Aria's POV
I plunged beneath the surface, my clothes instantly soaking up water like a sponge.
Panic flashed through me briefly before my swimming instincts kicked in. I'd been swimming since childhood—this wasn't exactly life-threatening.
But before I could push myself up, strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me toward the surface. Aiden had jumped in after me.
We broke through the water together, his chest pressed against my back, his breath warm against my ear. I gasped for air, more from the shock of his touch than any need for oxygen.
"I can swim," I sputtered, water dripping down my face as I turned in his arms. "You didn't need to—"
My words died in my throat as I suddenly found myself face-to-face with him, our bodies dangerously close in the water.
His bathrobe was gone—of course it was. Who jumps into a pool wearing a bathrobe?
He was in nothing but those black swim shorts from earlier.
His dark hair was slicked back, water clinging to his lashes.
His eyes—usually so unreadable—held something raw, something immediate, that made my stomach tighten.
"I know," he said simply, still holding me steady, his chest pressed to mine.
I tried to push away, suddenly very aware of our closeness. "I can manage," I insisted, attempting to create some distance. "You don't need to hold me."
But his grip remained firm, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my heart race. "You're shivering."
"It's just the water," I lied. It wasn't cold—the pool was heated—but something about the way he was looking at me sent tremors through my body.
"Is it?" he asked, one eyebrow raised slightly.
I scrambled for something—anything—to break the tension.
"The papers—" I blurted, glancing anxiously at the soaked documents drifting around us.
"Don't worry about them," he said, his voice low and steady. "They're just copies."
I should've felt relieved. I should've pulled away, laughed it off, swum to the edge and pretended none of this had happened.
But I didn't move. Neither did he.
The space between us seemed to hum with something unspoken, thick and electric. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
"Aiden..." I whispered, not even sure what I was trying to say.
He moved closer, our legs tangling beneath the water as we treaded to stay afloat. "Yes, Mrs. Carter?"
The formal title somehow sounded intimate when spoken like that, his voice husky and low.
"We should..." I started, then lost my train of thought as his hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, pressing me closer.
"We should what?" he prompted, his breath warm against my wet cheek.
Water lapped around us, the gentle sound of it splashing against the pool edges seeming extraordinarily loud in the tense silence.
"We should finish what we started in the car," he murmured, his lips now dangerously close to my ear.
My breath caught as I felt something hard press against my stomach under the water.
The realization of what it was sent a rush of heat straight between my legs, my body responding instantly despite my brain's weak protests.
I felt myself growing wet—a strange sensation while already submerged in water—a throbbing, insistent need building inside me.
My core clenched with want, every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming for his touch.
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