pattern of her suit hinted and teased enough flesh to have him panting, but at the same time wasn’t too provocative. It showed just cut outs of flesh on her belly, side, and he assumed, the back.
Her surgery scar was visible, but it looked to be all healed up. Next time, tell her to get a Speedo suit or something. His ever-helpful brain provided him an image and he thought better of it. Picturing her full breasts incased in and pebbling against the spandex made his erection pulse. Focus . He stayed put in the shallow end and squinted up at her. "Do you need help getting in?" Shit was that his voice? Why the hell did he sound like it had been through a cement mixer?
She pursed her lips and shook her head. "No. I got it."
It had only been a few days, but he'd already come to recognize her game face. The one she made when she was concentrating really hard on something. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Just lower yourself onto the lounger, then you can slide in." Okay, that was a bit better, but not much. "I'll steady you from here." He moved to stand in front of the lounger closest to him.
She lowered herself, then gritted her teeth together as she swung her legs around. Derek reached out for her and wrapped his hands around her calves first to urge her closer to the edge. On skin to skin contact, she tensed and her dark eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. He felt the tight pull of awareness low in his belly. He'd barely touched her and he was raring to go. Why had he said yes when she'd called to ask him back? He could have said no and saved himself the torture.
When she was close enough, he fitted his hands around her waist and gritted his teeth. Damn, she was soft.
He growled a silent command to his dick. Stay in my fucking shorts .
Kisima's eyes widened and her pupils were dilated. Okay, that didn't help. He didn't need her as aware of him as he was of her. "You ready to work?"
She pursed her lips again, drawing his attention to the last place he should be focusing. It was going to be a hell of a day.
He dragged a floatation belt from the side of the pool and deliberately avoided her gaze as he wrapped it around her. He took her through the stretches. Nice and easy. She worked without complaint, just that determination and grit he'd come to expect from her by now. She worked without a word either.
She did everything he asked, but this was fucking brutal. It was the worse kind of chore. He'd take draining a septic tank to this. They needed to work together on this, otherwise neither of them would get the benefit out of it.
Eventually he had to stop her. "You know, this will all be a little easier if you relax. Maybe have some fun."
She raised a delicately arched eyebrow. "Fun? This isn't my idea of fun . A night out on the town with her best friend, Leah, that's my idea of fun. Taking a corner at nearly two hundred miles an hour, that is fun. Hell, I'll even take a sedate afternoon on the beach with a good book. This , pushing my muscles until they hurt, this is not fun. I can think of so many other things I can think of that are more fun."
Derek's lips twitched. It was the most she'd spoken to him all day. "Okay, I hear you. This isn't fun. I'm asking you to do things that hurt. But I promise, it'll take your mind off of it if we at least act like we can be friendly."
She glowered at him as he moved her arm through exercises. "Is this from the same guy who called me a pampered princess who needed to get over herself."
Well, fuck . "I'm sorry about that. I was dealing with my own shit and after looking at your file it pissed me off that you weren't further along. Now that I've worked with you, I can see it's not because you're not working hard. Your last physical therapist didn't have a fucking clue. It ticked me off when I saw you. But now I've seen how you'll push yourself past the point where you should. You're not in this position because you're lazy or you’re pampered."
She sniffed. "Oh,
Her surgery scar was visible, but it looked to be all healed up. Next time, tell her to get a Speedo suit or something. His ever-helpful brain provided him an image and he thought better of it. Picturing her full breasts incased in and pebbling against the spandex made his erection pulse. Focus . He stayed put in the shallow end and squinted up at her. "Do you need help getting in?" Shit was that his voice? Why the hell did he sound like it had been through a cement mixer?
She pursed her lips and shook her head. "No. I got it."
It had only been a few days, but he'd already come to recognize her game face. The one she made when she was concentrating really hard on something. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Just lower yourself onto the lounger, then you can slide in." Okay, that was a bit better, but not much. "I'll steady you from here." He moved to stand in front of the lounger closest to him.
She lowered herself, then gritted her teeth together as she swung her legs around. Derek reached out for her and wrapped his hands around her calves first to urge her closer to the edge. On skin to skin contact, she tensed and her dark eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. He felt the tight pull of awareness low in his belly. He'd barely touched her and he was raring to go. Why had he said yes when she'd called to ask him back? He could have said no and saved himself the torture.
When she was close enough, he fitted his hands around her waist and gritted his teeth. Damn, she was soft.
He growled a silent command to his dick. Stay in my fucking shorts .
Kisima's eyes widened and her pupils were dilated. Okay, that didn't help. He didn't need her as aware of him as he was of her. "You ready to work?"
She pursed her lips again, drawing his attention to the last place he should be focusing. It was going to be a hell of a day.
He dragged a floatation belt from the side of the pool and deliberately avoided her gaze as he wrapped it around her. He took her through the stretches. Nice and easy. She worked without complaint, just that determination and grit he'd come to expect from her by now. She worked without a word either.
She did everything he asked, but this was fucking brutal. It was the worse kind of chore. He'd take draining a septic tank to this. They needed to work together on this, otherwise neither of them would get the benefit out of it.
Eventually he had to stop her. "You know, this will all be a little easier if you relax. Maybe have some fun."
She raised a delicately arched eyebrow. "Fun? This isn't my idea of fun . A night out on the town with her best friend, Leah, that's my idea of fun. Taking a corner at nearly two hundred miles an hour, that is fun. Hell, I'll even take a sedate afternoon on the beach with a good book. This , pushing my muscles until they hurt, this is not fun. I can think of so many other things I can think of that are more fun."
Derek's lips twitched. It was the most she'd spoken to him all day. "Okay, I hear you. This isn't fun. I'm asking you to do things that hurt. But I promise, it'll take your mind off of it if we at least act like we can be friendly."
She glowered at him as he moved her arm through exercises. "Is this from the same guy who called me a pampered princess who needed to get over herself."
Well, fuck . "I'm sorry about that. I was dealing with my own shit and after looking at your file it pissed me off that you weren't further along. Now that I've worked with you, I can see it's not because you're not working hard. Your last physical therapist didn't have a fucking clue. It ticked me off when I saw you. But now I've seen how you'll push yourself past the point where you should. You're not in this position because you're lazy or you’re pampered."
She sniffed. "Oh,
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