Summer at Willow Lake (41 page)

“You should never, ever wear clothes,” he said. “Ever.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why would you cover this up?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to do this, Connor.”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

She couldn’t believe he had to ask. The night after their trip to the city, he’d practically had her begging for sex, then stopped without explanation, leaving her to fill in the blanks. She had filled them in with nothing good—doubt and suspicion, mistrust, unsettling memories. But it was all eclipsed by a piercing need, not just for closeness and intimacy, but for him—his strong embrace and the press of his lips against hers. She wondered what he remembered of that night, if he thought of it at all. One thing she had figured out this summer was that memory was a tenuous thing, easily shaped by perception.

“The day we went to New York,” she reminded him. “That night—I practically threw myself at you, and you ended up showing me the door.”

He laughed at that.
Laughed.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, tugging her blouse around her. “You think this is funny?”

“Hell, yeah, it’s funny. I bet I set a camp record that night, for time spent in a cold shower. I didn’t want to back off. Are you kidding?”

“Then why—”

“You were in a tough place that day, after dealing with your father. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Oh. She tried to figure out if he really meant it. He couldn’t be serious. Could he?

“Looking a little skeptical there, Miss Bellamy,” he said.

“I’m trying to figure out if that’s a line, or if you’re for real.”

“Let’s get something straight. That night at my place, I wanted you so bad it hurt. When we stopped, it was all I could do not to cry like a baby. No guy in his right mind would subject himself to that kind of torture. So I guess what I’m saying is, I’m not in my right mind when it comes to you, Lolly. You’re too important to me. Even if it drives me crazy, I’m not going to let anything happen until I know it’s right for both of us. And if that’s your idea of a line, so be it.”

She was speechless, staring at him, her mouth open. She’d certainly had expectations when she’d come here tonight, but she hadn’t expected
that.

He leaned forward and kissed her with startling delicacy, cupping her head between his hands and touching his mouth to hers, gradually deepening the contact with gentle pressure. She arched her body toward him, yet he didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. He had just stripped her bare to the waist and she was all but throwing herself at him, and still he seemed interested only in kissing, his tongue delicately tracing her lips and then dipping inside in a slow, compelling rhythm that completely mesmerized her.

Finally he lifted his mouth from hers. “Let’s go swimming,” he said.

No. Even as she let him help her to her feet, she protested with every cell in her body. She was dying for him to make love to her—right here, right now—and he wanted to go swimming? Maybe he’d changed his mind about making love. Maybe the kiss had convinced him that he wasn’t so attracted to her after all.

Using one arm in a swift motion, he pulled his shirt off over his head. “Well?” he prompted.

“Do you really want to, or is that just a ploy to get me naked?”

He touched his finger to her bare belly, moving it delicately along the waistband of her shorts. “Mission is not quite accomplished.” He undid the top snap of her shorts, inched the zipper down, watching her face the whole time. “See, the reason we should go swimming,” he said, “is that if we just go for it right now, it will be over too…quick.” He traced his finger around to the small of her back. “That’s, um, a compliment, by the way.” And with that, he stepped back, finished undressing and dived into the water.

Olivia followed seconds later, jumping off the end of the dock. The cool, clean water rushing over her was glorious as they chased each other and swam around aimlessly, splashing and ducking and then coming up for air. The moon on the water drew ripples of pure silver across the surface, and when she tilted her head back, the stars seemed to spin in slow motion. She swam over to him and they held hands, staying afloat with easy fluttering kicks.

“I needed to slow things down,” he said.

“Is it working?” She slipped through the water, closer, until he caught her by the shoulders.

“Not very well.” Then he kissed her again with swift intensity, and she felt a shock of reaction and a sharp, sweet yearning so intense that it hurt.

She pulled back only far enough to whisper, “Let’s get out of the water.”

It was wonderful and terrible, standing there in front of him, dripping wet and wanting him so badly she couldn’t see straight. It was strange and awkward and compelling, and when he finally kissed her, she didn’t care about any of that. All she cared about was that she was here with him at last, and that she could touch him, all of him, feeling the shape of his muscles, the cool smoothness of his skin.

It crossed her mind that everything was about to change for them as they sank down onto the beach towels they’d spread out. With a meticulousness that was almost comical, he produced a fanfold of condom packets.

“Ambitious, aren’t you?” she murmured.

“There’s no way I’m only going to want you once tonight, Olivia,” he said, propping himself above her on one elbow.

She lay on her back looking up at him and at the stars, and she felt completely vulnerable. Yet she trusted him, she wanted this and whatever happened after this night, well, they would deal with that later. And finally, she understood what she hadn’t realized before—that her previous failures with men had failed for a reason, and that reason was right here in her arms.

With those others, she had clung to some desperate, hopeful illusion that it would work out, but each time something had happened to shatter that illusion. Love wasn’t love if she had to try too hard to feel it. With Connor, everything was totally different. She wasn’t trying at all now.

Thirty-Two

C
onnor had certainly intended to seduce Olivia, but he hadn’t anticipated that it would happen tonight, out in the wilderness, after a long day of work. He had been telling himself to wait until the time was right, when she was not in the midst of some emotional crisis. Now he realized that if he waited for the perfect time, when they were both in the exact right place, that moment might never come.

Ordinarily, he was very good at maintaining control. With Olivia, he was not quite able to contain himself. Feelings escaped his heart like a pot boiling over, and he had no desire to stop them. There was simply no resisting the hot summer night, the cool inviting water, and Olivia, just showing up like that, willing and beautiful, a reminder of things he’d left behind but still dreamed about. He made love to her at last, the way he’d thought about more often than he wanted to admit, and it was nothing like the fantasies he had in his mind about her. It was better. She was as genuine as she’d always been, and funny and emotional, and somehow he found that sexier than a lap dance.

The cool water of the lake barely did the trick. He bombarded himself with reminders to slow down. Easy. Take it easy. He wasn’t exactly a gentleman, but one thing he knew was that you saw to the lady’s pleasure first. Always, no exceptions. The good news was, Olivia was incredibly responsive, offering herself up to him, her sounds of pleasure reverberating through him. He kissed her, tasted her, drew long, searching, mindless caresses over her smooth bare skin, and finally—good God, finally—sank down into her with the sort of timing that was too perfect to be planned. He wondered if she experienced the same burning rush as he did. Judging by the sounds coming from her and the way she twined her long, smooth legs around him—well, for once they seemed to be on the same page.

For several minutes after, he couldn’t bring himself to move, but then, with a reluctant groan, he untangled his limbs from her. Neither of them said anything and Connor figured that was a good sign. Babbling was a sign of nerves, or of regret. Silence was…well, hopeful. Besides, he was still coasting on a rush so intense it made him feel high.

Olivia let out a sigh and tucked herself against him. She was soft everywhere, her skin, her hair, her body. Her hair was still damp, and held the fresh smell of the water. He felt something in his heart, something rare and tender and wholly unfamiliar. She moved him, and not because she was sweet and emotional and sexy as hell, but also because she was someone he’d known more than half his life, even if it was only in the summer.

There was a good chance that this was all she needed from him. Mind-blowing sex and a shoulder to cry on, wasn’t that what she’d said, maybe only half joking? He tried to figure out if that would be enough for him, and if it was, how long it would last.

This summer, he cautioned himself, could turn out like other summers long ago. When the season ended, they would go their separate ways. That was always how it happened.

Correction, he thought. That was how it had happened in the past. The future was another story. Their story. Maybe they’d get it right this time.

They stayed at the island long enough to watch the moon rise and set again. She moved to her side, her head pillowed on her arm, watching him with an expression of such blissfully sated desire that he couldn’t help smiling.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m happy, that’s all.”

She stretched luxuriously, ran her hand up his arm, over his chest. “Really?”

“It wouldn’t take much for me to get happy again,” he said, detaching another condom.

“What?” she whispered. “What would it take?”

They skipped the preliminaries this time, and Connor knew it was still there between them, the explosive sensuality they’d discovered as teenagers. But back then it had been too intense, too confusing and—predictably—had ended badly. Neither of them had the emotional hardware to support a passion like that. Now it was exactly what he wanted, maybe even what they both wanted.

“I guess,” she said, sinking down to kiss him, “I have my answer.”

He could have stayed there forever, alternating between making love and resting and dreaming, rousing himself to make love to her yet again. When they were together like this, it didn’t matter who they were or where they’d come from. For some reason, they clicked. He had no idea why, or if this was something that would last, or if their need for each other would ever end.

“Is it just me,” she asked, “or was that…incredible?”

He chuckled. “It’s not just you. I figured we’d be good together.”

“You figured? You
figured?
” She pushed herself up on one elbow. Though her face was in shadow, he could hear the glare in her voice.

“What, now you’re mad about this?”

“I’m just wondering why you waited all summer to…for us to…”

“Me, too.” Determined to win back her good humor, he pressed her back onto the beach towel and smiled down into her face. In the moonlight, she looked pale and soft, full lipped and vulnerable. “Olivia, believe me, this was definitely in my plans. Not tonight, specifically, but I had it on the agenda.”

“Why?” She studied him through slitted eyes.

He realized he was bracing himself for the obvious question, the one women always seemed to ask—
Did you make love to me just now because you love me?

She didn’t ask it, although she sat up and pulled on her shorts. Connor tried not to groan aloud in disappointment. He traced the tattoo in the small of her back. “This is sexy,” he said.

“Freddy and I got them together to celebrate graduation,” she said.

“Is his a pink butterfly, too?”

“I’m sure he’ll let you see it if you ask nicely.”

“I’m never nice to Freddy.”

“I’ve noticed. Everyone noticed.”

“It’s because I’m jealous of him.”

She laughed, tugging her bra into place. “Of Freddy? Why?”

“Because you love him,” Connor said simply. “Because he’s been a part of your life.”

She froze in the middle of buttoning her shirt, and stared at him.

He’d said too much, exposed too much of his heart. He got up swiftly and pulled on his jeans. He was an idiot. He should have waited, given himself time to figure out what—besides the obvious—was going on between him and Olivia. She was quiet now, probably freaking, wishing he hadn’t blurted that out.

“I can’t be completely certain,” she said, “but I think that’s the best thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“It wasn’t that good.” Then he grinned. All right, so maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy thing, leveling with her.

“You know what really bugged me about you, at the beginning of summer?”

He chuckled. “Everything.”

“Huh.” She sniffed. “But the thing that bugged me the most is that the first time you saw me again, you didn’t recognize me.”

“Maybe I was only playing dumb, ever think of that?”

“God, Connor. If that’s the case, then it’s even worse.”

“Listen,” he said, holding her by the waist, drawing her near so their hips were touching intimately. “You weren’t playing fair that day, changing everything on me, including your name.”

“Maybe that’s always been our problem,” she whispered. “Not playing fair.”

He couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and kissed her again, and just the taste of her made him want her all over again. He traced the outline of her jaw, her neck, lower, until she slipped her hands between them and stepped back.

“We should go,” she said softly.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because…I have no idea.” She laughed and took another step back. “Because it’s nearly dawn.”

Oh, she’d gotten sophisticated on him, Connor thought, still tasting that kiss. She’d learned to be cagey with her emotions. She’d learned to surround herself with brittle armor. She knew now that some guys were only good for getting laid.

He should have been gratified by her reply. Instead, it made him feel hollow. Expendable, maybe. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be more to a woman than a good lay.