Hamptons Heartbreak: A Sizzling Summer Romance (A New York City Romance Book 4)

by Tara Leigh

  Another grin. “Nope.”

  I sigh and pull my hands away from my face, bracing myself against the edge and lowering my hips into the water inch by inch, finally letting go and dipping my head back to get my hair wet. I breathe out a deep sigh before pushing off the side wall, scissor-kicking until I’m in the middle of the pool, a few feet away from Lance.

  There’s still a buzz running through my veins, but my mind is clearing. I’m sure I’ll regret some, or most, of what I said at the restaurant, or maybe even getting undressed and swimming with Lance, but tomorrow feels as far away as the stars twinkling high above us. “Wanna swim a few laps?”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” he quips, then surges toward the shallow end, his wake splashing me in the face.

  “Hey!” I race after him, but the cheater has a head start and longer limbs.

  After a few laps, Lance pulls level with me, slowing his pace so we’re moving at the same speed. I wasn’t a competitive swimmer in college, but I did swim on my high school team, so I can competently execute a flip turn at each end, not breaking through the surface until I’m halfway to the other side.

  I don’t know how much time passes, and I lose count of the number of laps after twenty. But it isn’t long until my muscles are buzzing from exertion rather than alcohol. Until my thundering heartbeat and the struggle to keep my breaths steady is because of my pace rather than my proximity to Lance.

  I finally stop, clinging to the ledge at the deep end and panting. Tonight’s been . . . fun. And it’s been ages since I’ve just relaxed and let go like this. Regrets or no regrets, I’m having a great time right now. I’ll worry about reality and common sense tomorrow.

  “Hey Vivienne, you lose something?”

  It takes me a few seconds to turn around, and when I do, I see Lance standing in the middle of the pool, holding . . . my bra.

  Shit. I should have known a strapless bra would never survive those damn flip turns. “Throw it to me,” I call out.

  Now that I realize I’m not wearing it, sensation floods my breasts, my nipples furling into tight peaks that savor every ripple of the water.

  “If you agree to do something for me.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. “I thought you said I drank too much for that.”

  He chuckles. “This isn’t for me. It’s for you.”

  “Is it embarrassing?”

  “No.”

  “Am I going to regret doing it tomorrow?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Does it involve getting out of the pool?”

  “No.”

  There’s such a look of anticipation on Lance’s face that I decide to go for it. “Okay, I’m in. What am I doing?”

  A minute later, I realize that the reason I won’t regret it tomorrow is because I already regret it tonight.

  Chapter 14

  Lance

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You agreed.”

  “That was before I knew what I was agreeing to.”

  “Have you done it before?”

  “Of course not!” Vivienne is so absorbed in her own outrage that she doesn’t realize her breasts are rising above the surface of the pool with each choked inhale. In the moonlight, her skin is as radiant as alabaster, pale pink nipples capping the lush mounds of her breasts.

  “Come on—never?” I’m incredulous.

  “No. Until this summer, I’ve never had a pool all to myself. And I haven’t exactly been in the mood.”

  I study her face for signs of deception, but don’t see any. “All the more reason why you should.”

  “And you’ve decided tonight’s the night?”

  “Yes. Because, quite frankly, I don’t know that I’ve ever met a woman more deserving of an orgasm than you.”

  She makes a strange hiccupping sound in the back of her throat. “Sounds like you’re admitting you’re not capable of giving me one yourself.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Oh, I’m more than capable. But you’ve had too much to drink, and if I touched you tonight, I’d be the one regretting it in the morning.” I swim to the side of the pool and put a hand against the water jet. The pressure is perfect.

  “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  Vivienne lets go of the ledge and begins treading water halfway between me and the edge of the pool. “What if I say I don’t want to?”

  I look at her seriously. “Is that what you’re saying?” I would never force her, or any woman, to do anything against their will.

  Vivienne’s movements bring her closer to me, and it’s impossible to forget that there’s only one tiny scrap of clothing between us. “No. I’m sure it would feel amazing. I just . . .”

  Her fingers close over my shoulder, and it takes all my willpower not to pull Vivienne against my chest. “Don’t you think you deserve all the orgasms?”

  Her nervous laugh is carried away by the breeze. “Well, when you put it like that.” She covers her face with her hand, groaning into it. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “That’s my girl.” The possessive endearment slips out of my mouth before I think about what I’m saying. But what really surprises me is that I don’t immediately want to take it back.

  Not realizing how out of character it is for me, Vivienne only says, “What should I do?”

  I toss her bra on the pool deck. “Take off your panties.”

  Her eyes widen slightly, but then her hands disappear beneath the surface of the water, emerging with a black ball of fabric in her left hand. She throws it beside her bra. “Done.”

  “I’m going to put my hands on either side of your waist and bring you in front of me, okay?”

  She nods. “Okay.”

  Moving slowly, I find the curve of Vivienne’s waist with my hands, positioning her so that her back is to me and she’s facing the pool wall. We’re at a depth where I can stand, but Vivienne can’t.

  “I’m going to push you toward the jet. Tell me when you feel it against your lower belly.”

  A moment later, I feel the muscles of her stomach tense. “I feel it.”

  “Good. Now, hold on to the ledge and let your knees drift up and part.”

  A tremble shakes her body just as she whispers, “Okay.”

  “I’m going to bring you up a bit, and you’re going to feel the water pressure making a line straight down—”

  Her gasp tells me when I’ve hit exactly the right spot. “Lance,” she squeals.

  “Shh.” I drop a light kiss on her shoulder. “Just relax, give yourself over to it.”

  She makes a raspy sound low in her throat. Wanton and needy, it’s somewhere between a moan and a groan.

  I regret taking off my boxer briefs now. Because my dick is a steel fucking rod, throbbing feverishly every time it brushes up against Vivienne’s wet, satiny skin. Torture. Sweet, sweet torture.

  “Lance, Lance, Lance,” she chants my name, her body going rigid just before she jerks in my grasp, her entire body trembling from the force of her orgasm. I gradually pull her away from the jets so that the water pressure lessens, bit by bit.

  After a moment, I whisper, “Ready for round two yet?”

  She groans, shaking her head. Floating on the surface of the water, her hair sways against my collarbone like strands of silk. “No way. I can’t. It’s too strong, too much.”

  It’s fucking killing me not to slide a hand between her thighs and touch her myself. Feel the slick slide of her pussy, her puffy, swollen folds welcoming me. “You can, and you will,” I grit out. I need to hear her chant my name again. Need to hear those mindless moans and gasps and groans.

  I swirl her boneless body around in the water, making a figure eight in the shallow end before walking back toward the water jet I chose earlier. “This time, you’re going to roll from two into three.”

  “Three? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”
<
br />   She doesn’t say anything, but her thighs part, knees edging upward. “Good girl,” I say soothingly, positioning her pussy just a few inches in front of the jet. Her response is immediate. She goes stiff, letting out a sharp cry as the water pressure pummels her clit. This time, it’s barely a minute before she shrieks my name and jerks within my hold.

  Instead of moving her, I throw one arm around her waist and cover the water jet with my free hand. She immediately goes limp in my hold. “Catch your breath, you’re almost there.”

  “No, no. I can’t. Really, I can’t.” Her words are practically a sob, and I almost relent. Almost.

  “Will you try, Vivienne? For me?”

  She doesn’t say anything, and I think she’s going to refuse me. But finally, she jerks her head in a nod and whispers, “For you.”

  Pride slams into me like a mallet hitting bone, the force of it vibrating through my entire body.

  I drop a kiss on the top of her head. By now, her clit must be so swollen and sensitive, even a strong gust of air would make her tremble. I take my hand off the jet and grab one of her knees, pulling it toward her chest so that the water hits at a slightly different angle.

  Her response is immediate; a sharp, piercing scream as her body writhes in my arms. I only hold her there for a few seconds. That’s all she needs.

  The second I relax my grip, Vivienne surprises me by twisting herself around and wrapping her arms and legs around me, clinging to me like a sexually-sated monkey. She tucks her face between my shoulder and chin, her fast breaths little puffs of humid air against my collarbone, her eyelashes fluttering against the skin of my neck.

  I groan out a curse, my heart pounding unsteadily inside my chest. I want this girl so damn bad. But I can’t have her. Not yet.

  I meander around the pool, locking my arms around Vivienne’s waist and counting backward from one thousand in an effort to distract myself from the fact that my cock is only a few inches from the place it so desperately wants to be. Vivienne’s pussy.

  I’m in the hundreds when she whispers, “You were right. That was amazing.”

  A jolt of pleasure washes through me at her comment, though I would have preferred if she’d said You were amazing instead. “Well, now, you have something to do when you’re here alone.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same without you holding me.” She grows silent for a moment. “Can you . . . is it possible . . .”

  She’s still breathless, and I can’t help but wonder if the same dirty thoughts spinning inside my brain are lodged inside hers. I decide to throw caution to the wind. “Fuck you from behind while the jet hits you from the front?”

  Vivienne’s small hands bunch into fists at my shoulders. “Yes.”

  Christ. My cock can’t catch a break.

  “Yeah. It’s entirely possible,” I manage to grit out through clenched teeth.

  “I think I’d like that,” she says, her soft laugh cut off by a yawn.

  “Tired?” I ask.

  “Exhausted.”

  I’m about to carry her out of the pool when I stop at the bottom of the stairs.

  Vivienne pulls her head off my shoulders and blinks up at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Towels. We didn’t bring any outside.”

  She points at a weatherproof trunk set against the house, near the sliding glass doors. “I just restocked it with clean ones yesterday.”

  I grin and climb up the stairs, not setting her down until I reach the trunk. Lifting the lid, I pull out a thick towel and wrap it around Vivienne, then take one for myself.

  We’ve barely set foot inside the door when we realize it’s still uninhabitable. Not only are the paint fumes undiminished, but there isn’t a single mattress or piece of furniture in the entire house.

  We step back outside. I would have been perfectly content to spend the night on a deck chair, but those were returned to the rental company, too. “We’ll go to a hotel.”

  “Now?”

  “I didn’t bring a tent and sleeping bags with me.”

  She nudges me in the ribs with her elbow, then points toward two trees in a corner of the property. “We don’t need them, we can sleep in the hammock.”

  I follow the trajectory of her finger, noticing the dark smudge between the trees before looking back at her dubiously. “A hammock big enough for me?”

  She digs inside the trunk, throwing a few more towels at me before pulling out two tiki torches and a lighter. “It’s perfect. We’ll set these up on either side to keep away the mosquitoes, not that there are many this close to the water, and we can use our towels as blankets.”

  Vivienne closes the trunk, grinning. “And yes, the hammock is definitely big enough for a Viking and his conquest.”

  I lift a brow. “Conquest?”

  She flashes an impish smile. “Okay, maybe that’s a bit of wishful thinking on my part.”

  Chapter 15

  Vivienne

  I don’t even know how I’m standing right now. My muscles are quivering, my legs are about as steady as half-set gelatin.

  I’ve never had three orgasms in a row. Heck, I’ve never had three orgasms in three days.

  My head is spinning, my heart is racing, and every inch of me is tingling.

  Not from alcohol, though. Whatever buzz I had is definitely gone. Absorbed by a full dinner, our long swim, and three—three!—orgasms. And time. It’s been at least two hours since I drained my second margarita.

  Not that I’m sober. I am completely drunk on lust and pheromones. And Lance Welles.

  Once the tiki torches are lit, Lance sits down on the hammock and lies back, lifting his arms and motioning me forward. A few minutes ago, I was tired, but now . . .

  Now I’m about to get into a hammock with a Viking. I’m naked. He’s naked. Above us a canopy of constellations.

  I hesitate for only a second before easing into the sling.

  My towel comes undone as I stretch out against him, my skin like fire wherever it connects with Lance.

  Which is most of my body.

  My head is resting on his chest, the steady, sonorous thrum of his heart beating against my cheek. Lance’s arm is curved beneath my neck, his fingers wrapped around my shoulders. And the hammock has my entire body pressed against him, from my head to my toes and just about everything in between.

  We spend a minute or two adjusting the towels to form a multi-layered blanket. And then . . .

  Neither of us says anything.

  For a long, long time.

  Finally, I whisper, “Are you sleeping?”

  “No. I thought you were.”

  “No. I’m wide awake.” I shift slightly, my knee edging up, my thigh sliding over his.

  Lance groans. “Jesus, Vivienne. I really, really need you to go to sleep.”

  I angle my head back so I can look at him. “Why?”

  “Why?” he repeats, chuckling. “Because I won’t lay hands on an unconscious woman.”

  “You want to lay your hands on me?” I keep my voice light, teasing. But the truth is, I absolutely want his hands on me. I want his mouth on mine. And there’s another part of him I want inside of me, too. Fuck common sense. I’d rather live out a fantasy.

  “For a start.”

  I squirm, trying to alleviate the heat pulsing between my thighs. Lance doesn’t groan again, but his jaw clenches, and he lets out a deep sigh. I trace the numbers curving over his ribcage with my fingertip, then move to the lattice pattern forming a band around his biceps. Close up, I can see it’s not a pattern of interwoven lines but linked letters and numbers. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  My palm stills on his arm, my thumb idly stroking his inked skin. “What do they mean?”

  “That one’s the first code I ever wrote.”

  “And this one?” I shift my hand to his ribcage.

  “Location coordinates.”

  “For where?”

  “A cem
etery.”

  I swallow. I’m pretty sure I can guess who is buried there. “And the one on your back?”

  Instead of answering me, Lance asks, “Are you always this curious?”

  I think about all the people I’ve met this summer, the names I haven’t bothered to learn, the conversations I’ve shut down before they could start. “No.” I jump back to where we were before I got sidetracked by his tattoos. “Why can’t we? Start, I mean.”

  His eyes lock onto mine. “You know why.”

  “Lance, I drank two tequila shots and two margaritas. I had a little buzz at dinner that made me say a few things I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. But I’m certainly not drunk now. And I want you to touch me.”

  He blinks, that jaw clenching and unclenching as he considers what I’ve said, what I’m asking for. And I think it’s worked, that he’ll relent. But then he frowns and looks away, back up at the sky. “If you still feel the same tomorrow then I’m all yours.”

  Disappointment slaps me in the face, the sting so harsh that tears spring to my eyes. In the restaurant, Lance wondered why I didn’t just ask Richard for what I wanted. Now, after screwing up my courage to do just that with him, he turns me down flat.

  I’m tempted to get out of the hammock right now. Grab a blanket from the house and sleep on the pool deck, or in the front seat of Lance’s car. Maybe I should just pack my things and leave.

  But where would I go? I don’t know anyone in the Hamptons that sticks around during the week, besides Seth. And I’m not about to tell him that I’m lusting after his client.

  And I don’t want to leave. Not this house, or this man. But I’m not quite ready to give up on what I want, either. “In the pool, you asked me to do something for you, and I did.”

  “Technically, it was for you.”

  “That wasn’t the premise. Do something for me is what you said. Meaning you.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I’d like you to do something for me.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  He shifts to face me again. “What are you asking for?”