I retreat from the open door while Calvin’s eyes are still shut, his breathing even. I move swiftly but quietly back to my room, dissecting everything in my head. He was soothed by whatever was in that syringe. I think of Calvin’s bad temper, the way his mood can shift in an instant. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, because now it seems obvious that his connection to the Cartel is drugs.
25
Calvin finds me on my sill. He stops in the middle of the bedroom with his hands on his hips. “Ready to hit the pool, Sparrow?”
I bite my lower lip. That drugs are involved makes me wary, but I know better than to let on to what I saw. “Birds can’t swim,” I point out.
“You’re right about that. But I’ll be there to save you if you sink.”
My load lightens seeing his good mood, and I smile as I stand. He leads the way to a locked door that opens to a wing of the house I’ve never seen. The pool is on the ground floor in a windowless, tiled room. It’s like stepping into another world, all cerulean glow and echoing water, seemingly cut off from the rest of the mansion. I follow Calvin’s lead as he removes his robe and sets it across a lounge chair. He doesn’t spare me a glance before diving seamlessly into the blue.
I use the steps to enter the warm water, watching him swim laps as I slowly submerge myself. When I’m up to my shoulders, I see Calvin through the steam, his long arms and legs slicing through the water like he was made for it. I duck under all the way with my eyes shut and listen to the dull, delayed chorus of his swimming. This feels like freedom. I pretend I’m on vacation with my boyfriend, and we’re at the hotel swimming pool. When I emerge, I’ll be bathed in the golden warmth of shining, shimmering, reflective sunlight. I wait until I have no more breath and shoot up from the water, gasping for air. Calvin’s nearby, running his hand over his face and swiping wet hair from his forehead. His eyes land on me, and though we’re looking directly at each other, all I can see is the essence of him amongst the steam, skin, heat, water.
“Why is this room closed off?” I ask.
“Because it’s for me.”
“And the rest of the mansion isn’t?”
“Just the fourth floor.”
“What about the library, cinema, game room . . . ?”
“For guests,” he says. “I don’t use them. The pool is mine.”
“Why?”
“Swimming takes the edge off.”
“That’s the only reason?”
He sniffs and glides closer to me. “I work hard,” he says. “Heat is good for my body.”
“You sit at a desk all day,” I point out.
“My workouts, I mean.”
“Oh.”
He’s circling me now. My body tightens up when he’s behind me and only loosens when he’s in my sight again.
“Are you a fighter?” I ask.
He stops treading water and plants his feet on the pool’s floor. “What?”
“In the gym, I saw a body-opponent bag. And you were reading about human anatomy and physiology.”
“You’ve heard that famous proverb, right? Curiosity killed the Cat?”
“Very funny.”
“Cats don’t swim either,” he notes.
“Would you let me drown? Earlier you said you’d save me.”
“What I need to do and what I want to do are not always the same thing.”
“So which is need and which is want? Save or drown?”
“I’ll let you figure that out. Just know that all it takes to put either into motion is a decision from me.” He’s closing in on me, and I retreat until my shoulder blades hit the lip of the pool. “Your fate,” he says, “is in my hands.”
“I accept that,” I say. His surprised expression is so rare that I almost lose my train of thought. “What I can’t accept is not knowing my fate. If you’ll just tell me if I’ll live or die, tell me what I’m doing here, what my purpose is, and if it’s . . . forever, I promise—I will be better.”
“You ask for a lot.” He steps within inches of me so our faces almost touch.
“Tell me that, and I won’t ask for anything else.”
He raises his hand to run his thumb over my cheekbone. The room is silent save for the acute splash echo of pool water. His fingers slide down my face and under my hair, where they wrap around the nape my neck. “You look sexy when you’re wet, Cataline.”
My eyelids threaten to close, but I force myself to hold his gaze.
He lowers his mouth to my ear. “You’d make a beautiful mermaid,” he whispers. “But, then, how would I fuck you?”
Steam dulls my senses, but the thrill that spirals down my spine is sharp. When I speak, the words barely reach my mouth. “I’m sure you’d find a way.”
He chuckles low and gritty with hot breath. “Close your eyes.” My lids are already half shut, so they fall easily. “Can you imagine my fingers in your bikini bottoms right now?”
A noise I don’t recognize escapes me.
“I love the way you feel. You’re so hot inside, and you get so wet for me. It takes barely anything. Even now, I’m not touching you there, but I bet your greedy cunt can’t wait to suck me right up.”
I should slap him for what he says, but I can barely move beyond the rhythm of deep breaths.
“Get out of the pool.”
“What?”
“Get out.”
He backs away and nods at the steps. My blood runs like fire through my veins, and I feel it pumping between my legs. I can’t believe he’s sending me away now, like this, and the thought makes me want to scream with frustration. When I exit the pool and reach for my robe, he makes a disapproving noise.
“I didn’t say to get dressed. Come here.” He looks at the edge of the pool. After the warm water, the tile feels like ice under my feet when I walk back to him. I stand right at the lip and look down. He’s submerged to the middle of his torso, and his head hits just at my knees. “I want to see all of you.”
I’m shaking at the loss of heat and because I don’t know what’s coming. He raises his eyebrows at me, so I reach back and tug on the string of my bikini top. With a bounce, it falls forward so it’s hanging around my neck. I clear my throat. “Calvin?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
I curl my fingernails into my palms and breathe. “I’m not going to give you my body. If you want it, you have to take it knowing I don’t want this.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” he says evenly. “Now, remove it. Slowly. I want you to do it so I can watch.” I take a step back, but his hand catches my ankle. The top falls when I pull the string.
He reaches up and pinches the fabric of my bathing suit bottoms. “Everything.”
I hook my thumbs into the waistband. I slide one side over my hip and then the other. My backside chills as I peel away the wet suit.
“Very good,” he says. “Nice and slow. When you listen, you are a remarkably good little bird.”
The unfamiliar approval feels like his touch; I could almost lean into it. When I release the bottoms, they fall around my ankles. He frees my leg from his grasp so I can step out of the swimsuit and then replaces his hand. He pulls my right ankle open and then my left, baring me to him. When his lips touch my inner calf, I shudder, and it triggers an even stronger full-body tremble. My muscles feel weak and unsupportive, and I have half a mind to ask him to get out of the pool and hold me up. His eyes travel up my thigh until they reach my center. “Finger yourself.”
“What?”
“Show me how you get yourself off.”
“No,” I exclaim. “Not while you watch.”
“You forget that I can watch you anytime I like.”
I swallow through the lump in my throat and involuntarily glance around the room for cameras. “Do you?”
His eyes are blazing against the blue pool, but the green that melts me is gone. There’s just the black of his heart spilling out through his pupils. “No,” he says. “I prefer the live show.”
“Please, Calvin. I can’t—please. Don’t make me.”
“Every time you say please, my dick gets a little harder. The harder it gets, the less control I have.” He half rises out of the pool and snatches my wrist, lowering my hand between my legs. He pushes my palm against my clit so I’m cupping myself. When I insert my index finger, he releases my wrist and settles back in the water. I push my mound into my palm and moan softly as my finger plows deeper. When my embarrassment begins to subside and carnality takes over, I realize I like the way he watches me. The look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: his control is waning, and it’s my doing. In this moment, I’m the one with the power. “Calvin,” I moan when his eyes meet mine.