Page 113 of Catching Trouble

I breathed softly into his kiss. “I feel the same.”

He broke away, his gaze glued to mine.

“It’s true. I love you, too. I love everything about you. Your kindness. How you are with Sophie. The way you move through the world—quiet, careful, and, if I’m honest, obscenely hot. But more than that, you make me feel safe. That’s something I’ve never had before.”

He smiled, and my heart cracked wide open. “I even love your scowl.”

Right on cue, he scowled.

I chuckled. “There it is.” I smoothed the furrows on his forehead with my fingers. “It’s delicious.”

I took his hand from my face and laced our fingers together.

“And your skin …” I kissed his knuckles, tracing the tattoos there with my tongue. “I love what it does to me. How it makes me feel.”

Maxime shifted against me, the water rolling over our bodies. He moved his hips, and a throaty sound escaped his chest, curling low in my belly.

“I lovethattoo,” I said, smiling into his neck. “Feel free to give me as much ofthatas you want.”

“I intend to,” he said, his voice rough against my ear.

I leaned back, letting myself look at him—really look at him. “And your body. Call me shallow, but every time I see it, all I want to do is jump on you.”

Maxime stared back at me, setting the surrounding air on fire. “I’d never stop you,”

Taking his words as permission, I traced his tattoos with my fingertips, skimming over the light dusting of hair on his chest. When touching was no longer enough, I followed the path with my lips—across his collarbone, along his shoulder, and finally, to the crook of his neck. He groaned when I gently bit into him, his voice deep and rough as he slowly guided us through the water.

Every step took us closer to the edge of the pool, and as we moved, Maxime kissed me, his tongue working delicious circles against mine. With every inch, the fire in my belly grew, and when he slipped his hand inside my bikini bottoms, nudging them down, I clung onto him for dear life.

At the pool’s edge, I let my legs fall from his waist, our skin slick and slippery. He reached between us, tugging my bikini bottoms free. When he finally broke the kiss, his chest heaved.

I reached for him, but he stopped me with a look that scorched straight through me. It was molten, and unmistakably Maxime

With a shaky breath, I kissed the mermaid on his pec. She was currently dancing on his chest as his lungs rose and fell.

“Please remind me why I don’t spend more time in the water with you?”

He gave a low chuckle. “I have no idea. Water is very invigorating.” As he spoke, he brought his fingertips to my jaw. “If you like, I can show you.”

I didn’t know what he had in mind. But with the low grind of his voice and the burn in his eyes, how could I refuse?

I nodded.

Maxime quirked a brow, and without another word, took a breath and disappeared under the surface.

Without him next to me, the quiet was eerie—just the lap of the water against the side of the pool and the usual hum of insects.

It was almost meditative—lazy, weightless and serene—right until his hands clamped around my buttocks. The pressure made me open my eyes wide.

I looked down. All I could make out was the top of his head and the ink on his shoulders. Then a hot flicker of sensation lit up my clit, and I sucked in a breath.

Soft kisses to my thighs came next, then the pulse of pleasure again. I nearly giggled until a delicious ache sprung low in my belly.

I gripped Maxime’s shoulders, and he found my hands, pressing them to his skin like an anchor. Another fresh ripple of pleasure nudged against me, harder this time, and I narrowed my eyes into the water. Tiny iridescent bubbles rose through the clear blue, and I swallowed.

Bubbles? Was he?

Yep. Maxime was blowing bubbles against my clit.