When You Wish (Contemporary Romance) (22 page)

They both went into the water.

Chapter
Thirteen

Grace couldn’t help but laugh as she went into the water. That’s how she ended up with a mouthful of lake. She came up coughing, and sputtering, and gagging. By the time she cleared her throat, her teeth tasted like seaweed.

Her heart gave a sharp, panicked kick when her searching gaze did not discover Dan.
Dear God, please let him be able to swim.

She hadn’t thought to ask. What adult couldn’t swim these days? Probably quite a few. But what kind of lunatic would go on a boat without putting on a life jacket if they couldn’t swim? Double quite a few.

“Dan!” she shouted, preparing to dive.

“Here.” His voice came from the other side of the boat. The breath she held blew past her lips in a rush that shook in the middle.

Since he wasn’t dead, she just might kill him.

His face appeared around the end. “You okay?”

“As soon as I kill you I’ll be fine.” She kicked her feet to stay afloat, and one of her sandals went to the bottom of the lake.

“Sorry.” He sounded sheepish. “I wasn’t thinking.” He held out a hand and drew her toward the boat.

“With your brain anyway.”

“You had the same idea.”

True enough. Watching him row half-naked had made her half-crazy. Perhaps a dunk in the lake had been the best thing for both of them, although her body still thrummed with awareness as they treaded water hip-to-hip.

“Guilty as charged,” she admitted.

“Now what?”

“Want to go swimming?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No. We’re close enough to the raft to pull the boat over and get back in from there.”

“We can’t get in from here?”

“You ever try to get back into a boat without a ladder or help from the inside?”

“Believe me, it’s easier to swim a few yards and get back in from the raft. Grab the mooring line.”

Grace led the way. Dan hauled the boat, no easy trick while swimming. The more she knew of Dan, the more surprised Grace became at how little she knew him at all.

Minutes later they reached the raft and Grace hauled herself up the ladder. Even though she wore only shorts, a tank top, and one shoe, sopping wet clothes could be amazingly heavy. She grabbed the shorts to keep them from sliding down her legs and back into the lake.

Dan emerged from the water looking like a Norse god. Her mouth went dry. Water streamed down the muscles of his bare ch
est, glistening in the early afternoon sun. His hair had darkened from the damp yet still glowed golden. His shorts, cut-off sweatpants from the looks of them, left little to the imagination when wet. And Grace had more than a little imagination. Her hands itched to run all over him.

He secured the mooring line with a deft twist, turned, and found her drooling over him. His grin made her knees wobble.

“I think we’d better rest here awhile.” Her cheeks heated when her voice came out sounding like an advertisement for 1-900-SEX-4YOU. Forgetting how small a raft was, especially with a man the size of a football player aboard, she turned around too fast, lost her balance and windmilled her arms to keep from going back into the drink. Dan’s firm, strong hands on her shoulders saved her. The warmth of his hands put her at peril once more.

Though the day was hot, the breeze wasn’t; its whisper made her shiver. Together they stood on the raft in the middle of a deserted lake, the sun
shine beating down, the eagles dancing somewhere in the distance, and neither seemed to know what to do, what to say, next.

Grace expected Dan to turn her in his arms so he could kiss her again. Or maybe he would just press that clever mouth to her neck, then work his way down. Maybe he wouldn’t kiss her at all, maybe he would touch her—where she wanted him to touch her the most.

Shifting at that thought, her nipples, hardened from the cool, clear water, slid along the inside of her shirt. The sensation, coming so quickly on the heels of salacious thoughts, made her body flood with desire.

Yes
, her mind whispered.  T
ouch me there; touch me every-everywhere.

But when he broke the hovering, sizzling tension between them, he did none of the things her mind and body begged for. Instead he yanked the band from her braid and ran his fingers through the wet length, gently, almost reverently, never pulling, never tugging, releasing the heavy mass from its twisted confines to flop heavy along her back.

He bent and buried his face in the strands, rubbing his cheek like a cat. Grace shuddered. How could such a simple thing as touching her hair be so unbelievably arousing?

When he shifted his hands from her shoulders to her waist, then along her bare belly, the calluses on his fingers scraped the muscles that twitched and tightened beneath her skin. His mouth at her ear, he whispered, “Grace?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I touch you?”

In answer, she pressed herself to his bare chest, the desire to feel his taut, muscled skin against her own made her want to rip off her wet T-shirt, but she restrained herself—from that, anyway. Instead she molded her body to his hardness, arched her back and begged him without words to touch her and more.

His palms skimmed up her rib cage; he filled
his hands with her breasts—almost. His thumbs teased her; his fingers stroked her. Her head fell back, resting on his chest, and she wasn’t sure, but she thought he kissed the top of her head. Desire and tenderness warred within her.

Once she’d said there could be nothing like this between them. Stupid of her. This
was
between them and it wasn’t going to go away. She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want to want him. She really, really didn’t want to love him.

Her mind skittered away from serious thoughts as her body pulled her into the abyss of awareness that had stretched between them from the very
beginning. She had to feel his skin against hers.

Pulling away from his gentle touches, she turned in his arms and put he
r hands against his chest. Holding his gaze with her own, she traced well-defined muscles with trained fingertips, pressed the heel of her hand against bone, ran her thumb along the ridges of his belly and ribs, then dipped into the valley at his navel. His eyes darkened with desire, and when he tugged on the hem of her shirt, she raised her arms over her head in mute agreement.

He slid the shirt over her arms and with a wink flipped it over his
shoulder. The sound of the garment
plotch
ing into the lake froze his cocky smile.

Throwing her shirt into the water in the middle of seducing her was so Dan that Grace had to giggle. The horrified look on his face dissolved when she said, “Oops,” and f
lipped her palms open in a careless gesture. His smile was reward for a thousand misdemeanors.

She forgot them all when his clever f
ingers followed the path her shirt had taken, all the way back down, sliding over her arms, her rib cage, her hips. She lowered her hands to his shoulders and rubbed her breasts along his chest, the intimate contact only inflaming her further.

His quick intake of breath and the flex of his hips showed he enjoyed the first meeting of flesh on flesh as much as she d
id. He lowered his head, but bypassed her lips and instead, honed in on the ridge of muscle that joined her neck and shoulder. His teeth grazed her skin, his tongue laved the sting, his lips suckled her into his mouth, and she moaned wanting more, more, more.

Fingertips ran along the waistband of her shorts, dipped beneath the
line of her panties, then lowered everything, inch by inch. Soon she would be stark naked beneath the sun. Hmm, that had possibilities.

“Wait,” she said.

He froze, sighed, then slowly pulled her clothes back around her waist and buried his nose in her hair.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He straightened and the disappointment in his eyes made her heart turn over. Why did she think everything he did was so damned cute?

“I didn’t say stop,” she reminded him. “I just said wait.”

Confusion spread over his face, making him look like a lost, little boy, and ten times cuter than he’d looked a minute ago. She shook her head, took his hand, and pulled him over to the small wooden box attached to the corner of the raft. She knelt and opened the lid, pulled out a sealed, plastic bag, and took the blanket from inside. A flick of her wrists and the hard wooden floor of the raft was covered.

“Not the Taj Mahal but at least I won’t get slivers,” she said.

Slipping her thumbs into her waistband, she dropped her pants to the ground and stepped free. It had been far too long since she’d stood naked beneath the sun, and for a moment she just let the air warm her and the breeze caress her.

When she sat on the blanket and glanced at Dan she found him staring at her as if she were some foreign and exotic creature he might frighten if he moved too fast. His gaze wandered over her, causing heat without benefit of touch. He seemed punch-drunk, poor man.

“Dan?”

“Mmm?”

“Get undressed and come here.”

His eyes flicked from her legs to her face. She lay back and held out her arms. To his credit, he didn’t ogle, but continued to hold her gaze.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

She smiled. “Just don’t throw your pants in the lake.”

He didn’t.

His body blotted out the sheen of the sun. His weight pressed her into the blanket, warmed by the wood beneath her back. His scent, man and lake and lime aftershave, surrounded her, filled her with a strange emotion
—frantic desire and immense tenderness. Wherever his skin met hers she ached; she burned. No touch stopped the pain; no kiss soothed the fire. She liked it that way.

Fulfilling her every fantasy, she stroked him with her fingers, molded him along the heart of her palms, discovered every curve and dip. She buried her face in the curls that dusted his belly, rubbed her cheek along the contrast of hard muscle and soft hair, filled her lungs with the scent of his skin, and her mouth with the essence of him. With her hands she gathered him close, with her lips she adored, with her tongue she tasted.

Dan was a banquet and Grace a starving woman. She had not known how hungry her life had been until he knocked on her door and barged into her undernourished life.

His desire as ravenous as her own, she fed his hunger with her body, quenched his thirst at her lips. She did not feel s
atiated until he filled her emptiness, and his cry of release echoed her name.

Dan came back to himself because the sun was burning his butt. H
e didn’t have skin made for outdoor, daytime romps in the nude. But to experience again what he’d just experienced in the circle of Grace’s arms, within the gentle warmth of her body, he would risk Hell itself.

For sex?
his conscience mocked.

What had just happened had not been just sex. He’d had sex—not a lot, but he’d had it—and this had not been just sex. This had been . . .

What?

A life-altering, mind-bending, world-changing . . . something.

His spectacular brain couldn’t seem to come up with an adequate word to describe the meeting of body, mind, and soul that had just overtaken him. Had Grace felt it, too?

He started to withdraw, afraid he might crush her, but long, supple legs
clenched about his waist, holding him right where he was. His body jerked in response and she chuckled, low in her throat, the vibrations rumbling along his chest, making him want to nuzzle her hair, kiss her ear, crawl right inside her and stay warm forever.

“Shh,” she murmured, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him want to purr and cuddle. “Don’t go.”

“Where would I go?” He lifted his head so he could see her face.

She smiled, though her eyes remained closed, then rocked against him, the muscles of her inner walls tightening, making him hard far too soon to be believed. “Don’t
go
,” she repeated. Her eyes opened, and he tumbled into their dark depths. “Stay right here with me.”

“Okay.”

He was incapable of denying her anything right now. Probably incapable of denying her anything ever again.

So he didn’t deny her or himself. They romped once more beneath the sun, above the water. She whispered words in a multitude of languages, the exotic endearments enflaming him. His name breathed past her lips, over and over in English made him grin as he pressed his lips to her neck. She definitely knew who he was.

Slowly, achingly, he moved within her. Gently, easily, he took her with him over the edge one more time for good measure. To heck with sunburn, his body and soul were on fire with the miracle he and Grace made together.

Later, much later, w
hen they lay side-by-side, holding hands and watching the clouds, Dan experienced the greatest peace he’d ever known. What could be better than lying beneath the sun with a woman like Grace?