Her thigh and hip were pressed very tight against his solid length. His arm encircled her, pulling her even tighter. She looked up, all amusement vanished, knowing she’d find him in the darkness. His mouth closed over hers. She abandoned herself to the moment, to the rushing, cool wind and his hot kiss. She felt herself heating even more, softening against his solid length.
He broke the kiss, but she craned toward him, a bee to honey.
“How about a swim?” he asked her gruffly, nibbling and plucking at her mouth in a highly distracting manner.
“What?” she mumbled, her lips sliding against his, shaping them hungrily to her own. She couldn’t get en
ough of his scent. His taste. His texture. Her fingers sunk into his hair, stroking and then fisting the thick waves greedily. Was this what people meant when they talked about a grand passion? No wonder they were known to do crazy things for love. Or lust, in her case. Under this mesmerizing influence, loved ones were sacrificed, kingdoms fell, pride and honor were forsaken. Yes, she could almost believe it while she was under the spell of his kiss. Having never experienced this dizzying rush of heat and need, Emma had always been a little skeptical it existed until now.
He stroked the skin of her bare arm, and she shivered.
It existed, all right. In spades.
“Do you want to take a swim?” he repeated patiently, his long fingers touching the edge of her blouse, and then burrowing beneath it, sliding against the skin of her shoulder. It was a relatively innocent caress, but the way he did it made her become even more warm and damp between her thighs.
“Um . . . okay,” she replied breathlessly. She wasn’t exactly sure what was expected of her. She’d never taken a midnight swim with a man like him before, a swim that was the prelude to sex. She’d never done something so impulsive and sexy, period.
He stood, pulling her up next to him. The side of his hand brushed her breast, and her breath caught. He began to unbutton her blouse. His hands moving against her skin as he deftly undressed her sent the swooping butterflies in her stomach into frantic mode. He paused just below her belly button as if he’d actually felt them fluttering frantically.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his warm breath brushing her hairline.
“Yes,” she said hastily. He remained still. “I’ve just . . . never done this before.”
She felt him stiffen. “Never done what?” he asked, and she heard tension harden his tone.
“Gone swimming in the lake naked?” The silence made her a little desperate. “With . . . with someone like you?”
“Someone like me?” His fingers resumed their journey downward, and she sighed in relief.
“Someone so . . .” She gulped when he swept back both sides of her blouse and the lake breeze hit her bare skin. “Wait . . . are you looking for a compliment?”
His low, rich laughter was delicious.
“Maybe. It might be nice, hearing one from you,” he said.
“I complimented you up there. On the bluff,” she reminded him distractedly. The warm fingers of one hand had slid beneath the back of her bra strap, making a ripple of pleasure go through her. Her nipples pulled tight. Her bra seemed to snap open as if by magic at his mere touch.
“You’re very good at that,” she said doubtfully, referring to his bra maneuvering.
“That wasn’t the compliment I was aiming for. Besides, from your tone, it might have been an insult,” he said as he drew the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, his light touch on her skin making her shiver. It took her a moment to register the wry humor in his tone.
“It wasn’t an insult,” she said as the cups of her bra evaporated into the darkness and the light breeze licked and swirled against her sensitive bare breasts. “But as for my tone, it sort of gets to the point.”
His large hands settled on her bare shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring, and somehow forbidden and electrically exciting at once. “Speak English, Emma,” he said, sounding less amused this time as his hands swept down her arms and back up again, as if he experimented with the feeling of her. She firmed her resolve, as difficult as it was to do with his warm, strong hands moving over her naked skin.
“I don’t have all that much experience, and it seems like you do.”
His hands paused in their exploration on her shoulder blades.
“Experience could mean a lot of different things,” he finally said warily.
“I know. Just forget it. It’s only . . . I wanted you to know I don’t usually fool around with men I’ve known for a week. In fact, I’ve only ever been with . . . you know,” she muttered, her cheeks starting to boil. Thank goodness for the darkness. She didn’t want to say Colin’s name out loud. She was already ruining the spontaneity of the moment as it was.
“And you were with Colin for two years,” he said, understanding and something that sounded like relief seeping into his tone.
“And it was never sex on the beach,” Emma admitted, wondering if he’d intuit the manifold meaning behind the words sex on the beach. It’d never been crazy or raunchy or a spur-of-the-moment impulse. Sex had never been extremely bad or mind-blowingly good for her. It’d been nice sometimes, a little trying others.
It’d never been scary or beautiful or heart-pounding-in-your-ears wild.