Page 32 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Tristan

It was far too late to still be at work, but it wasn't unusual for me to finish for the day after nine. I closed my laptop with the same precision I applied to everything else in my life, the soft click echoing through my office. My desk was already cleared for tomorrow, with not a single paper out of place. The ritual of ending each workday had become as automatic as breathing: laptop closed, jacket straightened, cufflinks adjusted, door locked.

Crochet hook and yarn stashed in the bottom drawer of my desk, out of sight.

I was reaching for my coat when the intercom crackled to life.

"Mr. Bancroft?"

The voice belonged to Davies, head of security for the evening shift.

"Sorry to bother you, sir, but we have a situation on the rooftop spa level."

My hand froze on the coat hanger. The spa had been closed for two hours, all guests cleared out, staff finished with their cleaning routines.

"What kind of situation?"

"A couple of guests are up there after hours, sir. They somehow acquired a keycard that gave them late-night access. My team can handle it, but I thought you should know."

Irritation flared hot in my chest, as well as a sneaking suspicion. Somehow, I knew exactly which guests would be involved in hijinks like this.

"I'll handle it myself,"

I said, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.

"Sir, that's not necessary—"

But I was already moving, striding toward the elevator with controlled fury. Better to handle this quietly, efficiently, with the kind of personal attention that reminded people why the Bancroft commanded such respect.

I jabbed the elevator call button with far more force than necessary. The doors slid open immediately, and I stepped inside and used my keycard to unlock roof access. As the elevator rose, I studied my reflection in the mirrored walls. Pressed suit, perfectly knotted tie, face set in hard lines that had made hostile investors back down. I looked like exactly what I was: a man who didn't tolerate disruption to his carefully ordered world. A man who made the rules, and didn't allow anyone, not even a wild, impulsive, devastatingly sexy American couple, to break them.

The elevator doors opened into a small lobby with glass doors that led outside onto the flat expanse of the hotel roof, which we'd recently converted into a garden oasis, complete with a thermal pool.

At this time of night, all I could see through the glass was darkness broken only by strips of lighting that illuminated the pathways leading through the carefully positioned potted shrubs and flowers. The pool was at the far end of the rooftop garden, situated for the best view across Bath's historic crescent.

At night, with the city lights twinkling below, it became something almost magical, and Gemma had mentioned keeping it open later more than once. But we had to keep the noise down for guests staying in the rooms below, so I only allowed it two nights a week.

As I rounded the corner, the scene that greeted me stopped me in my tracks.

The thermal pool glowed like a jewel in the darkness, underwater lighting turning the naturally heated water into liquid amber. Steam rose from the surface in lazy spirals, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere against the backdrop of Bath's Georgian crescents. The comfortable seating areas were empty, chairs still neatly arranged.

But the pool itself was very much occupied.

Two figures moved in the steaming water, their bodies creating ripples that caught the underwater lights. Even in silhouette, even through the steam and shadows, I knew exactly who they were. The gorgeous curls floating down the woman's back, grazing the water's surface, were unmistakable, as was the broad-shouldered man holding her in his lap. They both moaned as they deepened their kiss, lost in the passion of the moment.

It was Juniper and Marco.

My throat went dry.

They hadn't noticed me yet. Juniper's back was to me, her dark hair wet and gleaming, water droplets sliding down the elegant curve of her spine. Marco had a hand on the back of her neck as he kissed her. Their movements were slow, intimate, and tender. It was a private moment that no one else was meant to witness. And I was pretty sure they were naked.

I should have announced myself immediately. I should have cleared my throat and demanded an explanation.

Instead, I stood frozen at the edge of the pool, gripping the back of a chair for support, and watched.

The practical part of my brain—the part that had been trained since childhood to think in terms of liability and reputation management—screamed at the violation of the rules.

But that voice was being drowned out by something much more primitive, much more dangerous.

Lust. Pure, undeniable, impossible to ignore. Every rational thought I possessed was being overwhelmed by the view of Juniper's back arching, the tattoo on her back shifting with her movement.

They were beautiful together in a way that made my chest tight and my hands shake. Sexy, in a way that made my cock pulse with need.

Steam continued to rise from the pool, wrapping around their bodies like silk scarves. The soft sounds of water lapping against tile mixed with something else—quiet murmurs, the kind of intimate conversation that lovers shared when they thought they were alone. Oddly, I could have sworn I heard Juniper whisper my name more than once. But that made no sense.

I forced air into my lungs and straightened my spine, calling on every lesson in control I'd ever learned. Whatever was happening here, I was still the CEO of this establishment. I had authority, responsibility, a duty to maintain order, to enforce the rules. The fact that my cock was pressing insistently against my zipper was irrelevant.

"Excuse me,"

I said, my voice cutting through the intimate quiet like a blade.

"The spa is closed. You'll need to leave immediately."

Both figures in the pool went still, the gentle ripples around them gradually settling. Juniper turned first, spinning her upper body to look over her shoulder at me. When her dark eyes met mine across the steaming water, something electric shot through my entire nervous system.

I'd been right. She was naked. Completely, gloriously naked.

The realization hit me like a freight train, stealing what little breath I'd managed to recover. Her breasts broke the surface of the water, nipples dark and peaked from the temperature contrast, droplets sliding down her brown skin. And the underwater lighting made the pool glow, so that what was happening beneath the surface was almost as clear as what was happening above.

"Mr. Bancroft,"

she said, and her voice was honey over gravel, warm and knowing.

"What a pleasant surprise."

My throat worked soundlessly. Pleasant surprise. As if they hadn't broken into a restricted area after hours. As if she wasn't sitting naked in my thermal pool like some sort of water nymph designed specifically to drive me insane.

Marco ran a hand down her spine, his eyes on me. His dark hair was wet and tousled. His muscled shoulders were covered in tattoos that I wanted to see more of, glistening in the soft light as his body shifted beneath hers.

"We were just enjoying the amenities,"

he said, his voice carrying a hint of challenge that made my jaw clench.

"Hope you don't mind."

"This area is closed to guests after nine,"

I managed, my voice strained.

"There are liability issues, and the noise disturbs guests in the rooms below—"

"Tristan,"

Juniper said.

"We promise to be quiet. If you let us."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say. "Let you?"

"Mm, of course," she said.

"We wouldn't do anything forbidden without your permission."

My breathing hitched as she settled more tightly against him, her movements creating new ripples that caught the light. Even through the water's distortion, the lights in the pool revealed everything. I could see the way their bodies fit together, the hard shadow of his cock.

This was wrong. Inappropriate. Against every rule I'd ever been taught. I couldn't give them permission.

But I also couldn't look away.

I gritted my teeth as I fought back primal, inappropriate urges. Because the truth was, I wanted to watch them fuck, almost as much as I wanted to rip off my clothing and join them in the pool. I met her eyes and gave one brief nod.

That was all it took for her to feel satisfied she had my consent, and she turned back to him. Their bodies were backlit by a bulb built into the wall just beside him, and it highlighted every detail as she reached under water and stroke him in a way that made him groan. I watched the moment when she took him inside her. She shifted in his lap, reaching between them to guide his cock into her pussy, sinking down slowly.

Her face changed as she took him inside herself. The pure bliss that crossed her features made my knees weak, and I had to grip the back of the chair even tighter to keep from surging forward and joining them, forcing my cock between her softly parted lips and showing her what it felt like to take two men at once.

"That's it,"

Marco encouraged, his voice rough with desire.

"Ride me just like that. Show Tristan what you need. Do you want him, too?"

I tightened my grip on the chair to stop my hand from roaming between my legs. I couldn't possibly jerk off to a pair of hotel patrons in our pool. That would be beyond absurd.

"Yes,"

she whined.

"He's so beautiful. I want him inside me."

My vision blurred at the edges as blood rushed south, leaving me dizzy and aching. The veins in my forearms stood out in sharp relief where I gripped the wooden door chair, like it was the only thing that might tether me to sanity.

Juniper's movements were becoming more urgent now, her hips rolling against Marco's in a rhythm that made the water splash gently against the pool's edges. Her breasts swayed with each motion, and I found myself memorizing the way the underwater lights played across her skin, the way her wild curls moved as she threw her head back in pleasure.

"Please, Tristan,"

she breathed, her eyes finding mine across the water. "Oh fuck."

My name on her lips was like a punch to the gut. It was like a prayer, like something sacred and secret had spilled out. Her fantasy included me, and there was nothing more I wanted in that moment than to indulge her. I held onto the last threads of my restraint with everything I had.

Juniper's pace increased, her breathing becoming shallow and quick. I saw the tension building in her body, watched the way pleasure painted itself across her features in real time. She was close, riding the edge of orgasm while staring straight at me like I was the key to her release.

Her climax hit like a storm breaking. Her back arched completely out of the water, a cry of pure ecstasy tearing from her throat as her body convulsed against Marco's.

The sight of her coming undone, naked and sensual and utterly without shame, nearly destroyed what little sanity I had left. My cock was so hard it was leaking pre-cum, and I could feel it making a mess of my boxer briefs, my hands shaking where they gripped the chair, my breathing reduced to harsh pants that fogged in the cool night air.

For one wild moment, I almost gave in. Almost shed my jacket and tie and dove into that steaming water to claim what they were offering. I almost let myself believe that some things were indeed more important than rules.

But as Juniper's orgasm crested and began to ebb, cold reality crashed back over me like an ice bath. This was my hotel. My responsibility. My reputation on the line if anyone discovered the CEO skinny-dipping with naked guests after hours.

I took a step backward, then another, my legs unsteady beneath me.

"This cannot happen again,"

I said, my voice hoarse with strain and denied desire.

"The spa closes at nine. That rule exists for a reason. Please clean up and leave before I send security up."

Before either of them could respond, I turned and walked away on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else.