by Monroe, Max
Because I know, when it comes to the wild blonde with the long legs and blue eyes full of trouble that I know nothing else about, opportunity has a timeline.
It’s now or never.
Lena
When Pippa and I finally make it down to the pool, our gang of fashion and design school misfits has already found their chairs near the water, are well into their second sangria, and are deep in discussion about something ridiculous, I can tell.
“I don’t know,” Sophie says and takes a hearty sip of her wine. “Haven’t you heard Once you pop, you just can’t stop?”
Frederick nods. “Well, that’s how I think of Brazilian-cut bathing suits and my ass.”
They both dissolve into fits of laughter and then shade their eyes to look up at us as we come to a stop next to their chairs.
“Well, well,” Frederick remarks immediately to Pippa. “If it isn’t Harry Houdini himself.”
“What?” Pippa questions with a laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“Your escape act last night!” Sophie shrieks. “One minute you were there, and the next you were gone! I’m surprised you’re even accomplishing basic human functions today.” She shifts her pink-lens-sunglass-covered eyes to me and grimaces. “Sorry, by the way.”
I wave a hand and shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. If you saved me a chair, all is forgiven.”
Sophie nods enthusiastically while sucking back another slug of sangria and points to the chair on the other side of Frederick. He speaks for her since her mouth is full. “We saved you both one. Just move the towels.”
I scuttle around their chairs and do as they say, arranging my area and settling into the chaise with a deep sigh.
Yes. Sunshine feels good.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and stretch out, while Pip gets her chair turned in the right direction next to me.
“What are you guys talking about?” she asks as the legs of her lounger scrape across the concrete.
“We were just discussing bathing suits with low to no ass coverage,” Sophie explains. “Yay or nay, kind of thing. I think if you have the ass, you let the cheeks out.”
Pippa snorts. “There is no bloody way my pasty white arse is ever seeing the sun. I refuse to subject anyone to that kind of torture.”
I crack one eye open to look at them as Frederick waves a hand in the air. “Ladies, beauty is subjective. Which means, some people will love Pip’s pasty ass. Others will prefer more of a tanned ass. And some don’t want to see any ass at all.”
“So, what are you trying to say?” I quirk a brow, and he smirks.
“I’m saying that if you want to go buns out, then fucking do it, girlfriend. Who gives a fuck about the people who don’t want to see it?”
Pip snorts again. “Says the man in the bright-orange Speedo.”
“I’ll have you know this is Gucci, darling. And I look fucking fabulous.”
He does. Frederick is one of those rare breeds of gay men who can pull off any fashion style and do it with class. He’s the kind of guy who could bring MC Hammer pants back into fashion and people would really buy into it.
“Speaking of arses,” Pippa says and flashes a knowing look at me. “I saw one last night. A tight one that had a cock the size of my bloody arm to go with it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Frederick questions and sits up in his chair. “You saw a big cock last night, and you didn’t come find me?”
“Chill out,” I say and pull my sunglasses over my eyes. “Nothing happened. Pip didn’t see anything, and neither did I.” I turn my attention to Pip directly and scowl. “We’ve already gone over this.”
“If it weren’t for me, they for sure would’ve shagged,” Pip says with a waggle of her eyebrows.
I scoff and then almost undoubtedly lie. “No, we wouldn’t have.”
We would have. Probably more than once.
Frederick smirks. “So, let me get this straight. The girl who declared she was on some kind of man ban when she arrived in Milan has officially dropped the ban and is now accepting penis?”
“I’m not accepting penis, as you put it, you lunatic.” I laugh. “I gave myself one night, and nothing happened, so it’s back to reality.”
He laughs hard, a dramatic hand clutched to his chest as he doubles over. “Yeah. Sure, Lena. And I’ve decided I want to start eating pussy.”
I roll my eyes behind my lenses when a distinctly manly throat clears behind me. The three banditos can their laughter immediately, and I sit up with a jolt.
“Excuse me, signorina,” Lorenzo, the guy who helped me get Pippa upstairs last night, says politely. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have something of importance for you.”
“Of course,” I murmur softly as he holds out a silver tray with a piece of folded paper on it toward me.
I grab the slip and unfold it, and he dismisses himself regally—with no indication that he just overheard us in the middle of a discussion about eating pussy and asses. God.
Pippa, Sophie, and Frederick watch me closely as I read the note, scribbled in sure, deliberate strokes.
Lena,
I’m sorry our night ended so abruptly yesterday, and I would love to spend more time with you.
I’m sure you’re busy, as I am unfortunately all day today, but I’d be honored if you’d meet me in the lobby of our hotel at 11 tonight.
T
Holy hell. Everything tingles as I finish reading the note and scan the area for the man who wrote it.
It’s beyond me how he knew where to find me, but the buzz of excitement makes me hopeful that I’ll find him nearby.
I don’t, of course. At least, not immediately, but by the time I get done looking, three sets of eyes are watching me with extreme deliberation.
“Well,” Frederick finally says, bugging out his eyes. “What does it say?”
I shake my head, but my mouth—curled into what I’m sure is an exaggerated smile—tells a whole story for me.
“Your silence is saying everything right now, honey,” Sophie chimes in, and I flip her the bird.
She giggles and Pippa snorts.
I shrug. “So, maybe I should drop the ban for one more night.”
Pippa hoots and Frederick fans himself, while Sophie’s face spreads into a smile.
I laugh briefly and settle back into my chair, but thankfully, when my eyes fall closed again, the other three get the point and start to talk about something else.
Pip’s penchant for theft when boozed.
Frederick’s disdain for ankle tattoos.
Sophie’s internship with a popular French designer.
How many sangrias they think they can consume before five o’clock.
Their chatter is all around me, but behind my closed eyes, my mind is on one thing only.
Business suit, serious face, rarely smiles but has the best fucking smile I’ve ever seen. The mysterious Theo.
I can’t fucking wait for tonight.
Theo
At five minutes to eleven, I’m in the lobby, waiting on a woman. It’s something I’ve never done in one of our hotels—hell, who am I kidding? It’s something I’ve never done, period.
Carey is a smartass, among many other things, but he’s also a truth-teller. I schedule women into my life like meetings so I don’t have to wonder about wasted time.
Wasted nights, wasted months—even wasted years—on a relationship that will end anyway and leave me nothing to show for it but unconquered progress in my business and, if I’m really lucky, a broken heart.
Even though I sound like it now, I wouldn’t qualify myself as a cynic. I believe in love and happily-ever-afters, and I respect the level of commitment it takes to choose someone you’re willing to work hard to stay with for the rest of your life.
True love isn’t foreign to me; my parents, my friends, even Carey—they’ve found the real deal. I guess I always just figured there would be time for that later.
After the m
erger of Cruz Nightlife and Cruz Resorts, after the tenth club, after we hit a billion-dollar profit margin, after, after, after.
But Lena…
Something about her makes me want to try—makes me want to see what might happen if I don’t wait anymore.
The irony is that by not waiting on being open to possibility, I’m waiting in my lobby.
I shake my head slightly and laugh to myself.
Fucking hell.
The staff watches me closely, ready to anticipate my signal to do something in a hurry. Because that is the norm—on any other night, with any other woman, I’d be spending this time managing and checking boxes on a task list. I’d use every second of these five-plus minutes assessing and assigning and working.
But not tonight. Tonight, I sit in the anticipation deliberately. I have one agenda and one agenda only. And if she doesn’t show up, there’ll be plenty of time to multitask later.
I laugh to myself again and take a deep breath, just in time for the elevator to ding its arrival.
I turn to face it as the doors open, and all the air in the lobby sticks in my chest.
Visions of blond hair and blue eyes and long, luscious legs dance in my head, and I have to swallow hard against how invested I’ve let myself become.
Frankly, if this level of pitifulness is anything to go by, it’s probably good I never let myself get involved before now.
When the silver doors reveal an elderly couple rather than Lena, my breath leaves in a rush, and I glance down at my watch.
At two minutes past eleven, she’s not exactly late, but still, I can’t help but—
“Theo?” a voice I know well says from behind me, something light tapping on my shoulder.
I spin almost comically fast, and Lena has to lean back a little to avoid getting taken out by one of my elbows.
“Lena,” I say with a smile, running my eyes down the length of her. Her hair is wild, and her tiny pink-and-navy floral dress clings to her body like a glove. “Sorry.” I laugh. “I was expecting you to come off the elevator.”
She shrugs. “I took the stairs.”
I smile. I can’t help it.
It’s like I’ve turned into a completely different human being—one with an enthusiastic facial tic.
Done overthinking, I grab Lena’s hand and lead her to the concierge desk to grab the bottle of champagne I left there earlier, hopeful of this outcome.
Lena laughs as Giovanni hands me the ice bucket and bottle over the counter as if it appeared out of nowhere, and she whispers directly into my ear, “I didn’t know tonight included a magic show. I would’ve paid admission.”
At the feel of her lips on my skin—even just the skim of them against my ear—everything from last night comes flooding back in a rush.
The arousal, the connection, the inexplicable need to be as close to her as possible.
Half-planned but also half-cocked, I lead Lena in a silent rush to our final destination—the pool deck.
The area is quiet and private now that it’s closed to guests because of the late hour, and we are the only two out here.
I’m thrilled to find it’s fucking perfect.
Side by side, we sit on a lounge chair, taking sips of champagne from the now-open bottle.
Besides the lights coming from the pool, the moonlight is our only companion in the darkness. Its soft, shimmering glow holds another purpose; it gives us direction in what would otherwise be a maze of impenetrable blackness. And, as an added bonus, it makes the delicate lines of her beautiful face and body look downright breathtaking.
“I’m sorry I left you last night. I wouldn’t have if I’d had any other option,” I say into the night.
She smiles; I can just see the hint of it in the reflection of the aqua light of the pool. “You don’t have to apologize. You went above and beyond as it is. I never would have helped some stranger take care of their friend during a Miss Hannigan impression.”
I laugh. “Did you just make a reference to Annie?”
She nods, choking a little on the champagne. She lifts a quick hand to her mouth and giggles. “I have a friend back home who’s an expert obscure-reference maker. I’ve picked up a thing or two from her.”
“A friend from home, huh? Where is home?”
I search the ripples of sparkle in her eyes while I wait for an answer, her top teeth chewing intently on the flesh of her pink bottom lip.
“Lena?” I prompt when she doesn’t come out with one.
But she doesn’t respond. Instead, her worried lips turn into a mischievous smile. “You know what this night is perfect for, Theo?” she asks as she sets down her glass on the concrete beside her feet.
I watch her closely, wondering what curve ball she could possibly throw at me next. “What’s that?”
She grins and stands to her feet, sliding her dress up and over her head to reveal miles of silky, tanned skin and a matching pale-pink lace bra and panty set. “A midnight swim.”
I swallow hard, gripping the stem of my own glass and trying to focus my eyes on any one thing. Her body is sensory overload between her perky, peaked breasts and the smooth, bare skin I can see through the lace of her thong. Dumbfounded, I can only provide a simple fact in response. “It’s eleven thirty.”
Lena smiles, a seductive, life-altering movement of the corners of her mouth, and reaches behind herself to unhook the clasp on her bra. The fabric’s hold breaks free, and her breasts spill out into the moonlight as she slides the straps down her arms.
I swear to God, my brain short-circuits for a good twenty seconds.
One minute, we are having a conversation, and the next, this insanely beautiful woman is removing her clothes.
She is literally taking her clothes off.
I shake my head to clear it. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She winks and slides her panties off, kicking them toward her discarded dress and bra. “Going for a swim, obviously.”
I swallow hard, my gaze a willing and determined combatant as I fight to hold her eyes with my own. “Do you always swim naked?”
She laughs softly. “Not always.” I glance down briefly as she stands boldly before me. I’ve never seen a woman with the kind of confidence she has.
Unbashful, unapologetic, she is what she is.
And goddamn, she’s magnificent.
I watch closely as she wanders her way over to the pool, dips a delicate toe into the water, and then turns back to me with a smirk. “You don’t know about the rules of an almost-midnight swim?”
I smirk; I can’t help it. She’s so intelligent—so skilled in the volley of good banter—and yet she’s also unequivocally sexy. My mind reels at the evidence that such a combination really exists. I glance briefly at the perfect apex between her toned thighs, and my cock twitches behind my zipper. With purpose, I move my eyes back to hers and admit, “Apparently, I am not well versed in the almost-midnight swim rules.”
“Well…” Her smile is slow and seductive. “Any swimming in the vicinity of midnight must occur without clothes.”
“Is that so?” I ask, and she nods playfully.
“Yes. It’s listed as an addendum to the Ten Commandments.”
I laugh out loud. “Really?”
“Yes. The new, new testament.”
Long legs, bare curves, creamy skin, the perkiest tits I’ve ever seen in my life, and a brain to go with it. The lovely Lena has me feeling completely and totally off-kilter.
“So, are you just going to stand there staring at my tits, or are you going to join me?” she challenges, moving slowly from the poolside back over to me. I stand as she gets close, and I laugh.
“You want me to skinny-dip with you?”
“Another almost-midnight swim rule,” she says softly, standing up on her tippy-toes to press a soft, lush kiss to my lips. “You can’t skinny-dip by yourself. It’s forbidden.”
“Forbidden?” I ask, and she nods in confi
rmation. I shrug then, allowing myself the blood-pounding pleasure of putting my hands on her bare hips. She gasps quietly, her lips parting gently.
“I guess that leaves us with no choice.” With a small lean, I touch my mouth to hers, smirking there, right against it, as I pull her body tight to my own.
She stares up at me with those big blue eyes of hers, a warm puff of air swirling and switching between her mouth and mine.
“I can tell you’re a man who follows the rules,” she whispers. “A man who lives by a schedule and doesn’t veer.”
I nod just one succinct time.
She nibbles on my bottom lip with her teeth. “Well then, c’mon, Mr. Serious. Let’s have some fun.”
Lena presses one long, slow, delicious-fucking-kiss to my lips, takes two steps toward the pool and dives right in.
Gloriously-fucking-naked.
When she breaks the surface and her eyes lock with mine, I’m already out of my shoes and pants and shirt and sliding my boxer briefs down my legs.
She grins a wicked little smile toward me, and I don’t miss the lengthy perusal of everything below my waist.
Fuck. This woman is wild.
Skinny-dipping in one of your own damn resorts in the middle of the fucking night? This is a bad idea, man, my brain taunts.
But when I come to the surface and spot Lena in the shallow end, her arms resting on the edge of the pool and her breasts just barely peeking above the surface of the water, every vestige of rational thought flies out the damn window.
For once, I don’t want to plan this out. I don’t want to overthink it or pick it apart or ruin it with a list of dos and don’ts.
I duck under the surface and open my eyes, swim toward her, and surface right there, with only inches between us. Her intake of breath is sharp as I pull her toward me and wrap her bare thighs around my waist.
“What are the other almost-midnight swim rules?” I whisper, squeezing her ass with the tips of my fingers.
“If you touch it, you kiss it.”
I quirk a brow. “Is that right?”
