Blue Crush (18 page)

I rub my face and try to get my eyelids to fully open. “Sort of.”

“Okay, well, I thought we could get an early start training.”

“You want me to train
at seven in the morning
?”

“Is that a problem?”

I let out a deep, guttural sigh. He’s doing this for me, I remind myself. “My brain doesn’t function very well at this hour.”

“That’s okay. All I need are your legs. And your arms.”

I slip into a prone position and I prop my head on my elbow to stay awake. “For?”

“Swimming.”

Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. “Where?” I ask slowly, skeptically.

“The lake.”

Definitely don’t like the sound of that. “Are you bringing me a wetsuit?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not really.”

“No wetsuit. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Lewis pulls off the highway and down a road to the shore north of Zephyr Cove, a place called Cave Rock. Mist hangs over the lake, evidence the water is friggin’ freezing in the morning, and well, pretty much any time of day. Alpine lakes are not known for their warmth.

“Why are we here so early?” I ask grumpily.

He looks over and smiles. “Not a morning person?”

I raise my eyebrows. “You’re just now noticing? Why? Are you a morning person?” Because if he says yes, I might have to call this entire whatever we have going on off.

“When I have to be … I don’t sleep much.” He exits the Jeep and grabs thick towels from the rear while I stumble out. Lewis takes in my sweatpants and sweatshirt, the hood pulled over my head. “You do have a swimsuit underneath all that, don’t you?”

I glare at him.

He grins. He’s in jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair ruffled as if from sleep.

In spite of my irritable mood, I have to admit he looks really cute first thing in the morning. And he brought me coffee, which saved his life. I cannot be held responsible for what I do when woken at ungodly hours.

Glancing up—way up—I take in the enormous cliff jutting proudly toward the lake like an Egyptian sphinx. Holes drilled through the center provide highway access. “What is Cave Rock?”

Lewis follows my gaze. “A sacred Washoe site.”

“Really?” I look again. The brittle, brick-like layering of stone that forms the cliff appears weathered, different from the rocks of the jetty below.

Lewis walks to the side of a boat ramp. He climbs across the boulders of the jetty and I stare. “You expecting me to follow you, or something?” I call.

He waves me forward. “Come on. I’ll tell you a story when you get out here.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of incentive?” I take a few tentative steps, my flimsy Keds slipping dangerously. “’Cause it’s not working.”

He looks back and frowns. “Genevieve, the race is just over two weeks away. You are not ready. Scaling these stones and catching up to me is the first phase of your training today.”

The first phase?

I’m doing the weight lifting, the running, not to mention the gym and cascades torture, but I trust him if he says I’m not ready for the race. Mentally, I’m most definitely not ready. Physically, it’s debatable. I might finish the mudder with a decent time, considering my track conditioning—if I’m able to scale the walls, which is dubious. But the mudder doesn’t simply test physical endurance, it tests mental resilience.

We reach the end of the jetty and I sit on a flat stone, my legs dangling over the edge. They’re not sore for once, and though scaling the rocks took concentration, I don’t feel fatigued. The mist no longer lingers on the water, but that doesn’t equate to warmth below. The temperature outside is a cool sixty and rising, which means the water must also be in the sixties.
Cold.

“So what’s this story you’re going to tell me?”

Lewis unzips his sweatshirt and lays it on top of the towels. He sinks onto a rock and props up a knee, leaning back on his elbow. My gaze strays to the smooth, ripped bicep peeking out of his T-shirt. Everything about Lewis is compelling—the way he moves, the things he says, his body.

When I look up he’s watching me. I should be embarrassed that he caught me checking him out, but I’m too startled by the look in his eyes.
Longing.

His gaze cuts to the lake and he doesn’t say anything for a drawn-out moment.

I stare at the water, trying to figure out what just happened. Did I do something wrong? For a moment, I thought he might reach over and kiss me. I wouldn’t have minded, no matter how tired and irritable I am.

A small duck suns itself on a stone separated from the rest of the boulders that form the jetty. This rock is smooth, the same color as Cave Rock—brown and weathered.

Lewis picks up a piece of loose gravel and weighs it in his hand. “As I mentioned, this place is sacred.” His expression is thoughtful, as if he’s considering how to continue. He throws the pebble without disturbing the sunbathing duck. Miniature ripples cut through the calm water. “Healers used the cave as a place to commune with the spirits. Everyone else was unwelcome at Cave Rock.”

He glances at me, one corner of his mouth pulled back. “My ancestors were pissed when men carved tunnels for roads. Climbers later cemented the interior of the caves. Attempts have been made to repair the damage, but as you can see”—he points to cars whizzing through the center—“some things can’t be fixed.”

His gaze turns inward and for a moment he seems somewhere else. “Lewis?”

He blinks and glances at the cliff. “There’s an old Washoe saying that a bird called Ong visits anyone who trespasses on Cave Rock. Ong’s wings are said to span villages, the wing beats capable of bending pine trees. Only healers actually see Ong; to everyone else he moves in shadow.”

Lewis peers at me, his expression dead serious. “The Washoe believe Ong lives in the underworld and comes and goes through the center of the Lake to feed on trespassers of sacred ground.”

I smile calmly. He’s trying to freak me out. “It’s a myth, meant to keep non-healers away so the healers had a special place.”

He shrugs and stares at the center of the lake. “A few climbers who cemented the floors of the cave met with mysterious deaths.”

He points to the base of the cliff, about a quarter of a mile away. “Swim there and back. Two laps.”

I laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“You told me a creepy story about some devil bird that eats people who go near Cave Rock, and you want me to swim to it? Twice?”

He leans over and squeezes my bicep. “Toughen you up.”

“Oww—” I rub my arm and glare. “Why can’t you go with me? The lake is cold. What if I become hypothermic?”

He rubs his chin. “That’s a possibility. I’ll keep an eye on you.” He pulls off his T-shirt and unbuttons loose jeans, and I watch because
—gahhh.

Lewis is muscles and sinew and masculine beauty, and how am I supposed to look away from
that
?

My face is on fire and I’m pretty sure the red extends down my chest.

He strips to board shorts and repositions himself on the jetty, nodding at the water. “Better go before Ong wakes up.”

“How exactly will this help me in the race?”

“It won’t. In the race, you’ll swim through ice water. The lake is like a bath compared to that, but this is the closest thing I could find on short notice.” He scratches his head. “I could get the guys from work to build a small pool and fill it with ice—”

“No.”
I stand and strip off my sweats. “This is good.” Better not let him finish that thought. I think he’s serious.

When I glance at him, Lewis is staring at my legs, his gaze running up the rest of my exposed skin.

I’m wearing one of my sturdier bikinis with extra material—I figured Lewis would torture me in some fashion and wanted to come prepared—but it’s still a bikini because that’s all I own. You’d think I’d be more comfortable in a one-piece, given my conservative clothing preferences, but everyone bares skin at the beach or a pool. I’m just one more body and I’ve never thought much of it.

I’m thinking about it now.

I’ve never been this undressed in front of Lewis and the way he’s looking at me has my skin heating.

He grins when I catch him staring.

He’s flirting again. So, so dangerous. My inhibitions dissolve around flirty Lewis. It’s a good thing I’m upset with him for dragging me here.

I hold my breath and jump in the water.

And my organs shrivel, joints locking from the cold.

Son of a bitch.
I rise to the surface, arms and legs wagging to get me as high out of the arctic as possible. “Oh my God, oh my God—”

“Better get a move on before Ong finds you,” Lewis calls.

“You are the devil!” I yell between chattering teeth. I swim as fast as I can to Cave Rock, Lewis’s laugh rumbling behind me.

My heart pumps with anxiety. I don’t know why his stupid bird story scared me. Maybe it was the way he told it. Maybe it’s this place, but
Jesus.
Man-eating birds and ancient Native American sites? I don’t need this shit.

Only yes, I do. Drake and every jerk that came before him prove I need to toughen up, as Lewis so bluntly pointed out.

Mudder—that’s the goal. Afterward, I will be a tough chick and guys will think twice before messing with me.

Rocks and other indistinguishable blobs pass below in the clear water. I’m trying not to look at the shadows and guess at what they are, but it’s not working. Goddamn, Lewis. I flip over and backstroke for a while.

Two-thirds of the way there, I breaststroke the rest of the way in. My hand shakes like crazy as I carefully reach for one of the brownish, weathered stones of Cave Rock as if it might zap me for trespassing, like an electric fence. Instead of a light, fleeting contact, though, my fingers linger for a moment. This is a piece of Lewis’s family, his past and present. I’m drawn to it and fear it at the same time.

Whirling around, I book it the heck back.

I can’t believe I have to do this twice.

By the time I reach Lewis, I’m officially tired. I glare at him for good measure, which makes him grin. He looks unbelievably hot without his shirt, smiling down at me with mischievous dark eyes. I have to work to not return that smile.

I push off the rocks below his feet and make my second lap to Cave Rock to give Ong another opportunity to take a juicy bite out of my ass.

My final lap to the jetty goes more slowly. Lungs aching, arms burning—my legs don’t work so well, and I don’t feel the cold anymore as I crawl pitifully up the rocks. Lewis doesn’t try to help. He learned his lesson the last time, when I verbally and sexually attacked him for lifting me off the cliff before I fell to my death.

Given that logic, if Lewis were a normal guy, he’d find a reason to save me, but Lewis isn’t normal. He’s pensive, reserved, and confusing, though his body reacted predictably on the beach. I can still feel his warm hands—

A spasm of shivers erupts down my limbs, which turns into full-blown teeth-rattling vibrations as my body defrosts.

Lewis wraps a towel around my shoulders and runs another down my legs and feet. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” I say between chattering.

He lifts me onto his lap and hugs me to his chest, which feels as hot as a furnace. I press my face against his smooth skin. “Does everyone you train get this treatment? I’m going to get jealous if you tell me you do this with Zach.”

Suddenly, I’m not so cold, or cranky, despite it still being early morning. My mind wanders to last night and the things we did—the things we could be doing.

He chuckles. “Just you.”

Are we talking training or something else?

Am I the only one he kisses? Lewis doesn’t seem the type to hook up randomly, but I’ve been wrong before. Have things settled down with Mira to the point he can happily date without her torching his home?

“So Mira’s okay? With this?” I lean back to look in his eyes. His face doesn’t give much away, but I’ve noticed his eyes are expressive if I’m paying attention.

He tightens his arms and leans down, brushing his lips over mine. “Your lips need warming.”

My breath quickens, lungs tight and breathless like they were right after the swim. “Whose fault is that?”

“Mine, and I take my warming-up job very seriously.” He skims his lips across my cheek, below my ear, wrapping them around the lobe and sucking.

A shiver in no way associated with the cold runs down my spine.

My ears were never sensitive. I don’t know why they are with him.

I slide my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Cool air brushes bare skin as the towel falls away. His hands grip my waist, our lips colliding. The kiss is intimate and thorough, communicating what we never say.

I’m not cold anymore. In fact, there’s a fire burning under my skin and it centers beneath Lewis’s hands as they glide over my bare back and around my ribs, his fingers grazing the underside of my breasts. My breath catches and he pauses.

I arch into his hand and he palms my breast, a low moan erupting from his chest—or mine?

Who cares?

The kiss becomes frantic and deep. Lewis lifts me or I stand—not sure which—but my legs are now around his waist and straddling him.

The towels have gone by the wayside, a puddle on the stones. Only my bikini and Lewis’s board shorts block our skin, and knowing that and feeling him hard beneath me has my breath hitching between kisses.

His head lowers and he slides my bikini top to the side, his mouth concealing my nipple. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, my body shaking with the pleasure, knowing he’s mine in this moment, if no other.

I feel him thick and hot beneath me. I rock forward to increase the friction because that’s what he does to me, turns me crazy and hormone drunk. His mouth pauses, a deep rumble coming from his chest. This time the sound definitely came from him.

His mouth runs up my neck, his hands settling on my ass. He gently guides me forward for a repeat, which is really unnecessary because I’m already moving in that direction.

His tongue exploring my mouth, Lewis raises one hand to gently graze my nipple, his erection large and rubbing the right spot, over and over.