Chapter 21

The rooftop was deserted on paper: gate locked, camera feed looping yesterday’s sunset, the city a glittering shrug forty floors below. Steam ghosted off the water, licking the edges of lounge chairs and curling around the single feature already in the pool.

Dani floated on her back, arms out, neon-pink bikini top knotted loosely enough that the weight of her breasts threatened the bow with every slow breath. Water beaded on her collarbones, slid down the sweep of her sternum, disappeared into the shadow between curves that rose and fell with the gentle lap of the pool. Her abs – still tight from two hours of choreography – cut subtle lines beneath the surface, disappearing into the low-rise bottoms the colour of wet asphalt. Moonlight silvered the tiny scar on her left hip, the one she got climbing a speaker stack at rehearsal; tonight it looked like a secret invitation.

“Took you long enough.” she called, voice echoing off glass railings. “Thought I’d have to start the show without you.”

The stairwell door clicked. You stepped out, towel slung over one shoulder, black bikini strings crisscrossing sun-warm skin. The top was nothing more than triangles held by wishful thinking, the bottoms high-cut enough to expose the soft hollow where thigh met hip. Your hair – still damp from the shower – hung in dark ropes, ends brushing the small of your back.

Dani’s gaze tracked every stride, pupils widening like a lens adjusting to light.

“Traffic on the elevator. Some guy wanted an autograph – wrong band, wrong girl.”

Her gaze dragged down the black bikini that was more string than fabric. “Looks like the right girl to me.”

You dropped your towel, let her look: the slope of your shoulders, the way your waist nipped in before flaring into hips Dani had mapped with her mouth a hundred times. The pool light painted shifting shards across your stomach, highlighting the faint definition you’d earned over the past couple years.

You dove, barely rippling the surface, and came up between her spread legs.

Water slicked your hair back; droplets clung to your lashes like rhinestones. Dani’s hands found your waist automatically, thumbs brushing the sharp jut of hipbones. The touch was feather-light, but you felt it everywhere – nipples tightening against cool air, core clenching in anticipatory heat.

“Cold?” she murmured.

“Not anymore,” you answered.

“And here I thought this pool was heated. You’re the only thing raising the temperature tonight.”

“Flattery will get you anywhere Avanzini.” You flicked a droplet at her nose. “Starting with this tile wall,” you said, pushing her backward until her shoulders met the tiled edge.

The pool was chest-deep here; buoyancy made your bodies weightless, friction-less. Dani hooked her ankles behind your knees, locking you close. Your breasts brushed hers, the thin layers of wet fabric doing nothing to dull the hard points. She arched, just enough to drag that knot across your skin – once, twice – until you exhaled a shaky sound that disappeared into the night.

You tasted chlorine and the mint gum she’d chewed on stage, but underneath was pure Dani – salt, adrenaline, the faint vanilla of the body oil she used to remove glitter. Your tongue traced the seam of her lips, asking; hers answered with a slow roll that made your head spin. When you nipped her bottom lip, she rewarded you with a low growl that vibrated straight through your sternum.

Her palms slid down, cupping the curve of your ass beneath the water, squeezing just hard enough to lift you an inch. The shift lined your hips perfectly; the seam of her bikini bottoms rode exactly where you needed more pressure. A slow grind – no rush, just the lazy rock of tide against shore – sent sparks travelling up your spine. You echoed the motion, rolling forward, and felt her stomach muscles flutter under your palm.

Dani’s breath hitched. She dipped her head, mouth tracing the line where your neck met shoulder, tongue flicking the tiny hollow that always made you shiver.

Water lapped at your collarbones, then at the swell of your breasts as her kisses descended. 

One strap slipped; she didn’t fix it. Instead she closed her teeth gently over the slope, biting just hard enough to leave a faint mark that would bloom purple by breakfast.

You retaliated by sliding a hand between your bodies, fingertips tracing the defined ridge of her abs down to the knotted bow at her hip. One tug and the knot gave; the loose ends floated like dark ribbon. She tilted, eyes dark in the underwater lights, waiting.

You paused – then retied it even tighter, leaning in to whisper, “Not yet.”

A frustrated sound rumbled in her chest. She spun you, reversing positions so your back pressed against the tile. Her thigh slipped between yours, muscle hard under soft skin.

The pressure was perfect – slow, controlled slides that dragged slick fabric exactly where you ached. Each roll sent water sloshing against the gutter, the only audible rhythm besides your mangled breath.

Your hands mapped her shoulders, the defined caps she earned lifting herself endlessly into choreography, then down the long slope of her back to the dimples above her bikini line.

You dug in lightly, urging her closer; she answered by bracing both palms on the edge behind you, caging you in. Drops slid from her jaw and fell on your chest which traced the valley between your breasts before the pool claimed them.

*

Somewhere below, a door creaked. Lara’s voice floated: “Left my headset- oh.”

Footsteps paused. “Carry on. I’ll guard the stairwell like a merch table.”

You buried your laugh in Dani’s hair. “Audience of one.”

“Let her stan.” Dani muttered against your skin. “We’re sold out.”

You tugged her hair until her eyes met yours. “Inside. Real bed. Rainfall shower. Pick one – fast.”

“Shower first,” she decided. “I want you wet twice.”

She set you on the pool edge, water streaming off both of you like liquid spotlights.

You snatched her towel, snapped it playfully. “Lead the way, headliner.”

She grabbed your hand, interlacing fingers. “Only if you promise backup vocals.”

You leaned in, voice a sultry whisper. “I’ll harmonise – but I get the final verse.”

“Deal,” she said, and pulled you toward the stairwell, leaving the pool to steam in your wake – already humming the next song only the two of you would ever hear.

———-

I fear I’ve most definitely committed a sin writing this one…

But it was too good not to 😉