It’d never been this.
Why had she brought it up at all? Nerves. The bane of her existence when it came to sex. That’s what Colin used to say, anyway. Maybe Montand would end up telling her the same thing—
His arms came around her, sending her thoughts scattering. Instinctively, she embraced him back, her arms looping around his waist. With one open hand, he caressed the side of her from hip to just under her upraised arm, his palm skimming the side of her bare breast. She trembled.
“Do you feel that?” he asked quietly, his mouth very close to her ear. His hand moved ever so slightly, and she shivered again.
“Yes,” she breathed out against his chest.
His hand lowered and joined its mate just below her waist. He dipped his knees and aligned her against him. She felt him throbbing, full and vibrant, next to her lower belly.
“And that?” His dark tone sent another shudder of excitement through her.
“Yes,” she whispered, her hands clutching at his taut waist. She strained against him, feeling his shape through their clothing. A lump formed in her throat. He felt so good. So exciting.
“That’s all that matters. What happens when we’re together. No one else. Nothing else,” he rasped before he kissed her ear persuasively, and she shuddered in mounting excitement.
His hands cupped her ass. She suppressed a whimper when he pushed her against him, clearly as eager to feel her shape as she was to feel his.
“It doesn’t matter how much experience either one of us has,” he continued hoarsely as he kissed her temple. “All that matters is you and me, and what feels right. What feels good.” His hands swept up over her naked back and sides again, his manner more forceful, kneading her muscles, his hunger clearly mounting. “The way you feel is new to me.”
“It . . . it is?” she asked in amazement.
“You make me almost feel new, too. Almost . . .”
She suppressed a whimper, stunned, moved by the quiet intensity of his tone. She wanted to thank him for the unusual compliment, but his mouth covered hers. Her returned kiss spoke for her. Or at least she hoped it did.
Their hands moved while they tasted each other, unbuttoning, undressing, pausing every once in a while out of necessity to remove jeans and shoes and socks.
Finally Emma was completely naked, her bare feet sinking into the cool sand, her arms empty. He knelt before her, removing his final remnants of clothing, but then he rose, a large, solid mass in front of her. Her heart jumped against her breastbone when he spread his hand at her waist.
“Come here,” he said gruffly. She went to him at that arousing, increasingly familiar bidding.
She closed her eyes, wonder and need sweeping through her when she felt his hard, naked body press against her in the darkness. He swept back her hair with one hand and cradled her head in that claiming manner that always made her breathless. His fingers fisting her hair, he pulled gently and her chin went back. He pressed his hot, open mouth to her pulse, tasting her, his lips moving sensually on her skin. She arched against a wall of solid, ridged muscle, her breasts crushing against his lower chest. His cock leapt against her lower belly and hip like a living thing, the size and weight of him thrilling. Intimidating.
But it
was only pure disappointment she felt when he brushed his fingers down her arm, his hot mouth still against her neck, and took her hand in his. He stepped away.
“Let’s get in,” he said.
She followed his slow pace. “Careful,” he directed as they made their way to the water, and she knew why he’d warned her. The sand from the city beach had blown here, but small rocks intermixed with it. His hold on her was steady, though, even when the surf swept across her feet and she started.
“Oh my God, it’s so cold!” she blurted out.
He chuckled. “It’s Lake Michigan. It’s always cold. You’ll get used to it.”
His hand tightened around hers and she followed him unerringly. She could barely see anything. Her skin actually hurt from the goose bumps covering it, and there was an uncomfortable pressure growing in her stomach as her body protested against the rising cold and the eerie blackness in front of her. She instinctively followed him, however, trusting the feeling of his firm, warm grip even more than her body’s primal urging for warmth and safety.
A wave lapped against her belly. She shrieked at the unpleasant jolting sensation, and then snorted with laughter. Impulsively she let go of his hand and plunged into the darkness. Cold encapsulated her, the tingling sensation in her flesh blending with her bubbling excitement. She swam blindly for a few moments, then surfaced.
“It feels fantastic!” she called out breathlessly. Her feet searched for the bottom. She’d swum out farther than she’d thought. She began to tread water automatically.
“Emma, come back here.”
She blinked, her euphoria slightly dimmed by the tension in his deep voice. Maybe he was right. She was an okay swimmer, but nothing great—
“Emma?”