Chapter
One
The russet brown bikini accentuated her deep mahogany skin like a sunset reflecting on calm waters. The suit’s rich, earthy tone seemed to glow against her complexion, highlighting the natural radiance of her skin. It was as if the color was chosen specifically for her, perfectly harmonizing with and illuminating her beauty in the late afternoon sunlight.
Hell. Knowing her, the colorhadbeen picked just for her.
My gaze traced the contours of her reposed form. The thin string crossing her back was doing an admirable job of keeping her generous breasts in check. I silently admired the strength in her shoulders and the gentle dip before the small of her back. A bead of sweat had collected in that shallow hollow, and I felt the strangest urge to lean in and lick it away, craving the taste of salt on her skin.
My eyes continued their indulgent tour—up the smooth curve of her backside and down the steep drop of her hips. The way the fabric of her bikini bottoms disappeared into those deep curves was seriously distracting. Even though we were alone, I felt my cheeks warm.
“Enjoying the view?”
I cleared my throat and adjusted my sunglasses on the bridge of my nose, fully aware that I’d been caught. I had hoped the mirrored lenses might conceal the path of my stare, but there was no hiding from her.
“You bet I am,” I shot back.
Eva was lying on her stomach along the ledge of our private swim-up pool, her chin resting on her folded arms. She looked utterly peaceful. No competitions, no cameras, no adoring fans. Just Eva, relaxed in the sun with that easy smile.
“Do you need more sunscreen?” I asked.
Her lazy grin broadened. “Sounds like a ploy to get your hands all over me.”
“I care deeply about your health,” I deadpanned.
Her fingers skimmed the top of the chlorinated water. I knew she liked the attention, even if she’d never say it out loud.
The late-afternoon sun soaked everything in warmth, making the private pool outside of our hotel room shimmer. I sat on the edge with my legs dangling in the cool water—a welcome contrast to the heat. It was quiet. Just the soft lapping of water against the pool’s edge and the distant murmur of laughter drifting from the main resort.
It was our first real time alone since the playoffs had ended. From here, everything—the extended season, the brutal road trips, the constant noise—felt far away. For the first time in months, we had no practices, no schedules, no early mornings. Just us.
Eventually, I eased into the pool, careful not to splash and disturb Eva’s zen. Unlike her revealing bikini, I wore swim shorts and a bikini top that bordered on sporty. I winced when the chilled water touched my bare midsection.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” I asked, sinking deeper into the pool.
Eva lifted her head just enough to glance at me. “How about we don’t plan anything? Just go wherever the day takes us.”
“That sounds perfect.”
I imagined lazy mornings tangled in bed, the soundtrack of tropical birds and waves crashing just beyond our windows.
“Are you actually going to use the pool you paid extra for?” I asked.
Eva had insisted on covering the cost of our vacation. I’d pushed back—hard—but she’d calmly dismantled my soapbox.You can pay for the next one,she’d promised.
The idea of there being anextvacation with her made me giddy, and we’d barely started this one.
Eva gracefully rose to her feet and walked along the pool’s ledge. She didn’t strike me as the cannonball type, which gave me extra time to admire the way the sunlight kissed her nearly bare skin.
Her movements were unhurried, yet deliberate. Sleek muscle shifted beneath smooth, sun-warmed skin with every step. Even in something as revealing as her bikini, there was nothing performative about her—only a calm, physical confidence that made it impossible to look away. She carried herself like someone who knew her own worth and had no need to prove it.
Powerful. That’s the word that came to mind.
Eva descended the concrete steps, one by one. Anticipating the tropical vacation, her hairstylist back in Chicago had twisted her hair into a multitude of micro braids that she arranged in a bun to avoid getting damp in the chlorinated water.
When the water reached her navel, she let out a hiss. “Oh, that’s cold!” she complained. “You could’ve warned a girl.”
“It’s not an ice bath,” I smirked. “Getting soft with all this time off?”
