Unforgiven (24 page)

She hated it when he let her take the lead. All she could think about was how big her ass looked in her running shorts and just how much more jiggle there was now than there was when she was young. When she made the mistake of glancing back at him, she was mortified to see he was focusing on exactly what she was hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Turn around before you run into a tree.” He smirked. She took his advice as he edged up beside her. “Would you like me to take the lead so you can stare at my ass?” It was her turn to smirk. He passed her and took off, pushing her just a bit harder than the pace she’d set.

He was remarkably better at ignoring her, and he charged on, not the least self-conscious of where her eyes might be roving. She made the mistake of thinking she could handle the pace and check out his ass at the same time. She learned quickly, she couldn’t. She stumbled over nothing at all, and as the pace of her feet fell behind the pace of her upper body, she started falling forward. She pumped her feet, barely getting them back under her in time to keep herself from going down.

He looked back, catching her stumble, and as soon as she was righted and moving the right direction, she could hear him chuckling in front of her. She kicked her ass into gear, gaining on him slowly, and when she passed him, she smacked the incredibly nice ass that had nearly caused her to fall on her face. She didn’t bother looking back, partly because her little victory would lose something if she did, and partly because she didn’t want to tempt fate. Knowing her luck, she’d run smack into a tree and give herself a concussion.

By the time they reached the rock outcropping, she thought she might pass out. She walked in circles with her hands on the top of her head, and he did the same. She was sweating like a pig, and her face was on fire. It took a good ten minutes for her heart rate to slow and for her face to cool. When she felt his hands on her waist, she panicked. She was wet. Every ounce of fabric on her skin was saturated in sweat, and she could imagine no worse time to be touched by a man.

“Darren, I’m so sweaty.” She was still breathing deeply as she spoke.

He leaned to her neck, pulling his body up close to hers, and when he pushed his groin against her bottom, she groaned. It was half pleasure, half mortification. When he licked her neck from her shoulder up to the incredibly sensitive spot behind her ear, the half-mortification turned to all-out pleasure. “I’m not worried about a bit of sweat. Take a walk with me.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Down to the water.”

He led her down the steep hillside, winding them through thick trees until they came out at the water’s edge. It was a cove, small and quiet, and it was surrounded with a sandy beach. The cove was a hidden gem on this lake, and she was guessing few knew about it. There was no real access except for the water or the fairly impassable path through the woods.

“You do remember you’re an exceptional swimmer, right?” He was behind her again, crowding against her body enticingly as he spoke against her ear. “I used to enjoy your swim meets as much for your ass in a swimsuit as the actual swimming itself. Now how about you show me that ass? Take your clothes off.”

Her heart raced and her body coursed with warm need that far exceeded the heat of the day. “Not sure you aren’t going to grab my clothes and take off so I’m forced to run home naked.” She was stalling.

“Taking off implies I’d be in front of you, and stealing your clothes would only be fun if I got to watch you run home naked—a difficult thing to accomplish if I’m ahead of you. Now, take your clothes off.” His voice was warm and seductive, and she was very easily falling prey to his moves.

She slipped her shoes and socks off, and he took them from her hands, tossing them farther up the beach so they were well away from the water. She did the same with her shirt, sports bra, running shorts, and eventually, though she stalled for a moment, her underwear.

When she was finally standing naked in front of him, her back to him, he ran his hands slowly down her back to her hips and then over the cheeks of her bottom. He caressed, gently at first, and then he gripped and groped, and she listened as he groaned.

“I have to say, these are a bit rounder than I recall.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I was paying you a compliment.”

“Well, in that case—” He nipped her neck as she spoke, and she yelped.

“I’ve always liked your figure, and it suits you. You’re not a kid anymore, so you shouldn’t be built like one.”

“I’m feeling a little awkward being the only naked one here.”

“Still worried I’m going to ditch you?”

“Maybe.” She was almost serious.

She could feel the fabric of his shirt brush past her back, and she listened to the rustling of fabric as he undressed and tossed his clothes and shoes up by hers. He pulled her bottom back to his groin, grinding his pelvis into her butt. She could feel the hard length of him settling between the very top cleft of her butt cheeks and her lower back. He was toying with her.

“Is that better?”

“Yes.” Her voice was getting that pathetic breathiness that only popped up when she was falling apart.

He nuzzled into her neck for a moment before passing her, grabbing her hand, and leading her into the water. Her feet sank into the sand as she waded through the cooling water. He was slightly in front of her, denying her the view from the front. She was starting to think it was intentional. Soon they were chest deep, and she lifted her feet, forcing herself to tread water. She let herself sink into the water, wetting her hair and cooling her face. She surfaced, and he was five feet away, watching her.

She swam to him, and he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was forced to feel his arousal with her body without the benefit of sight or touch, but when she tried to run her hand down his stomach to touch him, he grabbed her hand, and his eyes seared into her.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

“How about you let me go at my own pace?”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“If I let you touch me, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“Because you want to stop?”

“Are you asking my dick or my brain?”

She pulled back, needing to put some space between them. It felt like a rejection, though the rock-hard length of him held tight between their bodies said otherwise. But he didn’t let her pull away. He stilled her where she was.

“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t want to do something either one of us will regret.”

She did manage to pull away that time, and he let her. She swam away from him into deeper water, speaking over her shoulder. “How about you speak for yourself and stop making decisions for me. If you don’t want to do this, then fine. Stop touching me.” She kept swimming, and when she finally turned around, he was walking up the shore.

She watched, even in her disappointment and unease, as he walked. He was so stunning and intimidating to see. He was the perfect height, and his body was all strength. He was fit, but not bulky. He was so perfectly balanced. His ass was round and strong, and his legs lean and powerful. He dressed quickly without turning back to her, and when she swam back to shore and walked toward him, he watched her just as intently.

She reached down for her clothes, but he caught her forearm. “You think I’m trying to fuck with you for my own vindictive pleasure. Is that it?” She shrugged. “Let me explain this to you. Relationships end for me. They
always
end. Now couple that with the ridiculous notion of you and I being in any sort of relationship. I’m supposed to hate you. Or I’m supposed to forgive you. What I’m not supposed to do is be romantically involved with you. Is that the man you want fucking you? That’s two big fucking strikes against this little
arrangement
we have.”

“And here I thought you wanted to be open-minded.” She yanked her arm from him, and he growled in irritation. She ignored it, dressing quickly.

The swim felt amazing; putting clammy, sweaty, and sandy clothes on over wet skin was torture, but it gave her something to focus on rather than her irritation at him. Irritation just seemed to be the way of things for them. There was nothing he said that was actually unrealistic. She got it. A man didn’t fall in love with the woman responsible for killing his sister! Duh! But, if that was so definite, so set in stone . . . then what the fuck were they doing and why was she allowing it?

He took off up into the hillside, and she let her anger at him push her up the steep incline and the few miles back to his home. It was a miserable run back, and if she wasn’t so pissed, she wasn’t sure she’d have made it through. When she reached his steps, he was still ignoring her, and when he opened the door, he didn’t wait for her to pass through. She didn’t ask his permission to use his shower, and as she bounded up the stairs toward his bedroom, he cracked open a bottle of water and watched her from the kitchen.

She stood under cold water, letting it cool her overheated skin. It was likely stupid given how loose and stretched her muscles were, but she needed the shock to her system. When she finally got out, he was sitting on his bathroom counter waiting. He hopped down as she wrapped a towel around herself. He dropped his shorts just as he stepped into the large stall, and she left, collapsing on his bed. She had no idea if she was welcome to plop her overly round ass on his bed, but she didn’t care.

Sadly, her relaxation didn’t last, and moments after she heard him turn the shower off, muscle cramps seized her legs, and she ended up gripping her calves, crying like a fool at the agony. She tried not to call for him, but after a good minute of nothing but seized-up muscles that ran from her calves up, she gave up on stubbornness and yelled. She couldn’t even stand to get herself to him, and so she cried out for him.

It took him little less than a second to emerge with a towel wrapped around his waist, and he climbed onto his bed beside her. She barely got the words “muscle cramps” out of her mouth, and he grabbed her calves, pulling them out straight. He gripped her muscles tight, holding the pressure. It was painful, but it seemed to disrupt the seizures working through her legs. She was still crying, and there was no reining in the tears.

“Relax.” His voice was deep and soothing, and if only she could will her muscles to pay attention to his voice, she might survive this. “You have to relax.” He kept gripping her calves, squeezing painfully tight but massaging the tension until it finally started to release. She was gulping down breaths of air by the time the pain subsided, and her tears eventually stopped falling too. He leaned down to her, kissing her gently on the cheek. “You’re probably dehydrated. Stay here. I’ll get you some water.” He brushed her tears away and kissed her forehead before he stood and left the room.

She flexed and stretched her legs slowly, trying not to overdo it, and he returned a few minutes later with a large glass of water. He handed her the water, leaving her for a moment to snatch a pair of underwear out of his chest of drawers and slipping into them quickly. They were dark-gray briefs, and they hit low on his hips and bottom. She watched him return, wishing her body wouldn’t respond to him the way it did. She wasn’t sure her muscles could handle it any more than her nerves.

He sat, taking the water from her and downing some himself before setting it on the nightstand. He pulled one of her legs across his lap, and he slowly started kneading her muscles. He was gentle now, and he took his time, working his way up one leg and then the other. He didn’t stop at her knee, but he traveled up her thighs too. He squeezed and caressed, and her body betrayed her some more. She barely had the towel wrapped around her at this point after writhing around on his bed like a fool, but it didn’t mean she expected him to pull it away entirely when he finished with her first leg.

She was still gasping in shock at her sudden nakedness when he pushed her thighs apart and practically attacked her wet sex with his mouth. His tongue instantly thrust between the lips, and all she could manage to say was “Oh, God” five times in a row. That was, until the doorbell rang. He looked up at her, refusing to stop tormenting her with his tongue for a moment, but he eventually pulled back, her wetness coating his lower lip and chin.

“Pizza.”

She came down the stairs, walking slowly, just as he closed the door. Her long hair was soaking wet, and she had nothing but the towel wrapped around her body. He’d managed to grab a pair of shorts before he ran down to meet the delivery guy, but that didn’t mean he didn’t prefer her naked. He struggled to take his eyes off her now as much as he always had in the past, and there was no denying his attraction to her was just as strong.

She was quite exceptional—the way she moaned quietly, the way her silky wetness felt on his fingers, the way she smelled, her taste. It was all just as incredible as he’d always fantasized about, if not more so. His mind had always had limitations her body easily managed to supersede. One-sided foreplay was turning out to be far more satisfying than he ever imagined it could be. Typically, foreplay was quid pro quo for him. He was giving exactly what he expected to get in return, and what he did was as much about the payoff for him as anything else. Selfish to say the least, but then . . . he dated quite shallow and selfish women for just that purpose. With Bailey, he wanted to give and give and give, and the payoff was the incredible sounds she made when she was aroused, the sound she made when she was coming, and that incredible taste of her on his lips. He wanted more, there was no denying it, but he loved this enough to be patient.

He carried the pizza box to the living room and set it on the coffee table, and she grabbed a couple of paper plates from the pantry before settling in next to him. She hummed when he opened the box, and she saw her favorite. “Half normal pepperoni pizza for me, half weird-ass white sauce and onion for you. I will never understand your taste in pizza.”

She smiled, and he calmed. She was smiling again. “Onions are good for you.”