Drowning in the Deep End

Next month's executive yacht retreat is in Hawaii. I can't afford to be the one who can't swim if I want that director promotion.

Vincent's cousin Daniel used to be a college swim champ, and he agreed to teach me at his place.

Right before I left, Vincent shoved a new swimsuit into my hands. "Wear this. I want you looking hot."

I argued. He pushed. In the end I was stuck in a scarlet string bikini—more string than bikini.

It was basically dental floss: cords biting into my hips, my ass half out, and the top so useless my breasts kept threatening to slip free every time I moved.

Vincent's eyes went wide as he circled me, then suddenly cracked his palm hard across my exposed ass cheek, grinning like an idiot. "Jesus Christ. You look fucking incredible. Daniel's gonna be drooling."

I shoved his hand away, glaring. "So you're fine with another man getting an eyeful of your wife?"

He just laughed.

After throwing on a cover-up, I drove to Daniel's place alone.

The housekeeper led me through to the backyard where an obscenely large infinity pool stretched out under the sun.

Daniel was already in the water. Nothing but tight black trunks hugging his body, water streaming down his broad chest and cut abs. Droplets traced the V of his hips before disappearing into the bulge straining against the fabric.

My throat went dry. I swallowed hard.

"Get over here." Daniel turned in the water, his eyes raking over me without even pretending to be polite. "Vincent already filled me in. Since we're practically family, I'll make sure to give you very... thorough... personal attention."

The way he drew out those words made heat crawl up my neck.

I walked to the edge, hesitating before untying my cover-up.

When I dropped it, Daniel's expression changed instantly. His gaze locked onto my breasts threatening to spill out, then dragged down to where the strings bit into my hips and the tiny triangle of fabric barely covering me between my legs.

The bottoms were so tight I could feel everything outlined. Daniel stared at exactly that spot, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip slowly.

"Get in the water."

His voice had gone rough.

I climbed down the ladder carefully. He swam right up behind me, one large hand pressing against my lower back, skin to skin.

"Feel the water. Arms out, legs loose. Take a breath and try floating face-down."

I tried to follow his instructions but the closeness made it impossible to focus. I choked on water immediately, body flailing.

Daniel made an impatient sound. "Your legs are locked up. We need to start with treading water—get the leg motion down first."

He moved in front of me, and suddenly his hands were underwater, gripping my upper thighs.

When he adjusted my position, his rough thumbs pressed against the sensitive skin right where my bikini bottoms ended—rubbing, stroking. My entire body went rigid.

"Follow my hands." His voice was low, commanding.

Then without warning, he forced my legs apart, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my inner thighs. "That's it. Spread them. Wide. Feel how the water resists."

Having my legs pried open underwater by another man made panic spike through me.

I tensed, words tumbling out. "Daniel, this feels—you're Vincent's cousin. Your hands are all over me underwater and it's—"

He cut me off with a short laugh, not loosening his grip at all. "Relax. I'm doing Vincent a favor here. You think other students get this kind of hands-on training? They pay thousands and never get me physically adjusting their legs like this."

That made sense. It was just instruction. I forced myself to breathe.

Under his control, I tried to mimic the kicking motion he was guiding me through.

But this was the first time since my wedding that a man's hands had been this deep between my thighs.

Even through the thin fabric, I could feel how hot his palms were. Something low in my belly clenched.

My concentration shattered. I jerked too hard, lost my balance completely, and crashed forward into him.

Daniel caught me by the waist—the momentum shoving me against his bare chest. His hand slid, fingers slipping under the edge of my bikini bottom, rough skin dragging against me. The water pressure combined with his touch made every nerve ending light up. Shame burned through me.

He pulled his hand back, staring at my chest rising and falling. "You're hopeless. At this rate you could practice for a year and still drown."

Panic hit me. "Then what do I do? I have to be ready for that retreat next month. My promotion depends on it."

Daniel studied me, his gaze traveling slowly down my body.

"There's one way that works fast. Wrap your legs around my waist. I'll tread water carrying you—you'll feel the rhythm, figure out the buoyancy. You'll pick it up quick."

My stomach dropped. Wrapping my bare legs around him, pressed that close—that crossed a line. Vincent would be furious if he knew.

"No. That's too... intimate. You're family. Vincent would never be okay with that."

Without a word, Daniel swam to the edge, grabbed his phone, and called Vincent. On speaker.

"Hey Vincent. Evelyn's not getting it. I need her to wrap her legs around my waist while I tread water so she can feel the motion. That cool with you?"

I held my breath.

Vincent laughed on the other end. Laughed. "Man, I trust you. Do whatever it takes to teach her. If she needs to hang onto you like that, who cares?"

He hung up.

Something ugly twisted in my chest. My own husband just gave another man permission to have me wrapped around him half-naked. If Vincent didn't give a shit about boundaries, why should I?

Fuck it.

I pushed off the wall, wrapped my legs around Daniel's waist, and deliberately squeezed tight, pressing my hips flush against him.

The second our bodies met, I gasped.

Through the thin layer of our suits, something thick and rock-hard pressed directly against me. Right there. Right between my legs where I was most sensitive.

The pressure was staggering. Vincent had been useless in bed for months—I'd forgotten what it felt like to be up against something that hard, that big.

And Daniel was huge. Even through fabric I could feel how thick he was, how he'd split me open.

Instinctively, I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself.

Daniel didn't hesitate. His hands went underwater and grabbed my ass—rough, possessive—squeezing the flesh spilling out of my bikini and yanking me down harder against him.

Then he started treading water. His powerful legs kicked in a steady rhythm, and every thrust upward made his hips surge against mine.

The friction was unbearable. That rigid length ground against me with every stroke, the water pressure and his movements rubbing right over my clit through the useless scrap of fabric between us.

Waves churned between our bodies. Pleasure shot up my spine.

When he kicked hard and his hips bucked up, his cock shoved against my entrance, the outline brutal and thick even with clothes between us.

I was going to come. Right here. In Vincent's cousin's pool. Wrapped around him while he groped my ass.

My legs clamped down around him involuntarily, thighs shaking.

The water hid the sound of our bodies moving together, but it couldn't hide the desperate, breathy moan that tore out of me:

"Oh god—Daniel—stop, you're—fuck, I can't—"