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She twists to wring out her ponytail, and I almost groan.

She doesn’t even know.

She doesn’t know she’s got every single part of me snarling and snapping for a taste.

“Zeke,” Max says near my shoulder, like he’s just materialized from thin air. “Close your mouth or catch a bug.”

I growl, low and threatening.

He laughs.

Laughs.

The smug bastard.

“You’re fine,” he says, patting my shoulder like I’m the one who needs reassurance. “Just don’t shift in the pool. You’ll break the foundation, and the chlorine will get into the crops.”

I ignore him. I have bigger problems.

Like the fact that my mate—my Rose—is wet, radiant, and bouncing toward the diving board like a sun-kissed goddess with no idea she’s this close to being devoured.

“My turn! Cannonball!” Casey shouts.

She rips off the wet t-shirt.

I have one moment to come to grips with her in that fucking two-piece that should be illegal before she launches herself into the air.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

She is so hot.

The splash she makes is huge.

Rosie screams in delight. Penny claps. Everyone is all smiles.

But me? I’m dying.

Because when she surfaces, soaked, laughing, cheeks pink and lips parted—her eyes land on mine.

And fuck, she knows.

Something shifts in her expression.

Her smile softens, her eyes flicker over me in my tank top and swim trunks, and her breath catches.

I feel it like a brand to my skin.

And I’m moving before I can stop myself.

Into the pool.

Across the water.

Hands closing around her waist and dragging her to me like she’s already mine.

Because she is.

“Hey—” she starts, but I cut her off with my mouth.