“Only if you promise not to touch me,” I call back.
“I promise not to do anything you don’t beg me for.”
Then, he turns around and dips under the water, disappearing under the falls.
I groan aloud, kicking my head back. I’m equal parts relieved and pissed that he couldn’t just make the promise. He’s sending me some seriously mixed signals.
Sighing in resignation, I slide my tank top over my head, unbutton my jean shorts, and let them drop. Thankfully, I’ve learned not to go anywhere without wearing my bathing suit.
I slide my fingers over the fresh tattoo on my thigh. It’s only been a couple of days, and I’m risking infection by getting in the water. But not getting in it and never finding out what will happen behind the waterfall feels worse.
I think the only wise decision I’ll make today is not swinging from a vine. I won't show up the king of the jungle today, although I wish Enzo didn’t disappear so I can ask him if it’s safe to cannonball into the spring. He may have dived, but I also get the feeling he could dive in four feet of water and not even scratch his nose.
Deciding to go for it, I do a running jump, curl into a ball, and slam into the water like a true imbecile. Most girls would probably sashay into the water like they’re in a photo shoot, but my life is too uncertain not to do the things I truly want to do.
Like, seduce the hottest man I’ve ever seen behind a waterfall. I groan again, this time at myself. It took two seconds to talk myself into it, though I already knew I wasn’t going to say no.
I like to lie to myself.
I come up for air long enough to breathe in one big gulp and then dive back under, cutting beneath the waterfall.
It’s so warm in here; it feels like being wrapped in a heated blanket on a cold day. So comforting that it gives you goosebumps.
When I re-emerge, Enzo is sitting on the rock floor at the edge of the pool, one knee kicked up and supporting his arm, and the other still dipped in the water while he waits for me. His body glistens, and one droplet in particular snags my attention, trailing down his defined stomach and toward the waistband of his shorts.
Swallowing, I meet his stare, staying in the water where it’s safe. I can’t decipher any of the emotions in his eyes. He has them on lockdown, and not knowing how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking—it’s disconcerting.
“Are you going to murder me now?” I ask, my voice scarcely above the thunderous sound from the falls. It would be incredibly easy for my screams to be washed away.
“Would anyone be looking for you?” he retorts.
I smile sardonically. “Yes. I have people looking for me right now.” He’ll never understand the truth of that statement. Not until it’s too late, at least.
“This waterfall isn’t well known,” he responds, dragging his gaze down the column of my neck before returning to my eyes. “It’d take a while to find you.”
Despite the fact that I’m sweating from the temperature, his answer—no, his voice—sends shivers down my spine.
I shrug. “I never want to be found.”
“Then I suppose I have you right where I want you,” he drawls lazily.
I’m in trouble, but it’s the type of danger that makes you smile uncontrollably as you ride the line between life and death. The kind of danger that gives you a thrill, makes you feel alive, and then leaves you bereft and empty when it’s over.
“Want to know what I thought of you when we were in the bar?” I quiz.
“That I could get you pregnant with one look,” he reiterates dryly. Liquid heat pools low in my stomach from his words. I don’t even want kids, so it’s shameful to admit that I’m incredibly turned on.
It’s like your celebrity crush talking about knocking you up. Doesn’t matter if you want kids or not, your panties immediately melt at the thought.
I shake my head, breathing in deep, hoping I inhale oxygen that will cleanse the delirium from my mind.
“That you could ruin me with just the tip,” I admit, grinning when he looks a little taken aback.
“What makes you think I’d fuck you?”
Ouch.
I shrug, ignoring the embarrassment beginning to creep up my cheeks.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t?”
He stares at me for a moment, his eyes assessing. It feels like he has a lockpick and is poking through my brain, trying to unravel all my secrets.
But I’ll never tell.
Finally, he slowly shakes his head, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. I zero in on the act, my mouth both parting and salivating.