Marcus sees

Suddenly, Izzy hears the back door slide open before she sees him. The sound cuts through the quiet hum of the pool filter, and her eyes snap open, her body stiffening on the lounger. She looks down at herself — bare, legs still fallen open, slick still cooling against her thighs — and a hot wave of shame crashes through her chest.

She scrambles, but there's nowhere to go. Her hands fly to cover herself, one palm pressing flat over her mound, the other arm crossing over her chest, but it's useless. There's too much of her to hide, and the evidence of what she's done is spread across the lounger and dripping down her skin. She can feel his gaze on her before she even looks up.

Marcus stands at the edge of the patio, holding a black camera bag. He blinks, taking in the scene — her naked body, the discarded bikini, the dark stain on the lounger. His expression doesn't shift into shock or disgust. He just looks at her, quiet, his eyes tracing the curve of her shoulder, the flush spreading across her chest, the way her hands try and fail to cover what he's already seen.

She swallows hard, her voice coming out thin and cracked. "I thought you went inside. I didn't hear you come back. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to—" She gestures vaguely at herself, at the lounger, at the mess, then gives up, her hands falling back to her lap. "This is so embarrassing."

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