Page 34 of Seductive Swimmer
My mouth opens to reply with my rebuttal —I’m not falling for her —but that would be a lie and Brayden would know that. I am falling for her.
I lift my shoulders in a gesture of acknowledgement. I can’t quite bring myself to say the words right now.
“I swear to God, if you screw this up in any way…if you make Savannah uncomfortable working here, I’ll beat your ass.”
At that, I lean forward, finally ready to defend my honor, and Savannah’s. “I won’t, Brayden. She’s special, I know. And our business needs her. I know that, too. But can’t you understand that Ineedto see where this can go with her? Fuck, man, I’ve never felt like this before.” I’m baring my soul to my best friend, in hopes that he’ll let this go. I don’t need him to approve, but I really do want him to be okay with me dating Savannah.
He lifts his head in the barest of nods, and I feel the tightness in my chest ease.
“Just be careful, please.”
“Okay, Dad.” We’re past the worst of it, so I know I can tease him again. Judging by his answering smirk, he’s relieved as well.
“Fuck you.”
“I’d rather fuck Savannah, thank you very much,” I retort.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The next evening I’m more nervous than I have been in my life. And considering the level at which I used to compete, that’s saying something.
But this isn’t a race, nor is this just any woman, or any evening. This is my first date with Savannah.
I haven’t seen her since the pool early this morning. I held back, keeping things very respectful and chaste while we swam side by side, as much as I wanted to rip her suit off of her and plunge my dick into her right there in the water.
She worked from home today, which was probably a wise choice, given how much trouble I’m having with trying to resist her. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want to touch her all the goddamn time.
When I knock on her apartment door, my palms are sweaty, and my pulse is racing. And when Savannah opens the door, I’m fairly certain my traitorous heart actually stops beating for a moment.
She’s wearing a tight black dress that drapes between her breasts just enough to hint at the beauties I know lie underneath, hopefully encased in purple lace. The dress stops just above her knees, and her legs seem to go on for miles before they stop at her feet, where she has on a pair of black heels that I want to have locked around my waist later. When she turns around to lock the door, my jaw drops. There’s a cutout section at the base of her neck, and the circle of skin it reveals is far sexier than it should be.
“You look lovely,” I murmur as I bend down to kiss her bare shoulder. She shivers, and I smile in satisfaction.
“Thank you.”
She slides her arm through mine, and we walk down to the car I have waiting for us outside. Once we’re both seated, the driver pulls away, and the privacy screen separating us from him goes up.
Savannah turns to me, and judging by the way her hands are fidgeting in her lap, she’s just as nervous as I am.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks, biting her lip in a way that I’m sure she doesn’t mean to be as erotic as it is for me.
“Casa Ridolfo. I hope you enjoy Italian.” I chose the restaurant for its quiet ambience. It’s not the flashiest of choices, but I don’t think Savannah needs to be wowed by Michelin star chefs or celebrity endorsements. My hope is that she’ll appreciate the quality food, but also the private and comfortable atmosphere.
“Is that where you take all your first dates?” she blurts out, then visibly winces. Yes, she’s definitely nervous. Somehow, seeing that makes me less anxious myself. I cup her chin and turn her head to face me.
“No, love. I have never taken a woman to Casa Ridolfo. I’ve also never picked a woman up at her apartment before. You’re different, so wonderfully different from anyone else. I want tonight to be just as special as you are.”
She softens, and I know I’ve said the right thing. So, I lean in cautiously, keeping my hand on her chin and the other on the seat beside me, and kiss her gently on the lips.
We spend the rest of the short ride to the restaurant in a comfortable silence. My hand in hers, maintaining the physical connection between us as the unseen threads that pull us toward each other thrum with anticipation.
When we reach the restaurant, I walk in proudly with her on my arm. The owner, Gianni, an older Italian man I’ve come to know over the years, comes bustling over, his white apron tied around his portly waist.
“Alessandro, my boy. You’re here, and you brought a woman? Bellissima.” He goes in and kisses Savannah on both cheeks, and I’m relieved to see her smile and go along with it. “I am Gianni. Welcome, welcome. I have special table for you. Come.” He gestures toward the back of the restaurant, where I had specifically requested to be seated at a table that is in an alcove off to the side.
He helps Savannah sit down, before clapping me on the shoulder. “A bottle of Barolo, yes?” I nod, and he hurries off. Savannah leans forward, placing her elbows on the table.
“Alessandro?” she asks.
