Something in the Water... (9 page)

“Hmm?”

“Naked like this.”

He shot her a playful look, his eyes sparkling with awareness. “Uh…yeah.” As if to say, Duh.

“I mean, playing but not making love,” she clarified.

Heat was in his eyes. “This
is
making love, Ariel.”

She supposed it was. Generally, she thought of the act of sex, itself. His eyes were on her face, assessing, as if he were registering that she’d never been this free with anyone. Oh, she’d had boyfriends. But it had never been…like this.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For?”

He bounced her lightly, his hands cupping her bottom, his smile and teasing lift of brows preparing her for what was to come. She took a deep breath, trying not to laugh—but then she laughed, anyway—as he plunged into the water, submerging them.

As he brought them both back up with a splash, he flung back his head. The mouth that immediately found hers was cool, and right after she opened for the quick meshing of tongues, she heard him say, “Let’s go deeper.”

She was still tasting the kiss and feeling the rumble
of his voice. It made his chest vibrate, and she knew he wasn’t only talking about going deeper into the water. He was talking about going deeper, into each other. “Okay,” she whispered.

He was like a drug, drawing her into some delicious underworld of sensation as he began walking farther into the spring. Looping her hands around his neck, she loosened her legs around his back, so her feet massaged his thighs. Like the water, he seemed to call her into depths she’d never dreamed of exploring….

“They say the source of the spring is under the mountain,” she found herself saying, when the water deepened and they broke apart to swim. He was a good swimmer, she realized, watching the smooth, easy glide of his body, how the powerful muscles of rounded shoulders rolled as he moved. “Swim a lot?” she asked.

“Most days in the gym. At least when I’m in the country. Rarely outside. It’s always a treat.” He was a few feet away. “How deep does it go?”

How deep will we go, Ariel?
She shook her head, scissoring her legs and pushing her arms outward in a wide circle, feeling an ache in her muscles. “No one knows. People have gone diving beneath the mountain, but no one’s ever really found the mouth of the spring.”

“Must be deep then.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Like my mind.”

“I wouldn’t argue with you there.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” he promised.

Suddenly swinging her arm in a wide arc and catching water in a cupped hand, she didn’t make an honest effort to splash him, but then, Rex wasn’t nearly so kind. He sent
a wave her way, and just as she quickly swam toward him, he neatly ducked, dovetailing as easily as a dolphin.

“Where did you go?” she muttered.

He disappeared for a good long while…long enough that she started to worry. She glanced around, treading water in circles, looking toward shore, wondering if he’d swum away.

A thrill of anticipation zipped through her. He was right beneath her, tickling her feet! Or at least she hoped it was him. She tried to swat beneath her, waving a hand in the water, but once more, something slimy—most probably his wet fingers—ghosted an instep.

“Is that you?” she asked, giggling, tucking her feet toward her belly, trying to escape. Not that there was much else in the water but him. Snakes in Bliss were usually of the land variety, rattlers and copperheads. All at once, he surfaced, blowing out whatever was left of his breath, bringing enough water with him that he could have been a whale. His shoulders were shaking with laughter.

“You scared me!”

He didn’t exactly sound sincere. “Sorry.”

“What?” she asked rhetorically. “Can you hold your breath forever?”

“Almost.”

“Bet I can hold mine longer.”

“Competitive, are you?”

“Only when I know I’ll win.”

She found his hand, then realized they could swim together, with one set of hands loosely linked, and their free hands plowing through the water. Feeling like a wild, naked animal in the moonlight, she could barely
believe the beauty of how it felt to swim with him. The water was as she’d always remembered it, warm on the surface, colder as they moved from the dock, then warm once more, as they dove down…down…down….

It was pitch dark now. The light of the moon was lost, and there was only him, a man whose name she hadn’t even known just hours ago. They played and frolicked, swimming over and around each other. Ducking and diving, they twined arms and legs like seaweed, grew into one strand, then released again.

And then they were suddenly kicking, their feet moving as fast as flippers, holding hands and heading for the surface…the far-off stars and moon and air. She felt her lungs would explode; then they broke the glassy surface, gasping for breath.

“It feels weird down there,” he managed to say, jerking his head to flip back his hair and sending an arc of water spray behind him.

She treaded water. “Hot.”

“You’re right. You can feel the temperature change.”

“Nice, huh?”

“Very.”

“I loved everything about Bliss,” she found herself saying. She paused, then added, “Except the people.”

He looked around, taking in the lush green shorelines. Far off, through the trees, tiny white lights winked through the trees, and far up the mountain was the impressive edifice of Matilda Teasdale’s legacy. A rare, perfect full moon shone down at them and the stars were glittering. Dark waters eddied by their faces, lapping softly, kissing skin. “It’s one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen,” he admitted.

“Since you’re a world traveler, that’s saying something.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice lowering, catching as he took in her face. “Yeah, it is.”

This time, the beauty was her, not the place.

Being with him was definitely dangerous, she thought. More than one day of this kind of treatment and she was sure her heart would be lost forever. Tomorrow when they parted, she thought, she’d play it cool. She wouldn’t even suggest they exchange addresses, or try to keep in touch. After all, he was in Atlanta, and only when he wasn’t traveling abroad; she was in Pittsburgh. Fate had brought them together only for a night, to swim together in the wilds of West Virginia, under the blanketing trees and stars. She had to let this be exactly what it was meant to be—a fantasy.

Reaching, he swam closer and grasped her hand. “Take a deep breath. Let’s go down again.”

She nodded, then felt a jolt when his hand tightened over hers, fitting like a glove. Their eyes met. Simultaneously, they drew in the moist night air, filling their lungs, and then they plunged. This time, as the cold mid-waters gave way to more intense heat, she felt them stoking the darker flames inside her, instead of quenching them.

A wake fluttered past, a ripple as his body glided next to hers. Surely, he felt the heat of the spring now, how it entered the very bloodstream. Way down, deep in the waters, was magic at its best. Here, it could never matter whether Matilda had really traveled to Bliss after having heard about the spring’s special properties, or whether she’d wanted to harness its powers for teas, no more than Ariel cared if the love bug actually existed,
returning periodically, compelling everyone in Bliss to stop their usual routines.

No, all that mattered was the sensation. Waters warmed her from the inside out. Even if a hundred Studs Underwoods had tortured her, instead of just one, Ariel still would have loved this spring, just as she loved the land in the most desolate winters, when the kids in town had huddled together, terrifying themselves with tall tales, while she—and only she—had had the freedom of galloping on horseback through woods rumored to hold gravesites…riding hard with her head down while cold air had knifed her lungs and hooves had kicked up snow powder.

Freedom.

That’s what Ariel had known. It was the hidden silver lining in the cloud of the way the other kids had treated her. Whatever fury she’d once felt had been soothed by these waters so many times, and as water around any grain of sand, they’d finally turned out a beautiful pearl. Tonight, the man beside her was cracking open her shell, finding the part inside that glowed.

One night, she thought once more. She’d had so many fantasies in this town. Now, she had plenty to fulfill with him—and only a few hours left in which to do it. Already, earlier today, he’d done what no man had before. Heat gushed through her at the recollection of his mouth fixed on the most intimate part of her.

And now, as they turned to swim toward the surface again, she intended to find at least one thing Rex Houston would enjoy, something extra special that she could do in return.

“Y
OUR ROOM OR MINE
?”
he asked. She was backlit, her face in shadow, and as he took in how the dim, dancing light played on her skin, his body felt strangely invigorated from swimming, even though it had been a long day, full of unexpected twists. Yet he felt drained, too. Had he really traveled from out of state, driven from Charleston to Bliss, then met Ariel? It seemed as if his last conversation with Jessica had occurred a thousand years ago, instead of just this morning.

As if reading his mind, Ariel stepped to the threshold between their rooms, whispering, “You looked tired.”

“Not
that
tired,” he said, hoping she hadn’t decided to go to bed alone, not that he really thought she would. Nor would he let her, he realized. Not without a fight. She was his tonight.

“You’re dirty, too.”

Noting the white nightie in her hand, he said, “I don’t think you’ll need that.”

“Thought you might like to see me in it.”

He shook his head and simply said, “Naked.” A streak of mud trekked across his bare chest, and as she dropped the nightie and stepped forward and traced it, the slow rake of her fingernail raised goose bumps.

“You don’t look much cleaner,” he managed to say, his chest feeling suddenly tight.

“No?”

Because she looked more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, he said nothing. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her clear face; stray strands loosened from the band fell against her neck. Something in her expression—he wasn’t quite sure what—made her look younger than she probably was. She was strong, but carried a lot of vulnerability, and he liked that. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he hated simple people. And he liked challenges. Besides, the older he got, the more people seemed to shut off and tune out. Building a life—working and raising kids required too much focus to stay in touch with emotion. He’d lost some friends that way. He wanted to keep things fresh in his own life, always to feel alive.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Her lips twitched playfully as she considered. “Think I might be jailbait?”

He laughed. His hands found her shoulders, and now both thumbs slowly stroked her upper chest. After a moment he dropped his hands. “Tell me.”

“Twenty-nine. You?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Young for a doctor. Isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Not really. But I graduated high school early. College, too.”

She looked impressed. “You must be smart.”

He laughed. “Very. But for me, it wasn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

She leaned against the doorjamb, cocking her head as if to better look at him. “No?”

“All the stupid guys got the girls.”

“What?” she asked rhetorically, chuckling. “Did you start analyzing theorems on dates?”

“I might have tried to explain pheromones,” he admitted. “Or explained how velocity related to my model cars.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You’re, uh…”

“What?” he prompted.

She settled on saying, “Pretty hot.”

“Glad you think so.”

“If you weren’t,” she added, “I’d have settled for smart.”

“Good,” he murmured. She was barefoot, and mud from the bank had splashed her ankles and calves. The sundress, dampened by springwater, clung limply to her body. In the long silence that fell, he was surprised to find he wasn’t uncomfortable. Janet had been a chatterbox, filling every emptiness between them, as if space was hers to wrap neatly, package and dispense. She hadn’t cared what she talked about, either—usually clothes shopping, books and movies. Not so Ariel. She was entirely at ease with pauses and wordless moments.

He could smell the heady scent of her. It was a palpable thing between them, like a sinuous cat stretching, arching its back. His familiar, he thought, feeling the pull of his groin again.

She was eyeing him. “Hmm?”

He shrugged, not sure how to put what he was feeling into words. He was a reader, but if the truth be told, he was more at ease with slides and tumblers than feelings. Earlier, the spring’s current had felt strong and forbidding. Even now, he felt the urge to dive again, to swim toward all that mysterious heat and maybe discover what no man ever had—the source. “The spring…”

She smiled. “It has its magic.”

He lifted a brow lazily. “I’m a scientist, remember?”

“You don’t believe in things that can’t be explained?”

“Not usually.”

“Maybe it’s time you start.”

“Maybe so,” he murmured, stretching to push aside a fallen lock of hair and touch her cheek. “No one was around when we came in,” he commented, glad they hadn’t seen anyone. He wanted her all to himself. Besides, the swim had left him feeling oddly raw, too open emotionally, and he wasn’t used to it, no more than he knew how to communicate the rare feelings.

She said, “They go to bed early.”

“The guests?”

“And my folks. They get up and start cooking at the crack of dawn. Though I didn’t see Mom’s car in the lot, come to think of it.” She paused, then, as an afterthought, added, “And that’s strange. Usually, Mom doesn’t go out at night.”

“A homebody?”

“All we witches are.”

He laughed once more. “I’d be more scared if you’d really been able to show me the graves in the woods where you keep all your ex-boyfriends.”

“Husbands, too,” she reminded.

As her bare shoulders lifted, shaking with merriment, her skin hit the light, just so—and he was struck once more by her quiet beauty. Reaching, he cupped a shoulder, slowly rubbing a thumb along the collarbone again, then into a hollow, somehow amazed at the feel of the skin. He’d completely lost track of what she was saying.

“…When I visit, I do as much work as they’ll let me
do—cooking, cleaning and entertaining guests,” she continued. “But they like for me to relax and enjoy myself.”

He pulled his gaze from her; he’d been staring as if mesmerized. He forced himself to refocus his eyes on hers—the neat tufts of blond eyebrows and spiked light brown lashes. “They want you to act like you’re a guest?”

She nodded.

“Nice of them.”

“It is.”

“Do you think they’ll…”

“Think we’re together?”

They’d been pretty obvious about their attraction at the bonfire. “Would that be a problem?”

“Honestly?” she asked with an impish smile that brightened her eyes and dazzled him. “I don’t really know. But I guess not. They seemed to like you.” She shrugged, still smiling. “I locked my door.”

“Good.” He hated to think about the possible scene if anyone had walked in on them earlier, rolling around on the floor. Even now, the musky sweet scent was entering his bloodstream, and he knew he’d remember it forever.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped at the barn,” she said. “It’s late now.”

But he’d enjoyed watching her. “You like the horses,” he said simply. They’d recognized her immediately and had come to nuzzle her hand. He didn’t ride, and she’d said she was sorry he wouldn’t be staying longer, since the horses were used to inexperienced riders, which many of the guests were, and she would have taken him.

His first thought had been that he might change his mind and stay. Easily, he could imagine her in the saddle, hunched down, her hands in the mane, her thighs
squeezing the flanks. But then, once he checked the water samples in the morning, he knew he ought to take off. He liked the idea Ariel seemed to have warmed to—of the two of them spending the next few hours getting hot and heavy, really letting themselves go.

“Too bad we didn’t find anything in the root cellar,” he said now. He’d suggested they stop there, on the way back from the barn, just to check things out.

“We’re not detectives,” she pointed out.

“I do trace viruses around the globe.”

Her eyes widened, as if to say she hadn’t quite seen it that way before. “True.”

Not that he’d found anything new. “It bothers me that the sheriff didn’t check more thoroughly. Or question people yet,” he mused. “Wonder why?”

She shook her head. “His issues with me probably have something to do with it. I just hope the book’s recovered.”

“Me, too.” The conversations he’d had over dinner had clarified how important it was to the women of the house. Without it, Great-gran said she didn’t trust herself to concoct specialty teas for the Harvest Festival, although Ariel’s mother and grandmother had assured her they could make do, if necessary.

When he spoke again, the words were barely audible, touched with desire. “I like the way you’re looking at me, Ariel.”

Awareness sharpened in her eyes. “How’s that?”

“Like you want to screw my brains out.”

“How indelicate,” she teased.

His eyes lasered into hers. “Exactly.”

The humor that had sparkled in her eyes faltered and was replaced by something less easy to interpret, vul
nerability maybe. Uncertainty, he decided. Her voice lowered, catching. “As dirty as we are…let’s run a bath.”

“Now, why didn’t I think of that?”

“The spring,” she assured. “It loosens synapses.”

“So, I take it that we’re in my room?”

“It’s cooler in here. I left my windows open. I usually do, and keep my doors shut, so cooler air from the rest of the house doesn’t escape.”

“Then c’mon in.”

Turning, he headed for the bath, lifting some condoms from the bedside table as he moved, feeling eyes on his back that were every bit as warm as the water had been outside. He didn’t wait for her, but let her take her time, and as he dimmed the lights in the bathroom and flicked a radio on a shelf to On, he heard his door shut. Good. He’d left it open, anxious to open the other door between their rooms, since she’d gone for a change of clothes, but the last thing he wanted now was intruders. Jazz played softly as he twisted the faucet and tested the water.

He glanced at the mirrored wall, and then, noticing a basket between the two sinks behind him, he found a bottle of bath foam and squirted some into the tub. In the mirror, he could see Ariel enter.

Turning to face him, she leaned against the cabinet and raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“More suds than I expected.”

Not that he really gave a damn. They were alone now. Alone, somewhere other than in a public place, and that meant they could get naked again. He stepped closer, and as he lowered his head to taste her spicy mouth, his hands found her, and his mind exploded with
questions he knew better than to ask. Was she as affected as him? Had she been as blown away by how they’d swum together?

He leaned away from her, just enough so he could urge the dress over her head. Her chest was as pale as his was dark, her breasts heavy. Running his fingers beneath them, he tested, teasing her by feeling their weight. The buds tightened, growing rosier. Spreading his fingers wide, he trailed them down her belly, then turning his hand at the last moment to arrow his fingers into her crotch, cupping her mound.

“You’re wet,” he whispered hoarsely.

“The spring,” she whispered. “We didn’t have a towel.”

“It’s you, baby,” he whispered back.

“That, too.” Her voice was edgy with need as she arched for the hand that warmed her. “You’re making me wetter.”

“Wait till I’m inside you.” His labored pant turned harsher when he slipped a hand under the waistband, over impossibly soft curls. He lightly tugged, soliciting a fluttering breath from between her lips. It beat by his ears as delicately as wings, and when he used a finger to part her, the shakiness he sensed in her thighs drove his excitement, taking it up another notch.

“You’re so easy,” he muttered, heat pouring through his veins, pooling in his belly. He pushed a thick finger inside, intending to ready her further, but the slick heat that greeted him told him there was no need. Backing against the cabinet, she opened wider, parting farther, giving him full access.

She whispered, “Easy?”

“To arouse,” he murmured. He pressed his lips deep against her neck, nuzzling. A second finger joined the
first. He held them rigid, pushing her open wider…parting her until she uttered a wistful, pliant sound.

As he twisted his hand, hers came between them, fumbling to unbutton his shorts, making him wince as she wrenched the zipper over his hard-on. When the fly was open, she moved her fingers over the ridge. His flesh was painfully aroused, but he might have survived if she hadn’t squeezed, closing her fingers around his length—then hard—and he exhaled a curse, thinking he’d die from this.

Her mouth finding his sent him soaring. She kissed him the way he was used to kissing women—without apologies, taking what she wanted, her tongue asking his to fight like a sword. “Not always easy,” she countered wetly against his lips, the words sounding strangely jumbled and senseless. He didn’t know whether it was the kiss or words that sent blood to his groin. Whichever it was, the sweet, slow ache filled her hand.

He wanted her mouth around him again, just as he needed to hear her voice. “Say you’re hot for me.”

“You want to hear me say it?”

“Even if it isn’t true.”

“You can feel how true it is.”

He moaned. He wanted to screw her all night long. Maybe it was the call of something he’d felt in the spring, but he wanted—no, needed—to drive himself so deep she’d scream with pleasure, then beg for more.

He probed her mouth, forcing open her lips, offering his tongue in tandem with his stroking hands. He was bursting and felt heat exploding in her. Fever had hit her skin and the sheen of glistening perspiration as he pushed the love-slickened fingers deeper; soon she’d have more of him. If he lasted.

“Yes…” Her voice was jagged. She was starting to shake, her thighs quivering, her hips breaking rhythm, her excitement climbing beyond her control. He pushed his fingers all the way up…all the way in. Her hand left him and she reached behind herself, clutching the cabinet’s edge.

“Not like this,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

But she couldn’t stop. She was going to come. Leaning back a fraction, he watched her as he ever so slowly thrust farther inside. He felt her close around his fingers. “Tight,” he whispered, sweat prickling his skin, tickling his nape. Probing her inner ridges, he paused when he was buried deep, then he moved his hand in slow circles, twisting his wrist, forcing her to feel every tantalizing, torturous gesture.