His voice is husky when he says, “Thank you.Maybe over dinner, you could tell me everything you found out.”
I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, and his eyes close momentarily.“I’d like that.”
It’s me who initiates the kiss.Because his skin is gorgeous in the sunlight, his half-smile is too much of a temptation, and I mean, he’s right there.It would be criminal not to, right?Right.Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
I join my mouth to his, and he grips the sides of my face, taking full advantage of the kiss.
We get a bit carried away, tongues stroking softly and languidly over each other, small nips, and stifled moans.When we break apart, he coughs and adjusts himself.Then he steps away, removes his sunglasses from his shirt, peels off said shirt, and drops both into his bag.
If I thought I was a mess over him before, it’s nothing compared to the intense simmering heat that lights inside my body.Because holy hell, this man.His chest is glorious.The definition in his chest and arms.The dark treasure trail.The sun on his olive skin.The tattoos.They just do it for me.
He starts on his belt next, and my attention is absorbed in the sight and sound it makes as he opens it and then unbuttons his jeans.
Am I frozen in place and staring?
Yes, yes, I am.
He takes off his hiking boots and socks and then pushes down his jeans, revealing dark gray boxer briefs.It’s at this point that he laughs, smiles a full smile.“Are we swimming to cool off or are you just going to eye fuck me all day?”
“I’m not—”
“You are.I’m not complaining.You wanna eye fuck me, you can go right ahead.Do it as long as you like.”He spreads his arms wide and wades into the water, and I watch the muscles dance over his back as he moves.The massive tattoo of his colors is incredibly sexy.
Doubly so when he turns, sinks into the water, and rises out of it dripping wet.He rakes his hair back and swipes water from his face.
Mary, Mother of God.Is he doing this on purpose?
Then he splashes me.Fucking splashes me.“You getting in or what?”
I fling the droplets off my arm and glare at him.He keeps walking backward, getting farther and farther away with each step.
“What if I said I couldn’t swim?”
“Can you?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s a yes.”
“Okay, yes.”
He eyes me critically.“Then what is it?”
I know.And maybe he does, too, and that’s why he picked this place, this adventure, this perfect day.If I get in that water, this relationship changes.Because there is no fucking way I walk away from it without touching him and vice versa.
So what does he do?
He fucking bawks.Like a chicken.It starts low and soft, but gradually increases in volume.
Motherfucker.Nervous energy spirals through me as I fumble to take off my top.Shuck my shorts.Step out of my shoes.I’m tempted to ball up my stinky socks and throw them at him, but I refrain, barely.
He doesn’t look away.Instead, he stands chest deep in the water and watches me enter the lake
in nothing but a baby-blue string bikini.I take the band out of my hair and run my fingers through it until it falls in loose waves.
He mutters a curse under his breath and rubs his hand over his chest.
I smirk and cautiously make my way around the rocks and into the lake.
