A Taste of Sugar

by Marina Adair

  “I know it’s not bikini bottoms, but they’ll do.” She laughed, which he should have guessed was her subtle way of telling him they were going to go for a swim, because without warning she reached up to her ponytail, pulled out the rubber band, and said, “Hair down, right?” then jumped.

  Right off the fucking boat. Vanishing beneath the surface, but not before giving him an inspiring view of that world-class ass he loved.

  Jace held his breath until she surfaced, then he held it a little longer because, man, she was amazing. Hair loose and sticking to her skin, lips moist and glistening, her face lit with giddy mischief. And there was something about the way the water reflected in her big green eyes, making him want to dive in, headfirst like she said, and never come up.

  “Is it cold?”

  “Nope.” She cupped her hands and made a wave of water that hit the side of the boat. “It’s perfect.”

  “I can see the goose bumps from here.”

  She laughed and went under again. This time when she surfaced she was right next to the boat, and her hands weren’t empty. Nope, seductress Barbie held two balls of wet pink lace, which she tossed into the boat. “Does it matter?”

  “Hell no,” he said, untying his boots.

  “Good.” Her tone was pure temptation. “Because my fantasy is you, in nothing but lake water, giving me a religious experience that has me moaning the Lord’s name.” She rested her arms on the edge of the boat and whispered, “And I’m not talking about a Southern baptism.”

  She pushed off to swim backward, giving him an unobstructed view of her front and rocking a whole lot more than the boat. The playful looks and let’s-get-naughty tone were too much, winding around him and driving him completely insane.

  He’d told her he needed more, and she informed him in the most creative way that she was not only open to more, but that she wanted to go after it headfirst. Which was fine by him, since that finally, finally, put them both on the same page and, as far as he was concerned, was something to celebrate. With steamy, hot, lake sex.

  Sure, it sounded like something a bored debutante would do with the local hell-raiser, but Charlotte wasn’t a bored debutante, and he was no longer that hell-raiser. So he would have her moaning all right.

  As soon as he got his damn boots off.

  In a frantic attempt to undo his pants, he nearly capsized the dingy, and Charlotte laughed. Then after he ransacked every single pocket looking for—bingo!—a condom, all of his clothes joined hers at the bottom of the boat, and she stopped laughing altogether. Because he gave her a look that meant it was on, then dove in.

  Headfirst.

  The second he broke the surface the little remaining oxygen left his lungs, because damn, it was cold. And this was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. But he’d swum this lake in fall before, without the promise of a creative way to get warm or the promise of more. And he’d survived. He could do it again, only this time when he surfaced he’d be holding on to forever.

  As though his body could pick her out in the million gallons of water, he came up right next to what he’d been looking for. He could feel her legs, smooth and elegant, brushing against his as she treaded water. Other things brushed too as she slowly glided closer until he could see the water droplets clinging to her long lashes and the way her lips parted when his hands settled on her hips.

  He ran one palm up her side and around her back and she shivered. “You’re freezing.”

  “I figured you could find a way to keep us warm.” Her arms slid around his neck, and her legs drifted around his middle. They moved with the current as he kept them afloat, every ripple of water bringing them closer together, bringing her soft body flush with his.

  “Like this?” He ran his hands down the impossibly soft skin of her back, and lower, until he molded them to her bare ass, taking a cheek in each hand. World-class indeed.

  She shivered again as, little by little, he steered her closer and even closer still, until the sensation of their slick skin sliding back and forth was enough to create a spark of heat that flashed in her eyes.

  “Warmer,” she mused, threading her fingers through his hair and scattering droplets of cold water down his neck. “Definitely warmer.”

  “I was going for inferno.” And to prove it he kissed her, his lips gliding over her frozen ones, slow and deep, and like accelerant on a match, she ignited. She was laying a kiss on him that was needy, erotic, and so raw he forgot to keep kicking, and it took them both under, the water closing over their heads.

  Instead of stopping, Charlotte’s eyes opened and met his, and as she smiled her hands tightened in his hair. And then, holy hell, she kissed him as the water caved in around them, the bubbles sliding over, between, past them, until they were so deep he couldn’t see the surface. Until his lungs were burning and the urge to inhale was so strong he was convinced they were both going to pass out from sheer need and lack of oxygen.

  Even then they both held on, knowing that when they broke the surface everything would be different. Or maybe this was, once again, him hoping that things would be different. Maybe Charlotte was just enjoying the hell out of their kiss.

  Nope, she felt it, too. It was right there in the way she held him, the way she curled herself around and into him, all of the things she hadn’t said were on the surface, for someone who knew what to look for.

  And Jace knew what to look for. And fucking loved what he saw.

  She was drinking him in as though he was more necessary than breathing. One hand gripped his head as though she’d rather drown with him than let go, while the other nimbly made its way south.

  Jace did the only thing he could, he held on tight and slowly started kicking for them both. Easing them toward the surface without breaking contact. And when they came up they were closer to the dock than the boat, which worked for him.

  He guided them under the wood platform and up against the weathered pylon. The crisp autumn air moved off the lake and wrapped around them, rustling the leaves nearby and sending scattered shards of sunlight through the cracks between the slats of the dock.

  Able to touch the bottom, Jace pinned her body between the pylon and his chest, then stood. Water sluiced off them like a waterfall. Hands still firmly on her ass, he rested his forehead against her so they could both take in air. “Are we hot yet?”

  With a soft smile she kissed him, her mouth moving in a languid but confident manner. And those nimble fingers, they stroked him from base to tip and back again, and just when he thought his legs would buckle, she positioned him at her slick heat. “Hot, yes. But I thought we were going for inferno.”

  “I need to get the condom on,” he said, thanking, miracle of miracles, that it wasn’t at the bottom of the lake, and knowing it had been sheer survival instinct in action that allowed him to maintain hold. But he had, and thank Christ he had, because even though they were submerged in freezing cold water, she was ready.

  And he was more than ready. “But I need to get us to dry land.”

  “Okay,” she moaned, her hands back to making promises he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out long enough to collect on. “Fast.”

  “Baby, you keep on doing that and I guarantee it will be lightning fast.” Only she didn’t slow down, she wrapped her hand around him. So he let his hands do a little wandering of their own, loving how her skin felt wet and slick under her palms. How hard her nipples budded from the cold, and how they budded even harder at his touch.

  “You are so fucking amazing,” he said, and she tightened her grip slightly, then squeezed. He was going to come right there, in her hand.

  “I refuse to wait here all day.”

  Jace froze. Charlotte froze, too, her eyes meeting his and widening, because although the person speaking was female it sure as hell wasn’t Charlotte.

  There was a bang at the front door, then, “I know you’re in there.”

  Darleen? Jace mouthed slowly, making sure to raise a brow so she understood
his question.

  Charlotte nodded and closed her eyes. I am so sorry, she mouthed back.

  He caught her face and delivered a gentle kiss because, God, he didn’t want her feeling guilty about things she had no control over. It’s okay. She’ll leave soon.

  What if she doesn’t?

  She will.

  She had to. Her appearance left them stranded under the dock, with Charlotte’s breasts bared for his viewing pleasure and her hands wrapped around him. He watched the panic growing in her expression, and he wanted so badly to make this okay. To make it so that something that started out as amazing didn’t end in disaster.

  He weighed their options. Getting back in the boat would cause too much noise, and going onto dry land wasn’t going to happen. Which left staying put, with his dick millimeters from sinking into home, with Charlotte naked and shivering—no longer from need.

  He pulled her close and she nuzzled against his neck. His hands moved up and down trying to keep the chill from settling.

  “You aren’t going to win this, and you know it,” Darleen hollered.

  Charlotte’s breathing changed, or maybe it was her heartbeat, but he felt the shift through his body. Felt her body relax and her lips open on his skin. Then there was the slight rotating of her hips against him, and he felt sweat bead on his forehead.

  “I can hear your cell ringing inside the house,” Darleen accused.

  A small smile tugged Charlotte’s lips, and her hands softened as she leaned in and, using every one of her superpowers to draw him in, captured his mouth.

  “I mean it, Charlotte.” Bang bang bang. “Open up. Or answer my calls. Or I call the rest of the board.”

  And she kissed him, slow and deliberate, taking her time to rebuild the heat. She didn’t close her eyes so he didn’t, either, instead watching the connection pool while they made out ten feet from one of the biggest bigmouths in town, who was threatening to kick down her door.

  Only Charlotte wasn’t scared. Nope, she released his mouth and slowly rose up and slid down the outside of his length, doing that thing with her lower lip. On purpose. She was completely, totally, one hundred percent turned on. Showing no signs of slowing down.

  Condom, he reminded her, gripping her hips before she drove them both home.

  Pill, she mouthed back a little sassy and, God bless her, Charlotte was indeed a master planner, because she turned what was a problem of epic proportions without a variable solution into the sexiest fantasy he could have ever imagined.

  She rose up, all the way up, so fucking high that her breasts grazed his chest, then his chin, then his mouth and, without making a single ripple in the water, slid back down.

  All.

  The.

  Way.

  Down.

  Taking him in one fluid, excruciatingly slow, and completely mind-blowing thrust.

  Jace’s hips jerked up, how could they not? He had Dr. Charlotte Holden naked and panting, under a dock in fucking Sugar Lake. This was better than in his Camaro. Better than stairwell sex. Better than anything he’d ever experienced, because it was more. Sure, it was hot and erotic, but it was about connection and sharing, being open to all the possibilities that could come.

  And just when he thought he’d die from the pleasure, she did it again and he had to amend his previous statement. The second pass was even better, because it meant they’d gone even further down that path, only the water lapped at the movement, gently but enough to splash against the far pylon.

  He gripped her hips and, holding her still, put a finger to her lips. Shhhhh. A move Charlotte clearly took to heart since she sucked his finger in her mouth while tightening her muscles—all of her muscles—around him in a move that rewrote the book on seduction.

  Fuck! Sweat beaded on his forehead from the strain of not moving. Because how could she do that move and expect him to stay still?

  “Was that a statement or a command?” she whispered against his ear, making sure her lips grazed the outer shell.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he said, equally as hushed.

  “I like the heat.” She also liked to nip, because her teeth sank into his lobe, and it was game fucking on.

  Message received so loud and clear he didn’t need a manual on communication to understand. He’d gotten it wrong all these years. His prim little miss wasn’t looking for a bad boy to show her trouble, she was looking for a partner in crime—someone who matched her in every way. And suddenly Jace didn’t feel so lost. With her, right here in Sugar, he actually felt as if he belonged. As if his fascination with trouble was an asset, a shared foundation that led to a deeper understanding. Of each other.

  To prove to her that he was more than up to that challenge, he showed her a few things from his wild-card résumé that had her biting back a moan.

  She released a wicked smile and, yup, Miss Peach was a closeted exhibitionist who got off on making trouble. And God’s honest truth, with her, so did he.

  He moved, slow and sure, at first, all the way out, then sank back in, and Charlotte’s head fell back against the pylon. She watched him through hazy eyes as he ducked his head to kiss down her neck to her chest and finally those perfect tens.

  “Fine!” Darleen said, right as Charlotte let out a little purr. Then a bigger one. “I’ll go to the source, and if you need help with the parade, make sure to lose my number!”

  Darleen’s heels clacked across the porch and down the steps, allowing Jace to up the pressure, the pace, until Charlotte was panting. Biting her lip to keep from screaming.

  “God, more,” she hissed. Her legs tightened around his middle, and she crushed her mouth to his.

  He gave her more as the sound of crunching gravel got farther and farther away, and the sound of Charlotte’s moans came closer and closer together. And then, halla-fucking-lujah, all he could hear was the water lapping, their bodies sliding, and Charlotte exploded around him. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her legs strangled all the air from his lungs as she fought for purchase, and with one final surge right when she tightened, he followed her over, kissing her to keep from crying out.

  He wanted to hear her scream “Oh God” almost as much as he wanted to hear her scream “Fuck me, Jace.” But what he wanted more was to carry her into the house, up into the master bath for a hot shower. Then round two, only this time he’d wake up with her in his arms.

  Instead he heard a ringing. Coming from the dingy. His phone. With great effort Charlotte pulled her head off his shoulder and met his gaze. The dingy was twenty feet from them, visible from the dock and close enough that anyone who was looking—and he knew that if his phone blew up Darleen would be looking—could see their clothes strewn around the bottom.

  It rang again, and Jace held his breath because those heels they’d thought were gone clicked back over, closer and closer with every ring. Charlotte looked up at him, her hair a wet mess, her eyes wide and pleading with him to make it better.

  The phone gave one final ring, then blessed silence.

  “Um, yeah, hi, Jace, it’s Darleen. Darleen Vander.” She paused and he could hear the confusion in her voice. “I was calling to see if I could swing by the shop, maybe take you to lunch so I can pick your brain about all those cars we have coming. I can’t map out the fair until I have numbers, so anytime you could spare would be appreciated. ’Bye now.”

  She disconnected and Jace held still. Between the most intense sex of his life and waiting for his phone to chirp with a voice mail, he was certain he was going to have a heart attack. He could feel Charlotte’s pulse skyrocketing, too. So he took her face between his hands and gave her a gentle, we got this kiss, and to his amazement she kissed him back, I know.

  His phone chirped, but it was muffled by the distance and could have been a bird or something else. Darleen waited another few seconds, then with a huff she clicked her way back to the car.

  When her engine started Jace let himself breathe. He dropped his head to Charlotte’s
shoulder and said, “That was close.”

  “I know. It makes me rethink things,” she said so seriously he paused, because no way in hell was she putting on the breaks now. Sure, they almost got caught, and yeah, it would have caused some serious issues around town. Nothing they couldn’t handle. But when he looked up she was smiling and his heart did a little ping-pong action in his chest. “Maybe we should stick with your list. Naptime shenanigans sounds dryer and warmer.”

  Chapter 16

  Jace had repaired some of the most damaged cars in racing history. He’d designed a next-generation fuel injection system, built engines from the block up, and in under sixty seconds repaired ones on their last lap. He knew how to plan for the win and make split-second decisions to guarantee one. What he didn’t know how to do was manage a teenage girl picking out car colors.

  “I like the sky blue,” Payton said, holding the sample and studying the way the sun reflected off of it, as though this decision would become one of historical significance. She held up the second sample and paused. “But this other blue is a bit brighter. More Tiffany.”

  Harvey, an old-timer who’d been painting cars since before the Stingray was invented and still ran one of the best auto-body restoration shops in the country, looked at Jace, his eyes glazed over with confusion. And maybe a touch of hopelessness.

  Jace shrugged. He had no idea who Tiffany was or how she weighed in on the decision. All Jace knew was that Harvey had done him a solid driving all the way out here just to look at the car, bring color samples, and give them a fair bid. And an hour to decide between two shades of blue wasn’t the way to repay his generosity.

  Jace had dropped the seat frames off at the upholstery restorer yesterday, when Charlotte had gone to work after naptime shenanigans, and until the guy knew what color to match the blue piping, he was at a standstill. And with the parade just over a week away, every day was crucial.

  “So which one will it be, honey?” he asked Payton, trying to sound encouraging rather than irritated. “The original blue or Tiffany’s blue?”