Wrong Place, Wrong Man

Chapter 11

Yes.”
The single word came so quietly that my smile faltered.
He moved.
I jumped.
The water hit me for the second time that night.
I surfaced immediately and pushed wet hair out of my face.
“You son of a b***h!”
Lorenzo stood at the edge of the dock looking down at me.
I gave him the finger.
His mouth twitched.
“Very elegant.”
“f**k you.”
“Careful.”
There was something in the way he said it that made my stomach tighten.
I began swimming backwards.
“I’m warning you.”
“So am I.”
Then he stepped off the dock.
For some reason, that startled me more than anything else he’d done.
Lorenzo Valenti, in trousers that probably cost more than my monthly rent and a white shirt that had looked as though it had been tailored directly onto his body, walked straight into the black water after me.
The water climbed his legs.
His waist.
His shirt darkened instantly where it touched the surface, white cotton becoming translucent against his skin.
I stopped swimming.
That was a mistake.
A spectacular one.
Because the wet fabric revealed what the suit had only suggested.
Broad shoulders. A hard chest. The dark shapes of tattoos beneath the soaked cotton. Ink curved across one side of his torso and disappeared below the waterline, while the open collar of his shirt exposed another black pattern crossing the upper part of his chest.
My eyes betrayed me.
Again.
They travelled down.
Then up.
Lorenzo caught me.
Not physically.
Yet.
His eyes caught mine.
A slow, knowing smile appeared.
“Enjoying the view?”
Fuck.
I immediately started swimming backwards again.
“Not particularly.”
“Liar.”
“I’ve seen better.”
“No, you haven’t.”
The confidence of that answer was so outrageous I almost swallowed marina water.
“You’re unbearable.”
“And yet you keep staring.”
“I’m checking for weaknesses.”
“Find any?”
“Several.”
“Name one.”
“Your personality.”
His laugh reached me across the water.
Not the controlled trace of amusement I’d seen earlier.
An actual laugh.
Low and rich and completely unexpected.
It did something unpleasantly interesting to my stomach.
I hated that too.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accused.
“Immensely.”
“Psychopath.”
“Possibly.”
I kept moving backwards.
He kept coming.
The water should have made him less intimidating.
It didn’t.
If anything, seeing him stripped of the immaculate lines of his jacket made him worse. His shirt clung to his torso, sleeves rolled beneath his elbows, tattoos stark against wet skin. His hair had finally surrendered to the water, several dark strands falling over his forehead.
He looked less polished.
More dangerous.
More human.
And somehow considerably more attractive.
My body was a f*****g traitor.
“Stop.”
He said it quietly.
I continued swimming.
“Bonnie.”
“No.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“Still swimming.”
“Barely.”
“Still counts.”
I moved another few feet.
My leg cramped.
Pain seized my calf so suddenly that my breath caught.
I sank.
Only for a second.
But he saw.
Lorenzo crossed the distance between us before I recovered.
His arm locked around my waist.
I reacted immediately.
“Get off me!”
I twisted, trying to drive my elbow into him, but water ruined the movement. His other hand caught my wrist before I could strike again.
“Stop fighting.”
“Let go.”
“You’re cramping.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to drown.”
“Then let me drown in peace.”
“Not an option.”
I kicked.
He swore as my knee connected with his thigh.
His grip tightened.
“Bonnie.”
“Lorenzo.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
I twisted again.
He pulled me against him.
Every thought disappeared.
My body collided with his from chest to thigh, the water between us suddenly irrelevant. One arm remained locked around my waist while his other hand held my wrist against his chest.
I inhaled sharply.
So did he.
For the first time since I’d met him, Lorenzo went completely still.
The anger didn’t disappear.
Neither did mine.
But something else entered the space between us.
Something hot.
Immediate.
Dangerously physical.
His wet shirt was cold beneath my palm, but the body beneath it wasn’t. I could feel the hard rise and fall of his chest with every breath, the strength in the arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers spread against the small of my back.
My blouse had become a useless second skin.
There was no meaningful barrier between us.
Lorenzo’s eyes lowered.
Not to my face.
Lower.
My breath changed.
His did too.
When his gaze returned to mine, the amusement was gone.
Completely.
The look that replaced it made heat gather low in my belly despite the cold water surrounding us.
“You should stop doing that,” he said.
His voice was rougher now.
“Doing what?”
“Moving.”
I stared at him.
Then I understood.
Oh.
A flush swept over my face.
Lorenzo saw that too.
Of course he did.
A dangerous trace of satisfaction returned to his expression.
I should have moved away.
Instead, anger rescued me from embarrassment.
“You’re the one holding me against you.”
“Because you keep trying to drown yourself.”
“I was escaping.”
“You lost.”
“I did not lose.”
“You’re in my arms.”
“Temporarily.”

His hand shifted slightly against my waist.
My stomach contracted.
“Very temporarily,” I added.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I shoved at his chest.
He didn’t move.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Lorenzo.”
“Bonnie.”
“I swear to God, if you say my name like that one more time…”
“Like what?”
He knew exactly what he was doing.
His face was close enough now that I could see droplets of water caught in his lashes.
“Like that.”
“Bonnie.”
Bastard.
I shoved him again.
This time he caught both my wrists.
For one suspended moment we stared at each other, my hands trapped between our bodies, his face only inches from mine.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
My lips parted before I could stop them.
The movement was tiny.
His reaction wasn’t.
His jaw tightened.
The hand at my waist flexed once.
Something inside me went molten.
I hated how badly I wanted to know what his mouth would feel like.
I hated that I remembered wondering the same thing in his office.
And I especially hated the certainty in his eyes that told me he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
“You’re staring again,” he murmured.
“I hate you.”
“That wasn’t a denial.”
“It’s the closest you’re getting.”
His gaze remained on my mouth.
“Tonight.”