Wild Side (Dark Side Series: Book 2)

Four

"Dear Fellow Traveler" by Sea Wolf !

After dragging myself through airports and into taxis and navigating complex conversations in Portuguese, a language my clumsy tongue rolled over like a pig through mud, I didn't have the energy to gasp and punch the man at my back. His voice though, a mellow baritone too easy on the ears, too familiar to be a threat, had me relaxing against his chest. 

"Luciano," I said, turning my head to glimpse the dark-haired man, the swimmer who'd rescued me from the ocean, and at this point, the closest thing I had to a friend in this city by the sea. 

"The one and only," he agreed, gently plucking the wine from my hand. He took a sip, wrinkled his nose, then handed it back. "You have got to have better than this dyed water." 

"Pardon me for not popping the cork on something more vintage. I wasn't expecting any company," I said, pulling away from him. With the glass balanced in one hand, I rested the other on my hip and gave him a grumpy frown. "Why're you in my house? It's not like I have fish to feed."

Luciano patted the pocket of his slim jeans. "Luiza called. Apparently Mila needs her art supplies for school tomorrow and she forgot them at the house last week. Told her I'd swing by and grab 'em for her. Thought there was a thief, until I realized it was you pouring wine in your underwear."

"Not that you're complaining?" I replied. 

He took the opportunity to give me a slow once-over. Luciano, a being Zakar classified as Boto Encantado, came from a line of rather infamous womanizers. In the scintillating paradise that was Brazil, he had all the luck in the world on his side and the looks to match. He was a man of slightly above average height, with broad shoulders and a chest that sloped nicely into a slim waist. If that wasn't enough to give a gal pause, his striking blue eyes sealed the deal. Encantado were rumored to be beautiful men, but Luc seemed an exceptional specimen of carefree masculinity. Maybe that was because he was the only one I'd had the pleasure of meeting. He had thick black hair that curled past his shoulders, sun-kissed skin and a rich warm accent. Listening to him speak, let alone sing, was like wrapping yourself in a silk sweater.

The man tugged at the hem of his bright blue t-shirt. In one swift motion it'd be on the floor and my sensibilities would be gone with it. I tugged the shirt back over his belt. "Hear that? I asked, cupping my ear.

He leaned his head close to mine. "What?"

"That's the sound of a bath calling my name." Taking a sip of my drink, I trotted down the hall.

A moment later, his glittering eyes peeked around the bathroom corner. "Awfully small for two," he observed. "And there's too much water."

"Haha." I shut the water off and tested the temperatures with my fingers. Perfect.

Brushing the hair off his shoulder, he rested his head on the door and smiled. "I was planning on running over tonight, but now that you're here—"

"—now that I'm here, you can leave."

He crossed his arms in feigned affront. "I was going to say,  maybe I'll bring Mila her watercolors at sunup." 

"Fine by me," I said, "but just so you know, the only thing I'm doing tonight is climbing in this tub."

"Or we could go to the ocean. Listen to the waves, bask in the moonlight..." He trailed off in that alluring singsong voice of his. If my legs weren't so dead, I'd have been sorely tempted to take him up on the offer.

"My legs don't even want to walk twelve steps to the pool. The last thing they want is to kick around waves." 

"I could carry you," he said, gesturing me closer. I set the wine on the sink and wrapped my arms around his neck.