by Susan Fox
For a couple of minutes, we walked in silence. Then he said, almost grudgingly, “You’ve picked some good causes.”
I squeezed his hand. “Thanks.”
“I worked with a man who had Asperger’s syndrome. He was bright and did his job—statistical analysis—very efficiently.”
Asperger’s was a form of autism. “But he wasn’t much of a team player? Not into doing the social thing at the bar after work?”
“No.” He paused. “Though the same could be said for me. I’ve never been much for socializing.”
“You’re not bad once you get warmed up,” I teased, nudging a gentle elbow into his ribs.
His lips curved. “You do seem to warm me up.”
At the side of the path, a scattering of bits of cone—fresh, cast-off outside plates—caught my attention. “Squirrel,” I said, and we both stopped to gaze upward, looking for the creature that had been eating the nuts and discarding what it didn’t want. “There.” I pointed just as a gray squirrel, perched on a branch with its puffy tail curled over its head, chittered and scolded us.
We shared a smile, then walked on. “Seriously,” I said, “you do fine at conversation once you get going. You’re more comfortable with scientific talk than personal talk, though, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “It’s what I’m used to. My grandparents’ lives center around their work. At home, we talked mostly about work or my studies.”
“And even the chats about personal stuff were scientific,” I guessed.
“Uh, kind of. Why do you say that?”
“That molecular biology thing about relationships.”
“Yeah, that was typical.” His fingers tightened on mine for a moment. “I like talking to you. You kick me out of scientist mode. You make me think differently about things.”
“Thanks. I like talking to you, too. You’re interesting, thoughtful.”
The trail came out above a strip of sandy beach strewn with driftwood and rocks and washed by vigorous waves. “Let’s hike down,” Mark said.
“Sure.”
As we started down the steps that began the steep trail to the beach, he said, “This is called Agate Beach.”
Glass Beach earlier and now Agate Beach. He did have a way of finding interesting places, even if it was research rather than instinct that led him to them. “Tell me about agates. All I know is that they’re some kind of stone.”
“They’re a type of quartz, usually coming from volcanic rocks or lava.”
I listened to Agates 101, delivered in that surprisingly sexy professor mode. Carlos the surfer, the last guy I’d been with, had been gorgeous and athletic, a heavyweight between the thighs but pretty lightweight between his ears. It was a treat to be with an intelligent man.
Not that Mark didn’t measure up extremely well in the between-the-thighs department, from what I’d felt. I was looking forward to more intimate exposure.
When we got down to the beach, I took off my sandals and began to search for stones. Unlike on Glass Beach, the pretty agates were few and far between. It was fun hunting for them and a gleeful triumph each time I found one. Mark seemed content to follow in my meandering wake, hands in his pockets, admiring the treasures I held out to him.
“You’re not searching,” I complained.
“It’s more fun watching you. You’re like a kid, Jenna.”
I’d been told that many times, sometimes with a sneer and sometimes with approval. Mark’s smile put him in the latter group, thank heavens.
I stood near the water’s edge, hair streaming back in the breeze, breathing in the tangy salt air, and watching the sun sink lower in the sky. Then I turned to gaze at the other great view: the hot scientist. The wind only ruffled his hair, but it whipped the loose tank top against him, plastering soft cotton against firm muscles.
“Life’s there to enjoy, so why not dive in?” I’d been collecting agates with every intention of tossing them back when we finished our walk. I didn’t want to steal beauty from this lovely beach. Now I divvied the stones up and held out half to him. “Bet I can skip stones better than you.”
A grin touched his lips then disappeared. He dropped our two pairs of sandals, which he’d been carrying, and let me pour the stones into his hand. “How much do you want to bet?”
“How much? You have such a conventional mind. Let’s bet something more fun. Like … Loser has to strip off and go skinny dipping.”
“Jenna! It’s a public beach. And the water’s freezing cold, and the waves could be dangerous.”
“Oh jeesh, you’re no fun. And you’re a coward, Dr. Chambers. You know you’re going to lose.”
The quick grin reappeared. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m going to win.”
I liked that rare touch of male arrogance. “Oh, I see. So, it’s that you don’t want to see me naked.”
“Damn.” He ran a hand through his hair then rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, of course I do. I’m male, aren’t I?”
Oh, yeah! From those angular features to the broad shoulders and slim waist showcased by his tank top, the muscular legs in shorts, the hard thrust of cock I’d felt when we kissed. “Then get with the program. Skip away.” And I sure hoped he did lose, because I wanted him naked sooner rather than later.
The woman’s cockiness was appealing—so much about her was appealing—and Mark felt almost guilty about taking advantage. He’d spent a lot of hours beside oceans all over the world, monitoring measurements, supervising staff and volunteers, musing about research or papers he was working on. Rocks of all sizes had found their way into his hands, and he’d become a proficient stone-skipper.
When he won, she wouldn’t really strip down, would she? Did he want her to? Clothed, she was virtually irresistible. Naked …
“Best out of six tries?” she suggested.
He nodded. “You go first.”
“Want to size up what I’ve got?”
“I plan to be doing that once you lose.” He wasn’t flirting so much as stating the truth.
She gave an amused hoot. “Dream on, Science Guy.”
From the collection in her hand, she selected a stone. She arched back, breasts pressing full and unconfined against her tank top, and sent it zipping across the dark, ruffled surface of the water. She’d timed it well, between waves, and sent it far enough out that it hit an almost-flat surface. It bounced four times, then sank.
She applauded herself vigorously. “Let’s see you match that.”
He studied the selection in his hand. Smooth, flattish stones skipped best, ones that had a little heft but weren’t too heavy. Few of his agates met that description. For the first try, to get his arm warmed up and a feel for the water and wind, he chose one of the poorer ones. He’d save the three best for his last attempts.
He threw it low and easy, but its shape counted against it, and it only skipped three times.
Jenna booed, then threw a five, which had her jumping up and down, cheering.
The sun dipped toward the horizon, a huge golden ball that dazzled the eyes and cast stripes of light and shade over the water, adding to the challenge.
They took turns, with both of them ranging between three and five. Her scores were heading downward as she ran out of good stones. Her last throw was a two, accompanied by a disgusted, “That sucks.”
Mark held his last stone to his lips and breathed on it, as gamblers did with dice. It was his best. A six should be easy. He was about to throw when she said, “Looks like it’s going to be a tie.”
If he threw a six, she’d lose. If he threw a five, it would be a tie. Then what?
No way were they both going to strip and dash into the water. Were they? His breath quickened and his cock twitched at the thought.
The rational thing to do if they tied—or even if he won—was to laugh and call off the bet. If Jenna actually started to take her clothes off, what would he do?
“Mark? You going to toss the stone or throw in the towel?”
He took a breath, then let fly. Five skips. Exactly as he’d intended.
Expectantly, he faced Jenna. “Looks like it’s a tie.”
“Well now, didn’t that work out nicely?” In the fading light, her eyes gleamed and for the first time he wondered if this had been her plan all along.
“Sun’s almost down,” he pointed out. “It’s chilling off.”
“Then we’d better hurry up.” She reached for the hem of her tank top.
Tearing his gaze off her, he scanned the beach. It was almost deserted now, people no doubt heading to their campsites for dinner. The only ones left were a group at the far end, clustered around a driftwood shelter they’d been building. At that distance, in this light, he could only make out silhouettes.
When he turned back to Jenna, he gasped and froze, eyes locked on her.
She was naked from the waist up, tossing her top onto the beach.
Stunning. Sexy. Primitive, like a nature goddess, with her long, wild hair catching the last rays of sun, her slim, toned shoulders and arms, and those lovely, perfect breasts. Rose-tipped, just as he’d guessed. Shit, had he died and gone to heaven?
He sucked in air, chest heaving, cock pulsing and thickening, and took a step toward her. “Jenna.” His voice came out even huskier than usual and all he could manage were those two syllables.
Her laugh rippled through the evening air, light and golden as the fingers of fading sunlight that gilded the waves. “You’re falling behind.” She reached over to grab the bottom of his own tank top. When she lifted it, her fingers grazed his skin in a touch he thought was deliberate.
They were going to do this. They really were.
Anticipation and lust raced through his veins, and he grabbed his top out of her hands and yanked it off. He was breathing fast, like he’d been running, and his chest pumped to get air.
Jenna smiled approval and reached for the waist of her shorts.
He mirrored her movements, undoing his own button, lowering his zipper. Under his zipper, a rising bulge pressed insistently, demanding release. He grabbed the waist of his shorts and tugged downward, and a moment later stood naked but for light cotton boxers.
Jenna … Holy shit. If she’d been wearing underwear, she’d skimmed it off with her shorts because, as she straightened from pulling them off, she was naked. Utterly naked.
So beautiful, the sight of her stole his breath.
She was slim, but with gentle, womanly curves and a tiny vee of dark gold curls between her thighs. He wanted to bury his face between her legs, run his fingers through those curls, then down to the softness of her inner thighs. To smell her, taste her, explore every intimate, erotic inch with his fingers, his lips, his tongue.
When he focused on her face, he saw the knowing smile of a woman who was confident of her effect.
Wordlessly, he pulled off his boxers and watched as her gaze lowered and she saw the effect she had on him. Was it his imagination, in this dim light, or did her throat ripple with a swallow?
What was she thinking? Did she, too, want to touch and taste?
At the thought of her pink lips wrapped around his shaft, he barely managed to suppress a groan.
She grabbed his hand, her fingers a little chilly. “Together. On three. One … two … three!”
Together they ran across the pebbly beach. Icy cold water nipped their toes as they splashed through the fringe of waves. Mark’s erection quickly subsided as they forged ahead, up to their knees now, then their thighs. The water hit his genitals and they shriveled. Would he ever see them again? “Jesus, it’s freezing!”
“Faster! If we don’t keep running, we’ll get too cold.”
And if they kept running and submerged themselves, they’d get hypothermia. Still, he let her tug him forward until she let out a whoop and threw herself forward into a wave, taking him with her.
Shock made them let go hands, and when he submerged he saw her beside him, scooping masses of wet hair back from her face, laughing even as shivers wracked her.
Much as he loved the ocean, now was not the time to be in it. He grabbed her hand again and tugged her toward shore, moving as quickly as his rapidly numbing legs would take him.
When they cleared the ocean and reached the beach, she wrapped herself around him, a bundle of icy-cold, shivering limbs and breasts. At first, he was so chilled he barely registered the contact, but then their bodies began to heat.
Blood surged through his veins, almost painfully as he went quickly from icy to warm. Warm, at least, wherever his skin met hers.
She wriggled closer, arms tight around him, and he returned the embrace, gripping her butt. Her breasts were so soft against his pecs, and the curls of her pussy hair teased his groin. Hello, the shrinkage hadn’t been permanent. His frozen cock began to fill and he eased their bodies apart slightly, to let it lift up his belly, then he closed the gap again, sandwiching his erection between them.
“God, Jenna, I want you.”
Voice breathy, teasing, she said, “Well, it’s about ti—”
His kiss cut off the last word and they both flung themselves into it, mouths open, lips demanding, tongues thrusting and mating. Desire and need were irresistible now. Who cared if this made sense? They had to have sex.
Now.
Somehow, he had enough presence of mind to remember they were embracing naked on a public beach. He forced himself away from her, grabbed up their clothes, and looked desperately around for a private spot.
She pointed. “I think they’ve gone.”
As best he could see, the people who’d been building a shelter had deserted the makeshift driftwood structure.
He followed Jenna as she hurried toward it, her back and tumbling hair pale in the fading light, her butt seductively curvy.
Driftwood logs and planks of assorted sizes, loosely piled together with many gaps between them, formed four sides and a roof. There was no actual entrance, only one side where the space between two logs was wider. She bent and slipped through it.
He tossed their clothing and shoes inside and climbed in after her. The structure wasn’t high enough for them to stand upright, and besides, it wasn’t standing he had in mind. Fortunately, the builders had picked one of the rare sandy patches on the beach, so, when he caught her around the waist and tumbled the two of them down, himself on the bottom, his back grazed rough sand rather than rocks.
Laughing softly, she shifted to her knees, straddling his thighs. “Oh yeah, Mark. I knew you had potential.”
His swollen shaft rose between them and she grasped it in one hand, purring, “Mmm, nice.”
His cock was harder than he remembered it ever being. Her fingers, stroking down his shaft, teasing the crown, were more than he could take. Her rings added teasing friction. He’d explode in her hand like a kid if she kept this up. Usually he was a good lover, one who understood foreplay and would do his best to satisfy his woman. But this thing with Jenna, since he’d seen her walking toward the diner a few hours ago, was different. This was primal. “Jenna, now,” he said, trying not to beg. “I need you now.”
“Yes, me too,” she breathed urgently. “Right now.”
Thank God.
She let go of him, shifted, and suddenly he remembered. “Shit, no condom.”
Her husky laugh sent ripples of longing through him. “And here I thought you were the kind of guy who’d always be prepared.”
He was. Just not for sex. Not for Jenna Fallon.
She hooked her discarded shorts with one hand and tugged them over to reach in the pocket. “You brought a park map, Dr. Chambers. I brought … Ta da!” She flourished a condom. “Now who’s more prepared?”
“You are, and thank God.” He grabbed it from her hand and ripped the package open, blood surging through his veins, the deep ache inside him demanding release. Still straddling him, she eased back and somehow he got the thing rolled onto his erect penis.
Then guilt hit him. He’d never been so sel
fish, so need-driven. “Are you sure …?” He tried to read her expression, but the light was too dim.
Her amused voice, though, was certain. “Idiot, of course I am. And yeah, I’m ready. Feel.”
She caught his hand and brought it to the apex of her thighs. Their bodies were still damp from the ocean, but this moisture was different. Hotter, thicker, and as he caressed her lush folds, the sultry scent of her arousal rose in the night air, inflaming him even further.
“Now,” she said. “You and me.” She grasped his shaft again and rose up on her knees, lifting herself above him.
He opened her with his fingers as she guided him to her opening. Her steamy moisture bathed the head of his cock and he nudged eagerly, spreading her lips, easing into her.
Oh, she felt good, snug and steamy, the sensation so wonderful it was almost more than he could bear. The urge to thrust deep, to pound into her, rose hard inside him and he fought against it.
Instead, he held still as she lifted up and cool air brushed his damp flesh, a pleasant contrast to her heat. Hands braced on his chest, she leaned forward, hips tilting to shift the angle so that when she slid down again, she took him even deeper.
“Oh, yes, Mark,” she whispered, eyes gleaming in the dusky light.
Wanting to kiss her, he tried to pull her forward but she resisted, arching back instead, straightening as she rose and fell. Wet hair straggled down to frame her lovely face, and her firm little breasts bobbed as she rode him.
Despite the chill night air, his blood was hot and thick, his cock so swollen it ached, and the need to find release coiled tight at the base of his spine. “Jenna, Jesus, this is good.”
He couldn’t hold back. His balls were tightening.
She whimpered and writhed against him, and he slid his hand between their bodies, found the engorged bud of her clit, and gently squeezed it.
“Oh, yes,” she cried. “Yes, more.”
Gasping for breath, needing to come, he squeezed again, a little harder, then his orgasm poured through his body, sweeping away everything but a sensation so intense that bliss and pain mingled together.
She cried out again, a high note of pleasure as he plunged hard and deep inside her. The internal spasms of her climax surged around him, ripples that caressed him as he thrust again, more weakly. And again, until he had nothing more to give.