I’ll burn them before you wear them for anyone else. That is the totally out of bounds chaos going on in my head. And no way can I let it come out of my mouth. “I’m saving you from putting them on for a guy like that—and being disappointed.”
She presses her nose—her cute, perfect little nose—right up against mine. “Who I wear them for is none of your business.”
I’m rapidly forgetting my firm resolution to keep a safe distance. To treat her less like a desirable woman and more like a part of the investigation. My brain is firing off warning signals, trying to remind me what happens when I stop being objective. I’m feeling too many things at once when it comes to her and I don’t know how to subdue something this urgent.
What makes it worse is she likes the rougher side of me. Asked for it by name last night. She’s all but inviting it out of me with her glazed eyes right this very second. They’re glued to my mouth, her fingertips tracing the cuts of my abs.
“That so?” I press my lips tighter to hers. Flush. So we’re trading breaths in a rush. “Get that mouth away from me before I fuck it again.”
Her intake of breath is reedy. It’s followed by a trembling moan. And I’m screwed.
I’m so beyond screwed.
And I’m almost angry about how thoroughly she sways me. Tempts me. I gather the front straps of her life jacket in my hands and yank the woman up onto her toes, her gasp bathing my lips and I just look at her. Look into her eyes and try and figure out what the fuck is so different about her. Which turns out to be a big mistake. Huge. Because she doesn’t even blink. She lets me look and doesn’t flinch away from the intimacy, the way I’ve always done. To avoid a situation where my guard will have to come down. No, she shows me she’s not afraid of it and dares me to come join her, even as her pulse races in her neck. That’s only one of the things that makes her different—her vulnerable courage—and like I said, I’m screwed.
Because her mouth is ripe and slick and pouty. And I know what kind of pleasure it gives when she’s turned on. I’m erect, balls heavy, sweat rolling down my spine. I couldn’t stop my mouth from raking side to side across her sweeter one if I had the willpower of ten thousand men. With a groan from deep in the recesses of my chest, I stop trying to fight the need that is simply too great. Still looking her in the eye, I unbuckle her life jacket and throw it down into the water. The rash guard is pulled off and thrown aside, leaving her tits out, covered by nylon triangles. God, she’s sexy. I want her. Need her. Without the impediments between us, she just sort of melts into me, my hands delving into her bikini bottoms, clutching her buns and throwing her up against me.
We dive into a kiss as she lands, her thighs hugging my waist, and the relief of having her as close as I need her staggers me back a step. And my driving hunger demands that I untie my board shorts and finish what we started last night. Just give her the business right here in knee-deep water, fast and furious and necessary. But then she mewls against my mouth, our tongues stroke together and we sink into a real kiss, the kind we’ve been dancing around without following through and my knees…my fucking knees turn to jelly.
What is happening here?
I don’t know. I’m too busy stealing as much of her taste as I can get. I’m greedy. I’m desperate. Twisting her lips with mine, right then left, my tongue occupying her mouth over and over again, with possession, with familiarity, growling when her heels dig into my ass and she climbs higher on my body, nails scoring my scalp, my back. It’s a kiss more personal, more intimate than sex, at least any kind I’ve ever had and I physically cannot stop. She’s so sweet. So addicting and…she’s a match for something inside of me, as scary as that is to admit. But I don’t have time to come to terms with it right now. Now when her taste is apples and ocean air and vanilla. And her pussy rides up and down against the aching ridge in my shorts, unconscious, hungry movements that I urge on with my tight handfuls of her ass.
“I’ve got a rubber in my wallet,” I rasp when we break away, sucking down lungfuls of air. “We using it, sweetheart? Am I using it to give you a pounding?”
“Yes. Yes.” She kisses my jaw, my mouth, nails digging into my shoulders. “Then maybe I can go back to making smart decisions.”
Those words, spoken on a sawing inhale an exhale, twist a screwdriver between my ribs, even though I completely understand where she’s coming from and I can’t be mad at her. Couldn’t fathom being angry with her right now, even if she sucker punched me. Not when she’s clinging to me, giving me trust I’m not sure I’ve earned. I’m powerless to do anything but worship her. God, I just want to worship her.