Mayday (8 page)

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay what?” He went still as he waited for her answer. As far as she could tell, he didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even
breathe
.

“Okay, I'll give you a chance. Let's see what can happen between us.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” She paused. “Maybe.”

He reached a tentative hand toward her face, letting it hover just above her skin until he knew for sure she wouldn't pull away. Then it settled in the lightest, most tender touch she'd ever experienced. His fingers rested on her cheek, stroking the soft curve there, while his thumb brushed in a featherweight touch over her bottom lip.

“Why don't you think about it more tonight?” he suggested, his voice quiet. “If you decide to take a chance on me, come to the pool at eight o'clock tomorrow night. Wear your swimsuit. If you don't show, I'll know you changed your mind.”

“What happens if I do change my mind?” she asked. “What will that mean for us?”

“I'll still write you a glowing recommendation, like I promised,” he said. “But if you can't give me more than what we've had, I don't think we should hang out together anymore.”

The thought froze her in place. No more time spent talking and laughing over coffee. No more days when a single glance at a text from him put a smile on her face that lingered for hours. No more . . . anything.

Her breath caught in a small sob. “S-so you didn't really want my friendship, after all.”

His thumb dabbed at the thin skin beneath her eyes, wiping away the wetness she hadn't even noticed. “I value your friendship more than you know. But it's not enough. I want you too much. If I tried to maintain our casual friendship, my frustration would poison it sooner or later.” His lips curved a tiny bit. “Probably sooner, given how much I've been yelling in the last half hour or so.”

She gave a shaky laugh, and he touched the dimple in her cheek.

“Even if you say yes, I won't rush you. I just need to feel like we're making some sort of progress toward a real relationship. Like you're letting me in.” His fingertips brushed the lobe of her ear, and she trembled in response. “It can be slow. As long as I know you're waiting for me at the end of it all, I can have all the patience in the world.”

He lowered his mouth to within a hairsbreadth of hers. “One other thing about that night together.”

“Hmm?” Hypnotized by his proximity, she barely heard him.

Nudging her nose with his, he murmured, “I can do better, in bed and out. Trust me.”

The heat from his body enveloped her, surrounding her in a cocoon of warmth and desire. She couldn't stop staring at his wide mouth. She wanted it on hers. Now. Tilting her face upward just enough for their lips to touch, she could barely breathe for the anticipation of it.

At the last second, he pulled away a fraction of an inch. “Not like this. The first real kiss I give you won't take place fifteen feet from an audience in a cold parking lot. I have a lot to prove to you.”

Her breath caught. The thought of how he'd choose to demonstrate his sexual prowess to her . . . Well, she already knew her rainbow wallpaper would be witnessing some solo action in her bed tonight.

Even in the dark, his tiger's-eyes glowed with desire and intent. “Just give me the chance to show you how good it could be, Helen. Let me prove it to you. Come see me tomorrow night.”

After one last lingering stroke of his thumb along her cheekbone, he stepped away.

“All right,” he called out to the people they both knew lurked around the corner. “We're done here.”

Then he walked away without looking back, leaving her dazed and shivering from more than just the chilly night breeze.

W
es saw a blurred figure behind the door of the pool waiting room. To his frustration, moisture had fogged over the glass, making it impossible to see who was coming. But he thought he spied a bright flash of copper through that fog, and anticipation made his breath catch.

He leapt up from the bleachers and strode toward the door, the slap of his feet against tile echoing in the empty space. With each step, he moved a little faster. If Helen had decided to visit the pool, to give him a chance, he wanted to see her as soon as possible.

No point in acting cool and nonchalant at this point. He'd woken up before daybreak, unable to stop thinking about her. He'd searched for her car in the pool parking lot when he'd arrived for his afternoon lessons, even knowing she wouldn't come so early. And he'd checked his phone dozens of times during the sessions, looking for a text or message from her. Each time, he'd only seen the brief text Chris had sent that morning:
Everything OK? Rabies test negative?

Wes's response:
Bite me. Not on my neck, though. Still hurts there.

Then he'd hurried his students and his assistant coach out of the building as soon possible, hoping for privacy. Hoping the woman he wanted would give him a chance to prove himself at long last.

The person in the waiting room was getting closer. Anticipation roared through him, hastening his steps even more. But before he could reach the door, it opened.

Helen—oh, thank God—poked her head around the door. As soon as she saw him heading her way, she came all the way inside and gave him a tentative smile.

“Hey, Wes,” she called out, her voice casual. But the fingers wrapped around the strap of her oversized purse trembled.

“Hey,” he replied as he walked to within a foot of where she stood.

Without further ado, he pulled her into his arms. One hand he slid up to tangle in her curls, as he'd wanted to do for months. The other he spread onto her lower back, drawing her tight into his body. And then he held her close and waited until her stiff frame relaxed against him. It took a few seconds, but she got there. Her breathing slowed, and she eased closer to him with a little, arousing wiggle.

When he felt her trembling cease, he pulled away to press a kiss on the wispy hair at her temple. “I have to close the place down for the night. Do you want to wait on a bench by the wall?”

She nodded and headed toward the nearest one.

With renewed energy and a stupid grin on his face, he shoved his feet into flip-flops and checked each of the locker rooms to make sure no stragglers remained. He locked the front door, turned out most of the lights, and hustled back toward the pool.

And then he found himself alone with Helen in the dim, humid warmth of his favorite place in the world.

His confrontation with her last night had released all the frustration building for two months, allowing eager expectancy to take its place. He didn't try to hide it in his eyes as he neared her bench.

“Are you ready for a private swimming lesson?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Man, you really didn't notice me when we grew up, did you? I swam for the King's Corners Stingrays. I saw you at meets all the time. I mean,
all the time
.”

He paused in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head. “Really?”

With a rueful smile, Helen kicked off her sneakers and reached for the hem of her own T-shirt. “Yeah. But, unlike you, I was never one of the team stars.”

Yet another missed chance for me to have noticed her. Yet more evidence of what a dumb kid I was
, he thought as he watched that T-shirt rise higher and higher.
Not that I needed more, of course
.

She'd chosen a basic blue tank suit with a racerback design. Nothing special. No, the special parts lay beneath, hidden only by the thin layer of clinging fabric. Her round tummy. The way her waist flared out to generous hips. And best of all, her breasts. Huge breasts that had clearly overpowered the strength of the suit's built-in support.

His eyes kept wandering to where her nipples poked against the suit, and he kept yanking them back. Then he abruptly lost the battle as she placed her glasses on the bench and leaned forward to pull off her socks and pants, exposing a jaw-dropping expanse of pale cleavage to his view. His mouth fell open before he hurriedly snapped it shut again.

Her stance appeared strong and confident as she piled her clothes on the bench and straightened. Shoulders back, legs planted on the tile. She met his gaze without hesitation. But again, the hands on her hips shook. Because of nervousness about starting a relationship with him? Or because she was standing before him in only a swimsuit?

He gripped the back of his neck with one hand, searching for the right words. “Probably good I didn't notice you. If I had, I'd have drowned trying to catch another glimpse of you in your suit.”

“Yeah.” She sounded dubious.

“Don't believe me?” he asked.

She sighed. “To be honest, no.”

“Okay, then.” With one yank, he lowered his loose gym shorts, revealing the Speedo beneath. Not to mention the current state of that Speedo.

He directed a significant glance down to his crotch. “Convinced now?”

“Jesus, Wes!” She covered her eyes with one hand. “Even after growing up on a swim team, I wasn't prepared for that. Probably because most of my teammates hadn't gone through puberty before I stopped swimming. Or maybe they just weren't walking around with enormous erections in between races.”

“I can see you peeking through your fingers,” he said, grinning.

“Busted.” She lowered her hand. “So much for that attempt to be ladylike.”

Laughing, he led her to the edge of the pool. “It's deep enough to dive at this end, if you want.”

Without another word, he sliced into the water, hoping the coolness would have an effect on his more heated parts soon. As soon as he raised his head, he saw her follow him with an efficient dive. She immediately made her way to his side. Her hair lay flat against her head, slicked back from her face. She was smiling, and her legs made lazy kicks in the water. He'd never seen her look more relaxed or lovely. He'd also never seen her breasts quite so . . . buoyant.

He swam behind her and began to explore her back with gentle fingertips, tracing the line of her spine through the suit and exploring each uncovered freckle. “Not sure if you knew this already,” he said, “but I've been working here for a few years. Fifteen, to be exact.”

She turned to face him, her back to the side of the pool. Moving in a little closer, he reached out his hands on either side of her shoulders to grab the edge. Her eyes widened a bit as he surrounded her with his body, but she didn't push him away.

“I read a newspaper article explaining that the mayor position doesn't pay enough to support anyone fully,” she said. “It mentioned your job here. And of course, I know you were a really talented swimmer growing up, so I'm not surprised.”

How much else does she know?
he wondered.
Does she know what happened in college?

She sighed. “Because I refused to ask you personal questions, though, that's the extent of my knowledge. I'm sorry, Wes. Can you tell me more about what you do here?”

“I coach for the Nice County Aquatic Club, and I give swimming lessons for both kids and adults.” He hesitated, and then decided to tell her the rest. “About five years ago, I also started a program for underprivileged kids in Nice County who want to learn to swim and can't afford lessons. I teach them for free, and the NCAC agreed to waive their fees if they want to join the team.”

She reached out and laid a gentle hand on his jaw. “That's wonderful.”

“Those kids dared me to run for mayor,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “When I started thinking about plans for saving our downtown, they were the ones I wanted to help. Anything I've accomplished, it's because of them.”

“No,” she said with a smile. “It sounds like they acted as a catalyst, but you did the work. You. You're the one who campaigned for office. You're the one who fought for better downtown funding for three long years. You're the one who, from what I can see, works insane hours to balance his duties as mayor with his duties at the pool.”

He couldn't help it. He squirmed a little more. God, if she didn't stop giving him compliments, he was going to have to swim a few laps to work out his discomfort.

She wrinkled her nose. “All the while trying to get a stubborn librarian to listen to him and give him a chance. Sorry about that.”

He slumped into the water, as if exhausted. “You're right. You owe me.”

“So I do,” she said softly. Cupping his face in her hands, she drew him closer.

Don't move
, he told himself.
Don't speak. Don't breathe. Don't do anything that will stop her from reaching out to you for the first time
.

Her mouth feathered across his, testing his response. Despite his mental orders, he breathed out shakily at the contact. She smiled at the sound, and then raised her head to him again. He could feel the curve of her lips as they met his, this time clinging with gentle suction. A tingling built at the base of his spine at the feel of her mouth on him at last. Nothing too urgent yet—just a warning bell telling him how far she could take him with a chaste kiss. If she actually brought her tongue into play . . . if he drifted forward until her breasts pressed up against him . . . if her legs happened to circle his waist . . . Jesus, he'd embarrass himself.

And then, as he felt the exploring flicker of her tongue against the seam of his lips, he didn't care about embarrassment any longer. With a single surge, he moved forward, urging her into the wall at her back so he could press himself against her front. With a growl, he opened his mouth and stroked his tongue against hers.

God, she tasted sweet. In contrast to the cool water surrounding them, the inside of her mouth was hot. And between their bodies, he was surprised that the water hadn't boiled away in response to the heat they were generating. He rubbed up against her, running his hands slowly up and down her sides. On one of the upward passes, he let his thumbs skim over her breasts. She arched her back a little in response, offering the soft flesh to him. Without hesitation, he accepted the invitation, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with his thumbs.

Unable to help himself, he nudged forward, pressing his erection against the soft material of her swimsuit. A low whimper came from the back of her throat as the motion impelled her against the wall. She let her legs drift up around his hips and her arms cross behind his head.

He made a few minor adjustments, and then . . . there. His cock was nudging between her legs, right against her clit through the swimsuit. He rolled his hips against her, the motion fluid and effortless in the water. Her breath hitched, and he gave a feral grin.

This. This was how he'd begin the process of erasing his performance from a year ago.

He wanted to sink a fist into those coppery curls and yank her lush mouth to his. He wanted to cup those gorgeous breasts in his hands and feel her nipples turn hard beneath his fingers. He wanted to tear apart that swimsuit, spread her thighs, bury his face in her pussy, and feast on her until she couldn't talk, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but cry out at the pleasure he brought her. He wanted to feel her come around his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He wanted to make love to her, and he also wanted to fuck her. Repeatedly. Perpetually.

But right now, he'd settle for giving her the sort of pleasure she hadn't experienced their one night together. It would be enough for him. More than enough.

He found a rhythm she seemed to enjoy, at least if her short nails digging into his shoulders gave him any indication. Letting his hips continue to rock up into her, he removed one hand from her breast and used it lower her swimsuit straps from her shoulders. Because of the racerback design, it took a little work, but he persisted. Finally, he managed to wrestle the suit down to her waist. Tearing his mouth from hers, he leaned his upper body backward to take a good, long look.

Her pale breasts floated to the surface of the water, unencumbered by the swimsuit. They gleamed with wetness, droplets running down their slopes and rolling onto her hard nipples.

“Shit,” he said.

Breathing hard, Helen looked at him. “Are they . . . okay?”

“Okay isn't the word,” he said. “Fuck, baby, you have the greatest pair of tits I've ever seen. Like, ever. Ever ever.”

She bit her lower lip, still appearing unconvinced.

Well, in that case, I'll just have to convince her with actions instead of words
, he thought. His mouth lowered back to hers, glorying in the sweetness and slick friction of her tongue against his. Through the thin layers of their two suits, he could feel the hardening nub of her clit against his cock. As he glided against it again and again, his hands came back to her breasts. This time, he tugged on her nipples with his thumb and forefinger before circling her areolas.

Trapped between his body and the wall, she arched against him and moaned. Her hips had begun to lift to meet each of his nudges, and her nails bit into his back as she pulled him closer. Even through the water and their clothing, he could feel the heat of her pussy.

“You want more?” he rasped into her mouth.

“Yes,” she gasped “More. God, I'm . . .”

Keeping one hand on her breast, he slid the other to her ass, helping her rub herself against the hardness of his cock. Her eyes closed as her hip movements became jerky against his. The pressure of her legs around his waist increased as she drew tight.