced down at my already straining erection and cursed under my breath.
Why did she have such an effect on me? Why is it that every time she was near, I couldn't think straight?
Not to mention how she's a pain in the ass as well. How does one deal with this many emotions at once?
My eyes took in the seductive way the fabric hugged her frame.
The swimsuit she wore was a deep emerald green that looked sinful against her sun-kissed skin.
It wasn't the kind that screamed for attention, but it didn't need to. With the way her body was evenly sculpted, it wasn't necessary.
The one-piece dipped low in the front, revealing a teasing curve of cleavage, the fabric held together by a thin gold ring right at the center of her chest.
The material shimmered faintly under the sunlight, catching glints of gold every time she moved, like it had been made intentionally to seduce.
The back was cut daringly low, exposing the smooth arch of her spine, and two thin straps crisscrossed just above her hips before tying neatly in a bow.
The fit was merciless. I tightened my jaw, trying to sink the feeling of jealousy that was slowly clouding my mind.
There was no fucking way that I was jealous of a fucking swimwear or whatever in the tarnation this set-up was.
The subtle tightness outlined every graceful dip of her waist and the tempting curve of her ass. The high-cut sides elongated her legs, giving her that effortless kind of confidence only a woman who knew her worth could carry.
Her hair was loose, falling in lazy waves down her back, a few strands sticking slightly to the dampness of her neck.
She'd thrown on a sheer white cover-up at first, but it hung open now, fluttering behind her as she walked.
The contrast between the delicate fabric and the bold green beneath made her look like a sin dressed in innocence or whatever the fuck Greek philosophers usually use.
When she reached the pool's edge and bent slightly to test the water, the movement was almost too much, the subtle sway of her hips, the way the light kissed her thighs.
She looked like she belonged there, like the water had been waiting just for her.
And for one brief, unguarded second, I forgot everything else—the games, the tension, the deal—and all I could think about was how beautiful she looked and how much trouble that beauty would bring me.
"You should join me in the pool, Damien." Her sudden declaration broke through the barrier of my attention.
"Why should I do that?"
"Because it'll be fun," she said, smiling like a child inviting their parents to try something they clearly shouldn't be allowed to have.
"And what's your definition of fun, Serena?"
I didn't mean to, but I loved the way her name tumbled out of my mouth, it felt disgustingly intimate.
"My definition of fun is everything Damien doesn't think is fun."
I couldn't hold back a smirk. From where I sat, her torso was fully in my view, and I couldn't help but ease myself into the feeling that taunting her brought me.
"What? You think I do not enjoy swimming?"
"I think…," she said, pointing to where I was, "that you're a coward."
I almost burst out laughing, but I couldn't let her see that she had that much power.
"You know me—or rather, you should have an idea of the qualities that I possess, and a coward is definitely not on the list. You should be in the pool, swimming and minding your business, but yet here you are.
You've stood there for almost thirty minutes. I'm certain that if you do not enter soon, I'd have a frozen monument of the Great Serena Blackwood in front of my pool, and while I wouldn't mind a few more decorations, I do not stay here often enough to appreciate the beauty your structure would bring."
She sneered at me in childish fashion, which only made her look more adorable.
Pull yourself together, you stupid fuck!
For once, I listened to the voices inside my head, but I still didn't take my eyes off Serena.
"Well then, do not say later that I'm not a fun sport," she said, dragging down the scarf that dangled over her frame.
"When have I said such a thing?"
She turned her head and faced the pool without giving me an answer.
"Are you scared of it? Don't worry, I can assure you there are no monsters waiting for you at the edge."
She didn't turn back. She stared at the pool as if debating whether or not it was a good idea to begin with.
After what seemed like ages, she inched closer to the edge of the pool.
She dipped a toe in first, flinching slightly at the coolness, then smiled to herself—whatever that was.
Then she descended the steps with slow, deliberate grace; it felt like the hesitant Serena I saw before had completely disappeared.
First her calves, then her thighs, then the curve of her hips disappearing beneath the surface.
The emerald fabric clung tighter to her frame as it met the water, outlining every shape of her body and triggering images that shouldn't be in my mind.
She leaned forward, letting her body sink fully in, her hair fanning out behind her like strands of liquid bronze.
When she surfaced, water cascaded down her shoulders, and for a moment, everything around her; sound, air, time, seemed to still. She looked ethereal, like temptation made flesh.
I groaned. She was slowly turning me into a poet. The Great Damien Romano, a fucking poet.