0758215630 (R) (26 page)

April lived in her skin with a grace that beguiled him, always holding her shoulders straight and using her tall, strong body with unapologetic confidence. It was a body he knew and wanted to know again—and again. Like he wanted to hear her laugh, give him a hard time, and look at him with that take-no-prisoners look she was so damn good at. April was all woman. All his woman . . .

She took his breath away. He shook his head.
Sap.
Had to be if he was thinking words like goddamn
beguiled.

Sap or no, he didn’t take his eyes off her. His heart pounded, his muscles, nerves, and skin vibrated from wanting her.
This is nuts.
He rested both hands on the railing, breathed deep, held fast, and rolled his head. He was full of her and empty of her—and it made him animal-crazy.

In that instant, seeing her lit by wavy pool lights and midnight shade, he was absolutely certain of one thing: He wanted her now—and he’d want her on every tomorrow to come.

Was it love? Shit, he had no idea. He didn’t know love, didn’t know what to expect from it. All he knew was there was an elephant on his chest, and it didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.

He was still looking down, sorting through whatever it was he was feeling, when she looked up and saw him.

She smiled immediately—did that gimme thing with her hand like she did when she wanted his credit card—and cocked her head. As invitations went, it would do.

When he got there, she was sitting in the same place at the edge of the pool, but she’d put a towel under her butt and left enough of it beside her for him to sit on.

Joe, wearing a sleeveless Tee and shorts, took his place beside her and put his feet in the cool water. Cool as it was, he knew Julius had turned on the heat for his guests, because while he swam in it winter to summer, he never heated it.

Leaning back on her hands, April smiled at him. “I was coming to you,” she said. “I just wanted to ease up first.”

“And I was waiting for you.”

Looking pleased at that, she nodded and looked away. Despite her swim, he saw her tension still lingered.

“It’s going to be all right, you know,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

She turned to look at him again. “I know,” she said, sounding more certain than she looked. “And it was good to hear Phylly’s voice tonight, confirm that she was okay. Now if I can just get Tomm—”

He pushed her into the pool and followed—in time to be there when she came up sputtering. “What was that?” he asked, feigning innocence and holding her by the waist. “I didn’t quite get it.”

She sputtered some more, then grinned at him. “That was mean.”

“That was a distraction. If I can’t get you into my bed, dunking you in the pool was my next best shot.”

She put her hands on his shoulders while they both treaded water. “I worry too much, don’t I?”

About his wild and selfish mother? Absolutely. But he wasn’t going to say that. “Yeah,” he said, his hands squeezing her waist. “So how about another distraction. Three laps, length of the pool, and the winner gets to be on top?”

“On top of what?” she asked, not even trying to look innocent.

“Whatever—and whoever—strikes their fancy.”

“I think that’s a win-win scenario.”

“That’s the idea.”

She tightened her grip on his shoulders, looked perplexed. “You really hate to talk about things, don’t you?”

“I hate to worry about things that I can’t do anything about—until they’re in my face.”

“Like tomorrow.”

He nodded.

She paused before answering then, as though making up her mind, she said, “You’re right. About that and the distraction.” Her beautiful face turned impish. “Make it two laps, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Fair enough.”

“And one other thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’d very much like to win.” She gave him a shot of pure sex from her green eyes. “I could use a good ride.”

Already semi hard, Joe steeled up, and grinned. “You want a head start, say twenty minutes.”

She laughed and backstroked away from him. “Nope, just stay on my ass, big boy. And I’ll make it worth your while.” He was happy to oblige.

It didn’t take twenty minutes before they were in Joe’s room, dripping water all over Julius’s expensive carpets, and heading for the shower.

Joe pulled his wet Tee over his head, and stepped out of his shorts. He tossed both items in the bathtub and turned on the shower, so they could rinse off the chlorine.

April wasn’t in such a hurry. She stood and watched him from the doorway, her skin glistening, still wearing a wet swimsuit that looked glued to her body. She looked like some kind of misplaced sea goddess. She was studying him.

Slowly, and with keen interest, she scanned every inch of him—every fuckin’ inch. Or inches wanting to fuck, if you cared to get your English right. He was vaguely embarrassed. Damned if guys weren’t at a real disadvantage when it came to the sex game. What they wanted always made a big show of itself, right out there for the woman to see; nothing mysterious about it. For a second, he wondered if there’d been an available fig leaf would he have strapped it on—until he saw she was enjoying herself.

“I could spend a lot of time looking at you, Joe Worth,” she said, running her tongue over her lower lip. “I keep thinking, if I were to design a costume for you, what would it be?” She tilted her head, again looked him up and down. “Maybe a highlander outfit. A kilt would be good . . . And there’s always that no underwear thing.” She took a step toward him. “Or maybe a Roman senator. A soft white robe—again no underwear. Or a biker—yes, one of those dangerous-looking types who wear tight jeans and—”

“No underwear.” The bathroom was steaming up from the running shower. Joe was steaming up period. But the lady wanted to play, so he’d play. For a couple of nanoseconds.

She laughed softly. “I think we’re on the same page.”

“Not quite.” He closed the short distance between them. “I like looking, too.” He gestured with his chin at her two piece swimsuit. “And I’ve already designed a costume for you.”

“Let me guess . . .” Her suit had a front close, and she unhooked it, baring her damp breasts, before dropping the bra top to the floor. “Would that costume be flesh-colored?”

“Definitely.”

“And would it be trimmed with”—she peeled off the bottom of the suit, left her dark blond curls to wetly glisten in the bathroom light—“anything?” She stroked the curls at the top of her thighs.

Joe could barely breathe, and even if he could, he wouldn’t hear it over the thumping going on in his chest. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

She took the final few steps between them and touched his mouth with her index finger. “Killing you is the last thing on my mind.” Her eyes softened, and she was so close he saw her pupils dilate. “Make love to me, Joe”—she backed him into the double shower—“right now. Right here.” She lifted her face to the warm water coursing over them both, shoved her hair back, and looped her arms around his neck.

He slid his hands over her hips and cupped her bottom. Spreading his legs for balance, he lifted her and braced her back against the shower wall. “I’ve been waiting to make love to you since . . . Hell, I think I’ve been waiting forever.” Wrapping her long legs around him, she nestled her head beneath his ear and kissed his neck. “Then take me fast and hard.” She bit him—not gently. “We’ll do the slow stuff later,” she whispered, licking then kissing the bite she’d given him, before moving her mouth to the rose in his tattoo.

“You ready for that?” They might be drenched in shower water, but that wasn’t the moisture she needed.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured, the words vibrating against his skin. “I’m more than ready, I’m waiting.”

Joe’s brain fogged, his muscles hardened, and he slipped into pure testosterone fueled sex drive. He went in the way she’d asked him to: Fast and hard. She took him deep, her breasts against his chest so tight they were a blur of softness, her arms and legs gripped him like a vise. The rounds of her rear firmly in his hands. Throwing his head back, he plunged mindlessly, water splashing and splattering the glass shower stall with every thrust and jolt. His eyes closed, his mind shorted out, and he raised his face to the shower, and . . . mated. Free, primal, and possessive. He thrust, pulled back, thrust again, and again; each deep hard stroke numbing him, crazing him.

Brain chaos. April under his hands, her skin water-slicked and hot. Her inner walls stroking him, taking and taking . . .

He couldn’t hold on, didn’t want to hold on.

A hoarse rumble starting low in his throat, the final surge building, overtaking him. Muscles straining, taut to max. Breath tangled in his lungs. Mind a blizzard.

He crushed her to him and plunged home, to her center . . . groaned . . . held her to him. His blood still popping in his veins, sweat rushing off his back under the shower’s cascading water, he grasped for air. His muscles slackened. His legs quivered.

It was over. Finished.
Just beginning.
Joe’s overheated brain couldn’t figure out which.

His breath still a four-fisted brute pounding against his rib cage, he cursed softly, kissed the hot wet skin of April’s shoulder, and waited for the cool-down to begin—and hoped like hell it never would.

It had been a wild, hard possession that was over in a time that had to be his personal best—or worst, depending on your point of view.

April, clinging to him like a rain-soaked vine, hugged him tighter. “Nice,” she whispered in his ear.

“For me, yeah. For you, not so sure.” His voice was low and uneven. He cleared his throat.

April loosened her grip on him enough to pull back and meet his eyes. “I asked for it, didn’t I?”

He was still holding her, still in her, and distracted by the sensation of going soft inside her, he was seriously considering giving up his real life and staying there forever—or at least until he was hard again. The thought did nothing for his voice box, but it did bring a flicker to his depleted sex. Something suspiciously like a grunt came out of him.
Give it up for the Neanderthal,
he thought grimly. Joe liked slow, liked smooth, liked taking his time with a woman . . . but shit it was good to just get off once in a while with a woman on-board with it.

“Joe?” She was still waiting for an answer.

What was the question again? Oh, yeah, about her asking for it.
“Just afraid it might have been one of those be-careful-what-you-wish-for-because-you-might-get-it kind of things.” He reached behind her to turn off the water.

“It wasn’t. Because I had an ulterior motive. “She smiled, wiggled her brows. “Now you owe me.”

Lifting her and taking a steadying breath, Joe withdrew himself from her heat. When he had her feet on the floor, he dug up a smile of his own, cupped her breasts and thumbed the hard tips of her nipples. “A debt I’ll be happy to pay.”
Over and over again.

Under the play of his fingers, her nipples peaked. He leaned down to take one in his mouth, let his tongue take over from his fingers.

April gasped when he sucked on her, sank her hands into his hair, and arched to give him full access.

He switched to her other nipple, lapped at it then took it between his thumb and index finger. Lifting his head, he looked at her closed eyes, the softness of her skin, made rosy by the warm shower, the flexing of her lips reacting to his touch, slack one second, tight the next. He heard a purr, and she shifted against his lower body, showing her need openly. No barriers, no shyness. God, he loved that.

It was a deep part her,
he thought,
the openness—to sex, to caring, to loving.
He didn’t stop toying with her nipples, but he eased up and gentled his touch. “That was a gift, wasn’t it?” he said. “That fast-and-hard thing we just did.” She opened her eyes, and he could see the heat in them, see how he’d left her wanting. Aching. She put her hands over his, crushed his big paws to her breasts, and for a second looked away from him. When she looked back, her gaze was less cloudy with sex, more filled with purpose. Still she hesitated before shaking her head and saying, “Kind of a test really.”

He cocked his head.

“Not of you. Of me. What’s going on between us . . . it’s too hot, too fast, and too bizarre for me to wrap my head around. And the sex . . . Well, the sex was so good between us in Vegas and you were such an expert lover. I was afraid it might be just some slick—”

“Technique?”

“I thought if I got you to just—”

“Go at you like a wild bull. I’d demo that I’m the usual jackass male.”
Which I did.

She frowned. “Quit finishing my sentences.” She took a breath. “But, yes, that’s exactly what I meant. I thought if you did—what you just did—I’d get real. See you as just a guy. Maybe not like you as much as I’m starting to.”

“Did it work?” he asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

She tightened her lips briefly, but apparently couldn’t stop them from turning up into a quick smile. “No.”

“Then you like me as much after I nearly embedded you into Julius’s shower tiles as you did before?” Something way back in his sex-addled brain told him he should be asking about why she didn’t want to like him. But he figured that would be too much information. Plus being naked with an equally naked woman in a cooling shower stall had a direct bearing on his priorities. It didn’t include sticking an oar in murky waters. That was best left to a time when eye contact was the only option.

“I guess so.” She looked up at him, rubbed her arms as if for heat, then crossed them under her breasts.

“Come here,” he said. He pulled her out of the shower and wrapped her in a bath sheet. He massaged her back, her shoulders, and her arms. When he had her warmed up, he turned her to face him, and lifted her chin. “I don’t know why your liking me bothers you—”

“It’s a—”

He touched her mouth. “And I don’t want to. Not tonight anyway.” He lowered his head, caught her eyes. “You good with that?”

“We should—” she started then stopped herself. “I’m good with that. We’ll leave it until after.”