It’d been two years. Two damn years, and whatever options existed for breaking her drought, they did not get better than this.
A smoking hot guy who wouldn’t expect more than a single night, because that’s what he did. One chance to hit that and then they’d both move on.
Something deep in her brain tried to speak up, but her blood pounded too hard for her to hear it.
Take what he’s offering, because he’s sure as hell offering.
Mason dove back in. Gemma swam away, but only half-heartedly now, teasing more than fleeing. When he did get up behind her, he caught her bikini top strap and pulled.
She spun in the water. “Are you snapping my bra strap, Morelli? How old are you?”
That blazing grin again, before he dove under. She took off, but he caught up in a few strokes and twanged the strap from underwater.
“You…” she sputtered when he surfaced. “I can fix that, you know.”
She reached back, undid the clasp, and pulled the top half off, waving it over her head. “There, like to see you snap it now.”
His grin lit her on fire. He swam at her, and she paused just a second before diving herself. One second, the bikini top was in her hand… and the next it wasn’t.
She broke through to see him holding her top over his head. She swam over and grabbed for it but couldn’t reach. He swam backward, waving it.
“The perils of being short,” he said. “It’s even worse in the water. Nothing to climb on.”
“So you say.” She swam up and braced her foot on his thigh, then she grabbed his shoulders and launched herself up. At thelast moment, she realized this brought her breasts out of the water… and decided she didn’t care.
After a definite ogle, he whipped the bikini top backward, out of her reach, except it kept going, flying from his hand.
“Shit!” he said, eyes widening.
She dove after it at the same time he did, and they collided. By the time they untangled, laughing, the top was nowhere to be seen. They both swam, looking for it, to no avail.
“I did not mean to do that,” Mason said, panting slightly as they paused the search.
“I know. Damn second glass of champagne. I shouldn’t have taken that top off.”
“I wouldn’t go that far…”
She swatted at him. He caught her hand and pulled her to him, and she went, his arms wrapping around her, the heat of his body radiating through the cooling water. Her bare breasts pressed into his chest, and she lifted her face to his. His mouth came down on hers, hot and hungry, and she fell into that kiss, barely aware of her legs wrapping around him, his hands dropping to cup her ass.
It was only when water filled her nose that she realized there was one problem with kissing while swimming. Neither of them was actually still swimming.
She broke the kiss, laughing. Then she wriggled from his arms and swam away. He came after her, grabbed her leg, and pulled her back, flipping her over into another kiss that made her forget she didn’t know how to breathe underwater.
Again, she swam away. Again, he caught up. Again, holy shit, this guy could kiss. Again, holy shit, they were drowning.
Another laugh, another escape and paddle, and the next time hecaught her, she was hanging off the boat ladder. She hooked one arm through the rope for support and let herself fall back, legs around his hips, his hands behind her back, pulling her to him, his mouth on hers, driving every possible thought from her head.
Was it possible to have sex hanging off a boat ladder? Even her romance-writer imagination hadn’t considered that one, but right now, she was ready to do the research. She pressed into him, making him groan, and his hands slipped up to her breasts.
They kissed for just long enough to make her wonder whether she needed to take the initiative here, show she was clearly ready for more. Then he broke the kiss, his lips sliding to her breast, the heat unbelievable on her ocean-chilled skin. She bent back into the boat and let herself fall into pure sensation, as a little voice whispered,Foreplay. Right. There is a step between kissing and penetration. She’d forgotten that. A low chuckle started in her chest, becoming a rough moan by the time it reached her lips.
Okay, the man had not lied. He knew what he was doing, and if he kept doing it, she was going to have to admit that something she’d thought existed only in romance novels—coming from having your breasts teased—was actually possible. Very possible.Holy shit.
She arched back, writhing and panting and—
And he eased away, not breaking contact, but his tongue circling wider. She whimpered and twisted, trying to get him back where he’d been, but his lips only continued downward.
Over her torso, down her stomach, his hands moving to her ass and then boosting her up higher before he ended up underwater. She chuckled at that and shifted up the ladder until her shoulders were on the deck. Then a tug, and her bikini bottoms were off,hitting the deck beside her. He lifted her higher, his tongue on her inner thighs, white hot against her chilled skin.
