w her head back to look up through the leafy branches of the tree. Sunlight dappled dark green leaves, which formed an intriguing pattern against the blue sky. “I love it.”
Josh grinned smugly. He dropped his shoes onto the cushiony undergrowth and sauntered toward her. Pushing her away, he sat down on the wooden seat.
“I thought this was supposed to be my surprise,” she said petulantly.
“It is. You sit on my lap.” He patted his bare thighs.
“I can't swing like that. I'll fall off.”
“No, you won't.”
Grudgingly she moved forward and, turning her back to him, plopped down on his lap. For a moment he didn't say anything. When he did, it was with the utmost derision.
“Megan?”
“Yes?”
“You're right. You'd fall off that way. Turn around.”
She sprang off him and whirled around. “You mean f-facing you?”
He pointed an index finger at her and closed one eye. “Now you get the picture.”
Her eyes wouldn't obey her command that she not look down at his lap. Unerringly her gaze went to it. She swallowed a knot of apprehension. Just as she'd thought, his damp shorts clung tightly, making his sex blatantly apparent.
“Megan.” He said her name softly yet so compellingly that she raised her eyes to his. She felt herself shrinking, becoming the size of her reflection in his eyes. The gold irises enfolded her, surrounded her, and she was inside him. Moving like one entranced, she stepped forward. With his guidance she placed first one leg, then the other, over his, until she sat on his thighs, facing him.
“Put your arms around my neck and hold on,” he told her. As if in a dream, she obeyed. The muscles of his arms flexed as he took hold of the ropes. She felt the contraction of his muscles beneath her thighs as he took backward steps. He went as far back as he could go, until his body was straight and at a sharp angle. She held on to him tightly as his toes barely touched the ground.
“Ready?” he asked.
Exhilarated, she shouted, “Yes!”
He lifted his feet and they swooped through the air. Their laughter and cries of joy flushed a family of blue jays from its nest in the tree. One jay squawked angrily at them, but the wild beating of their hearts drowned him out.
When they swung outward, Josh's chest came forward to give them propulsion on the way down. Each time it came in contact with Megan's, she thrilled at the touch. Her damp T-shirt was stretched taut, providing him with a dazzling display of her breasts. The peaked tips were prominent evidence of her excitement.
On the backward arc, he leaned back and she hovered over him for timeless moments. During those suspended pended seconds, gravity pushed her forward until his masculinity was snugly tucked between her thighs.
The seesawing motion of their bodies sent all her senses into one melting cauldron of desire. The boiling emotions scattered her reason. She caught a handful of Josh's hair with one hand. Her ankles crossed behind his hips. Their eyes transmitted messages of passion until unbearable heat consumed them both.
When Josh let them begin to coast down, his mouth fastened onto hers. His arms were still holding the ropes, but even without their urging, she scooted higher up his body and pressed her breasts to his bare chest. They glided to earth slowly, but Megan's soul was still soaring.
At last the swing came to a complete standstill. Only then did Josh let go of the ropes and wrap his arms around her, one around her shoulders and the other around her hips.
His eyes remained closed as he rested his forehead against hers and breathed deeply. “My Megan,” he whispered. Her lips drifted over his hard cheek, tangy with salt from the ocean. He spoke so quietly that she had to strain to hear him. “The night you married James, I thought I'd go mad.”
Eight
Megan's heart seemed about to leap from her chest with its pounding. Wordlessly, motionlessly, they clung to each other. She didn't credit her ears with what she'd heard him say, but she couldn't help the riot of emotions that they incited.
At long last he raised his head and looked at her bleakly. “I got stinking drunk and stayed that way for about three days, living on drafts of whiskey taken at regular intervals.”
“You were at the wedding.” She didn't recognize the frail voice as her own.
“Yes. Sitting there listening to you promise to become another man's wife, to be for him all that that word entails.” Balancing them on the narrow wooden swing seat, he lifted one hand to her face. With an exquisitely light touch, his index finger charted her face. “I don't know how I kept still and let it happen. Lord knows I wanted to run to the front of that church, steal you away from him, and take you for myself.”
She rested her cheek against his palm and closed her eyes. “You knew I was getting married when we met. You knew that when you followed me out to the summerhouse.”