Page 58 of The Price of Success
The lift whisked them upwards. From the corner of her eye she saw him turn his phone off and shove it into his pocket.
The doors opened onto a space that was so beautiful Sasha couldnât speak for several seconds. In the soft breeze potted palm trees swayed. Strategically placed lights gave the space an exotic but intimate feel that just begged to be enjoyed. Several feet away an endless, boomerang shaped infinity pool poised over the tip of the hotelâs tower glimmered blue and silver.
Then she noticed what was missing. âItâs empty.â There wasnât a single soul on the sixtieth-floor skydeck.
âSÃ.â
The way he responded had her turning to face him.
âYou had something to do with it?â
A simple nod.
âWhy?â
His shook his head in disbelief. âThatâs the hundredth question youâve asked since I knocked on your door. I didnât want your swim to be interrupted.â
She kicked away her slippers, her temperature rising another notch when his gaze dropped to her bare feet. âThis pool is three times the size of an Olympic pool. Itâs hardly cramped.â
His gaze turned molten. âI wanted privacy.â He released the last button on his shirt and it fell open to reveal a golden washboard torso.
Heat piled on. Beneath the Lycra bikini, her nipples tightened, and her stomach muscles quivered with a need so strong she could barely breathe. âI see. Will you snarl at me if I ask why?â
âYes,â he snarled.
Striding to her, he drew the hem of her kaftan over her head and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he took her hair tie, raked his fingers through the strands and secured her hair on top of her head.
Fresh waves of desire threatened to drown her. âMarco â¦â
âHow many laps do you need to be less tense?â
âTwâtwenty.â She couldnât drag her eyes from the beauty of his face, from the sensual, inviting curve of his mouth.
âTwenty laps it is, then.â He shrugged off his shirt, then released his belt.
Her eyes widened. âWhat are you doing?â
âWhat does it look like?â
âUrn â¦â
Without warning he leaned forward and sniffed the skin between her neck and shoulder. âYouâre covered in eau de Sleazy Rock Star. I smell of cloying Italian perfume. What say we wash the scent of other people off our skin, and then weâll talk, sÃ?
; âMarco â¦â
He swore under his breath. âGo, Sasha. I need to cool off, or Dios help me, I wonât be responsible for my actions.â
She went, with the heaviness of his hot gaze scorching her skin.
Pausing at one end of the pool, she stretched her arms over her head. At his sharp intake of breath, she let a sensual smile curve her lips.
The water was a welcome but temporary relief from the sensations arcing between them. He dived in after her a second later, quickly caught up with her and matched her stroke for stroke. When she swam faster, to escape the frenzied need clawing inside, he kept up with her.
His presence made every stroke of water against her skin feel like a caress. At the last lap he increased his pace and heaved himself out of the water. She clung to the side, her lungs heaving, and watched the play of water on his magnificent body as he returned to the poolside.
âOut,â he commanded tersely, his hand holding out a towel like a bull-baiting matador.