Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (26 page)

I snorted. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here? I’m sure there are other toys you can play with instead.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Amber and Tipper would be more than willing to entertain you tonight. Together.”

West glanced toward the bar then back at me, annoyance splashed across his face. He moved closer, invading my personal space, and loomed over me, his eyes flashing gray storm clouds, but I stood my ground, refusing to step back. “I’m two inches from the person I want to be with tonight. Two inches. And I’d be happy to erase those two inches if you’re still not clear on that.”

I watched as he called his brother. I tried protesting that I was capable of taking care of myself, but he just talked louder and put a finger over my lips until he finished. After pressing the end button, he shoved his phone in his pocket and nudged me farther under the overhanging roofline, into the shadows. “Stay tucked back here out of the sun while I pull the truck around,” he instructed, his narrowed eyes daring me to argue.

I sighed and crossed my arms, my chin jutting out, but I nodded once in defeat.

When we got back to the cottage, and I tossed my beach bag on the kitchen table, I found a note stuck on the fridge from Rue, telling me she had gone out but would be back in the morning. I tried to crumple it up, but West had already seen it.

His lazy smirk was out in full force as he plucked the wad of paper from my hand and threw it in the trash. “Good. Because I plan on taking care of you tonight.”

“West, really, you can head back to the bar. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a shower and aloe up.”

His eyes darkened, and his lips twitched. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll help.”

Muttering to myself about stubborn men, I headed to the bathroom and turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. I eased my sundress over my head and dropped it in a heap on the floor, ignoring West as he lounged in the doorway, watching me.

Nudging the door with my toe, I tried to edge him out of the small room, but he pushed it back open and planted himself in the opening. With one hand, he pulled his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile I had started on the tile floor. When he started unbuttoning his jeans, I covered his hand with mine, stilling his motion.

“What are you doing?”

“Assisting you. It’s my fault you’re burned. I had sunscreen on the boat — I should have thought of it. I didn’t even think about your skin being unprotected while you napped on that bean bag.”

Reaching behind my neck, he tugged on the strings of my bikini until the top loosened and fell, exposing my breasts. He sucked in a sharp breath, and I glanced in the mirror. The sharp delineation between my sunburn and my pale chest looked almost cartoonish.

“Fuck, Sadie.” West scooted closer but stopped short of touching me. “That looks worse than I realized. You
need
to let me help you.”

After undressing and helping me ease my swimsuit bottoms down my legs, he ushered me into the shower and stepped in behind me, blocking the spray from directly hitting my tender skin. Using his hands and some creamy body wash, he bathed me, his touch light as a feather around my shoulders, which seemed to be the worst.

Working efficiently and wincing in sympathy when I hissed out a breath when his fingers scraped a tender area, he soaped me up, rinsed me off, and wrapped me in a fluffy towel before depositing me on the end of my bed. I dragged a brush through my hair and twisted it into a wet bun atop my head. There was no way I was using a hot hair dryer tonight. While I worked on taming my mane, West rummaged around my medicine cabinet and returned with two ibuprofen and a bottle of water to wash it down. I swallowed the small pills and drank most of the bottle before handing it back.

Flicking off the lights when he returned from putting the medicine up, he spread two large towels on top of my quilt and then moved me to the middle of the bed, my damp towel still draped around me. The muted yellow glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtain left most of his face in shadow, making the angles and planes harsher. Holding the oversized bottle of aloe, West settled next to me on the mattress, sympathy coloring his expression. He squirted a glob of the green gel into his palm and twisted to face me.

“Ready?”

I nodded, bracing myself for how cold it was going to feel.

Starting from the top, he smoothed his fingertips over my forehead, down my nose, and across my cheekbones, tracing the contours of my face. I bit my lip, the coolness of the aloe warring with a small spark of arousal as his fingers set off tingles and goose bumps everywhere he touched. His palm slid down my throat, cupping it, before following the curve of my shoulder. I shivered, my nipples hardening into buds under the towel. He worked his way down one arm and then the other, discovering my inner elbows were ticklish in the process. His lips quirked when I drew back, but neither of us broke the silence.

Taking my right hand in both of his, he turned it upwards and dug his thumbs into the meat of my palm, rubbing from the center out. Then he moved higher, working the tender flesh at the base of my fingers and between the joints before finishing with each individual finger from base to tip, never hurrying but taking the time to go over every area two or three times. You know the way your scalp tingles when someone plays with your hair? I was feeling that times a hundred. By the time he had repeated the process on my left hand, I was boneless.

I’d never in my life had a guy spend so much time on just my hands, never realized how erotic it could be, how many nerve endings could light up as his callused fingers abraded my tender skin. My breathing became slower, heavier, and my eyes closed, all of my focus on where our bodies touched.

I missed when he let go, although the dip and sway of the mattress as he shifted around on the bed told me he hadn’t gone far. When he picked up my foot and started a good, old-fashioned rub, I couldn’t stifle the quiet moan that escaped my mouth. His touch wasn’t sexual, but everything about the moment seemed heightened.

The darkened room. The soft rustle of our cotton towels as he moved. The ball of his hand pressing into the arch of my foot. The heavy thud of my heart. It was overwhelming and not enough at the same time.

He gave my toes the same treatment he had my fingers, focusing on each individual digit as well as the soft skin in between. The back of my heels came next and then he started a path up my legs. He pulled my feet into his lap, and his hardness strained against the towel wrapped around his waist. My lips parted.

His strokes became more gentle as he moved upwards, where the sunburn was worse. Knees, thighs. He moved all the way to my bikini line, and I couldn’t help spreading my legs a little. A rough sound left the back of his throat, my motion not going unnoticed.

The towel was suddenly removed, leaving me naked, bare to his eyes. I inhaled sharply. The urge to cover my chest was strong, knowing my stark tan lines looked garish at best, but I forced my hands to stay at my sides.

The chill of the aloe along my collarbones made me gasp in surprise. I’d expected him to still be working from the bottom up. My nipples tightened even further, and I bit my lower lip. He smeared my chest with the aloe, staying clear of my unharmed skin, which meant he touched me everywhere but my aching breasts. His fingers stroked my stomach, tracing the curves of my waist and hips, drifting lower before again stopping where my sunburn ended.

It was such a fucking tease.

I arched my back, reaching for his touch, wanting more. He settled his palm on the rise of my left hip, pushing me back down into the pillowtop mattress. As he stretched out on his side next to me, I reached around him with my right arm and clutched his back, wanting more contact with his warmth. My eyes lowered partway, peering at him hovering over me, his finger drawing a line between my breasts.

He settled a thigh between my spread legs, and I realized his towel was gone. I couldn’t stop my hips from circling, seeking friction, warmth pooling in my core.

His thumb tracing my lip distracted me, and I met his gaze, my own eyes begging.

He breathed my name.

“Please,” I whispered.

He shook his head, his eyes moving down my body. He shifted closer, his lips almost brushing mine. “You’re too burned for fucking, babe. But your best parts—” he skimmed a nipple “—they’re okay. So I’m going to take care of you tonight. Like I said I would.”

I scraped my nails down his back in protest, wanting his heavy weight pressing me into the bed, but he just kissed the tip of my nose before pulling back. Even my lips were burned.

His right arm reached across me, a single finger moving to circle my left breast. He started wide, moving in ever-tightening rings, but stopped short of the eager peak. He teased the other one, until they both felt swollen and heavy, and I squirmed beside him, trying to get his hand where I wanted it most.

“Patience, Sadie. I promise you’ll sleep well tonight by the time I’m through.”

I wrinkled my nose and huffed in annoyance and was rebuked with a sharp pinch to my nipple.

I hissed his name in surprise, narrowing my eyes, but ended on a moan when his lips closed over the tight bud. He mouthed me, licking with the flat of his tongue, his actions a delicious torment. I speared my fingers through his hair, the spiky strands too short to grip properly, my nails raking his scalp and urging him closer. His lips smiled against my hot flesh before tightening over me, pulling and sucking the way I needed him to.

My hips bucked, and my eyes closed, heat coursing through me and settling low.

More, more, more.

The thought was the only one in my head, looping.

He switched sides, and his talented hand cupped the other breast, squeezing it and teasing the sensitive tip. I pulled his head tighter, not wanting to be teased any longer, and he nuzzled closer, his day-old scruff a welcome torment as he buried his head against me.

“West.” His name was a mere sigh, and he hummed in response, the vibration adding another level of bliss.

He released the breast he had been caressing, his hand lowering to my damp core. His middle finger ran the length of my slit, top to bottom, bottom to top, before easing inside.

He growled and clamped down on my nipple with his lips, while his finger slipped into me and stroked. My hips lifted, more than ready, but he kept the pace slow, removing his hand after only a few thrusts and circling my clit.

I whimpered his name in frustration, and he laughed once against my chest, his warm breath puffing on my overheated skin.

Giving in to my hands pushing against his shoulders, he worked his way down my body, avoiding touching my sensitive stomach. Settling between my legs, he lifted my thighs over his shoulders and made his first slow pass with the flat of his tongue. I about came unglued.

I moaned and dug my heels into his back, trying to force him where I wanted, no, needed him most. He hummed an acknowledgement and separated my folds, delving deeper until his mouth latched onto my swollen clit. His tongue swirled, lapping gently, and my fingers pressed against his head in time with his slow sucks. I’m impatient by nature though, and it wasn’t long before I was using my hips and hands to ask for more.

He responded, his lips pulling more firmly against my folds, his tongue flicking, and his roughened cheeks scraping my inner thighs. I was close, so close, and mindless noises spilled from my open mouth.

Two thick fingers pushed into me roughly, and it was enough. My thighs tightened around his head, clamping him to me, and I whispered an endless chain of his name and “Now, now,
now
,” into the dim room.

He stayed with me, his tongue softening as my hips slowed their grinding rolls against him, not releasing me until my hands fell away from his head. Then he pressed soft kisses over my sex, almost reverently, inhaling and licking his lips. The sound of his appreciation mingled with my ragged breathing.

His hands snaked up my body, plumping my heavy breasts and tweaking a nipple to get my attention.

I opened a sleepy eye and peeked down at him, unable to do more.

His husky voice was a mix of threat and promise. “You get three minutes. Then I’m going in for round two.”

CHAPTER 16

B
y morning, my discomfort was gone, although I wasn’t sure if the credit should go to the aloe and ibuprofen or the flexibility and stamina of West’s tongue. I rolled over toward him, wanting to snuggle and ignore the stubborn sunbeams infiltrating my bedroom blinds.

But the bed was empty — the pillow indentation from his head all that remained.

I frowned and propped myself up on my hands to look around. His pants were gone, but his shirt was still balled on the chest at the foot of the bed. Unable to resist, I grabbed it for myself, slipping it over my head and breathing him in, filling my lungs with his salt and citrus scent. Tugging on some hiphugger panties, I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and use the bathroom before I went looking for him.

When I emerged five minutes later, happy to find my sunburn only lingering on my shoulders and face, I was awake enough to smell the scent of bacon drifting through the cottage. Helpless to resist the allure of the crispy, greasy goodness, I followed my nose to the kitchen where West was holding a spatula and a cup of coffee while poking at two skillets. One had bacon, and, at the moment, I didn’t care about the other one, because he was
shirtless
, cooking breakfast in
my
kitchen, and it was such a sexy moment that I couldn’t help but stop, stare, and take it all in.

Until Rue appeared across the living room, halting when she spotted him. She stalked across the room to my side and snatched my elbow to pull me closer to her.

“What is he doing here?” she hissed. “You know the rules.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Lifted my hand and dropped it again.

“Cooking breakfast?” I offered in a weak voice.

“Morning to you too, Rue!” West called cheerfully, pointing at the counter with his spatula. “Coffee’s ready and the pancakes are almost done.”