Lake Glass

The suite was absurdly beautiful. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a huge living area, all in beige and blue and light wood, plus a balcony larger than my entire apartment, overlooking the magnificent lake, which glistened like melted silver in the afternoon sun.

I put down my bag, stepped outside, and stretched. My thoughts were still on the drive, on Alexander's voice, his body language, his looks. He was different. Still in control. Still—but there was a heat beneath the surface, as if I had ignited something in him that he couldn't extinguish.

Under the parasol were two white wicker chairs, between them a champagne cooler with an expensive-looking bottle inside. I didn't pay any attention to them. The lake looked more tempting. Inviting.

“Shall we go for a swim?” I called back into the room, half jokingly. Just like that.

“Okay.”

His voice came from the next room. Clear. Unambiguous. I flinched inwardly – did he think I was serious? Well, okay, why not?

“Do we have bathrobes?” I asked. But I figured they were probably standard in a hotel like this.

His voice sounded amused: “Are you wearing anything underneath this time?”

“I'm on it,” I replied. I rummaged through my weekender. Found my bikini. Should I really wear it? No.

Next, I found the black lace bodysuit, which was more suitable for the bed than the water. Besides, it was too hot; the water would evaporate before I could even swim. I decided on my low-cut black halter top and matching bikini bottoms, which revealed more than they covered. Over that, I threw on a loose linen shirt.

When I came out of my room, he was already standing there ready – barefoot, tanned, in dark swimming trunks.

I stopped. Looked at him. From head to toe and back again. Until my eyes lingered on his midriff.

Fuck.

He looked so much better than a CEO was allowed to look. It was unfair. Slim, toned, not overdone – just masculine... present.

That look he gave me when our eyes met! As if he knew exactly what was going through my head. And he wasn't staring at my breasts. That made it even more dangerous.

“You look surprised,” he teased, “I thought you were prepared. See, sun—it shouldn't really be a surprise that I'm wearing swimwear.”

“I was,” I replied, “just not for this.”

I made a gesture in his general direction that encompassed everything. Him, the suite, the wide bed in his bedroom beckoning through the open door.

He won this round. It's a tie.