Lyra's POV
Water dripped from his dark hair as he swept it away from his forehead, rivulets cascading down the strong line of his jaw and throat. His soaked shirt molded itself against every sculpted muscle of his torso, creating a view that made my pulse quicken and my breath catch.
"Look what you've done to our clothes," he murmured, his tone carrying mock disapproval while his eyes sparkled with unmistakable heat. "They're completely soaked because of your little stunt."
I swept my own dripping hair back, unable to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. "There are towels in the pool house." I nodded toward the small building nearby. "We'll manage just fine."
He glided through the water toward me with predatory grace, each movement calculated and smooth. "You know what people say about wet clothing."
"What's that?"
"It peels away so much more easily."
Despite the warmth spreading through my core, I managed an eye roll. "That was absolutely cheesy."
