Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(10)

He shrugs. “I haven’t been in yet.”

“What?” I shriek in horror. “Are you crazy? If I had this on my doorstep, I would be swimming morning, noon and night.” In fact… “We have to go for a midnight swim!”

“What?” He snorts, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Absolutely not.”

My heart hammers and I don’t know if it’s the darkness of the night or the tequila shots I had earlier, but I decide to be brave. “Fine,” I reply, shimmying out of my jeans.

“What are you doing?” he demands, as I pull my T-shirt over my head.

“I’m going in,” I say before I can chicken out.

“Those waves are rough tonight,” he growls. “You are not doing this.”

My brows shoot up. Is that an order?

He stares down at my cotton bra and panties.

I race towards the sea until I’m submerged waist-deep, acclimatising. It’s not freezing but it's cold enough for my nipples to peak. Turning back to the beach, I see him glaring at me, his arms still folded.

“It’s warmer than it looks,” I shout to the shore, my voice drowning in the sea sounds.

Waves crash over my shoulders, pulling me under. Unfazed, I dive under the current. Growing up twenty miles from a beach and despite the Welsh weather, I’ve been swimming for years. The mistake many people make is freaking out, opening their mouths, and swallowing gallons of water.

As I glide along the seabed, strong arms pull me out of the water.

“What the fuck, Elena?” He pulls me to standing and glowers at me as the waves crash around our waists. He has stripped down to his boxers. His chest heaves up and down, his dark hair wet and clinging to his forehead.

Goosebumps break out along my skin and I’m not sure if it’s the water temperature or the growing heat between my thighs, or maybe both. Damn, he’s sexy when he’s angry.

“I thought you were in trouble,” he mutters. “You could have told me you swim like a mermaid. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“At least it got you in the water.” I bite my lip.

His eyes darken as he fixes them on my chest with Clark Kent heat vision and a low grumble escapes his throat. I’m starting to worry I’ll burst into flames.

I glance down, shivering. My cotton bra has turned transparent in the water. My nipples protrude like bullets. I might as well be topless.

My gaze follows the treasure trail of hair down his delicious V-tapered body. The water moulds his boxers around his growing hardness like a wrapped present just for me.

Time stands still as we brazenly devour each other's bodies with our eyes.

Yes, please.

“I’m so turned on just looking at you,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes meeting mine. He swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down. “It’s embarrassing.”

Stepping forward, I run my fingers over the wet sculpted muscles on his broad chest.

Delicious.

“Now you have me in the water,” he murmurs. “What are you going to do with me?”

My fingers trace down his chest to his stomach, dancing above his boxers. He gives me an arrogant smirk while he gauges whether I have the guts to go lower. His eyes urge me farther and all my remaining inhibitions drown in the water as my hand slides down his lower stomach into his boxers.

Wrapping my hand around his hard length, I let out a delighted gasp at what I find.

He’s massive. And so ready.

As my grip tightens around him, he groans, and I begin to stroke up and down his swollen hardness. Hell, yeah, this feels good.

I need to see him. All of him. I lower his boxers, and his erection springs free.

I stare down, half terrified, half in awe.

“It’s okay,” Tristan says softly, reading my face. “We don’t need to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“That thing looks like something NASA should launch into space.” I continue my slow and steady motion, sliding my hand up and down him.

He lets out a loud laugh. “You’re the only girl who has made me burst out laughing while I’m hard.” His hands curl around my buttocks, and he presses me hard against his bare erection.

I feel it through my flimsy cotton panties and whimper, grinding against it. Like we are fucking with our clothes on.

His mouth crashes down on mine. As one hand remains on my butt, the other hand moves around to my lower stomach, playing with the hem of my pants. He pauses, giving me the opportunity to stop him. Instead, I squirm impatiently; I need his fingers lower. Now.

I widen my legs.

He looks into my eyes and slides his large hand into my wet underwear. Then I spread my thighs apart for easier access, writhing against his fingers to push them to where I need them to be.

“Horny little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckles as his fingers rim my entrance. “I’m going to enjoy making you come.”

“Yes,” I say in a choked voice into his shoulder, not sure what I’m saying yes to. Just yes.

His entire palm is now massaging my opening. Spreading me open with two fingers, he thrusts his middle finger into me, first slowly, then deeper, faster.

“This feels…good.” I groan, gasping as he pushes deeper.

“Good?” he grunts, sliding a second finger in.