Roger swallowed the mass of saliva in his throat. “You know, I’m really hungry. Why don’t we skip this and go have a pizza and some beer? We could ...”
But he trailed off because her eyes danced back and forth with ... excitement. How could she be so unshaken? Caroline wrapped her shackled arm around his neck and pulled him close until her nose was nearly touching his. She jutted her chin seductively and batted her eyelashes. He focused on the way the golden flecks in her pupils sparkled. Challenge lay in their depths. Her words fanned his face with bravado. “I believe you’re chickening out. Or maybe you’re afraid I will cave? Come on, Mr. Big Talk, let’s do this.”
The couple in front of them was doused with canola and pushed toward the ropes. They swiped shiny lather from their eyes and reached up with shackled hands.
Roger’s arm yanked skyward without his volition as Caroline closed eyes, her head raised and mouth shut, and flung her arms out as if she was about to be nailed to a cross. With that pose, it was easy to admire the shape of her neck and the curve of her breasts beneath her shirt, a red, slinky top with short sleeves. In a couple seconds it would be—
Splash. Ruined.
Roger spit the oil from his mouth. He smelled like a greasy peanut. “Hey, a little warning would have been nice.” He rolled his fists over both eyes until it felt safe to open them.
Caroline was attempting the same, which made it easy to take another quick glance at her figure through the wet fabric. With her fingers dripping goo, she blinked three times—her lashes thick with a greasy sheen. She choked out a laugh. “Okay, let’s go, Slick. Pun intended.” She reached for the rope ladder and his arm jolted after her; Roger had no choice but to climb.
Oil rolled down the inside of his shirt and into the crack of his briefs. Oh, that feels great.
Caroline pushed up the ladder with relative ease, considering their feet slipped on most of the rope rungs the first try. He’d better book it if he didn’t want to pull them both down. Three rungs up, he glanced below to see a shiny puddle on the ground. Hmmm. If they happened to miss a rung and slide down, he could probably break the fall—but she’d likely slither off him like syrup rolling over a pancake. “You know, this would have been much more fun if they’d used something tasty…like syrup.”
Caroline’s foot slipped but she caught herself. “And get swarmed by bees or flies? No thank you.”
“Watch it Caro—as in Karo syrup.”
“Har. Har.”
He shoved up beside her to the top of the rope ladder and watched her as she rolled onto the platform above. Her clothes clung to her like cellophane, leaving nothing to the imagination. Caroline had a nice frame—small, thin, and waif-like. Unlike him. He settled beside her and pointed at the tube beyond. “There’s no way we’ll fit in there together, no matter how well we’re greased up. So who goes first?”
Caroline ran the back of her free hand over her face in a failed attempt to de-grease herself. “I have a feeling if I go first, you’ll be staring at my ass all night. So, I vote for you.”
He grinned, not because she was right but because he’d already noted the way the polka dots on her bra were visible through the slickened fabric of her shirt. Would the panties match? He shrugged. “So let it be done.”
Roger rolled over Caroline, glancing briefly into her eyes and noting the way the light reflected off the sheen of her lips. He wanted to taste them again—regardless of how many people watched.
Someone yelled from below. “Move it along, you two. Save that for later—there are people waiting.”
Roger’s wet leg slipped between hers. Damn. He felt every slippery inch of that fine waifish body against him. He coughed and crawled into the tube. “Whoops.”
“Wait.”
Roger looked back.
“Turn around. The chain’s not long enough. Go backward, and I’ll go forward.” She did a little curled movement with the index finger of her free hand.
“Good idea.”
He pulled backward, rotated, and wedged himself feet-first into the tube. Crawling backward would be a lesson in agility and self-control. But there was one additional problem. Going backward also involved staring into her slickened face the entire way—or looking past and trying not to stare at the lipid curves of her back, hips, or legs. He was screwed.
“By the way, I thought you should know that you’re oiled up like a body builder in a world fitness competition. I can see every inch of you.”
He grinned. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you. So, you’re checking me out, are you?”
She put a hand to his face and squeezed his cheek. Her fingers slipped. “Roger, I checked you out when you first dove into my car. You really think I would have driven anywhere with you if I hadn’t summed you up and deemed you—”
“Harmless?” He wasn’t sure he liked the implication. Did he want her to think he was harmless?
Caroline licked her lips, doing nothing to remove the oil. “That wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind, but you didn’t appear to be a rapist or a mass-murderer. No.”
Roger lumbered backward through the tube, drawing Caroline along, luring her closer. “That’s good to know.”
She looked over his shoulder. “There’s a turn coming up, then a bit of a climb.”
He tried to peer over his shoulder. “How the hell am I going to go backward up a ladder?”
“I’ll push you.”
He leveled his eyes with hers. “Seriously? Look at me. I’ve got at least a hundred pounds on you. You really think you can push me up that thing with all this extra lubrication? No way. Let’s get to the bottom of the ladder, then you crawl under me and we’ll climb it together. It looks a little wider there; we can probably fit.”
A loud scream pierced their ears, then a mass of giggling. “Wonder what that was all about.”
Judging by the laughter, he assumed someone was enjoying this almost as much as him. He shook his head. “No idea. Let’s move though or the next group will catch us.” There was something intimate about being cooped up in a six-foot space together. He knew there were at least forty other people around them either inside or outside of the maze. But still, this little section was theirs.
Roger back-crawled into the opening of the ladder, keeping his chained arm low, then stood and made space for her to join. Caroline slithered in and palmed the walls as she wedged herself against him. Rising to her feet, her face was inches from his chin. Good thing she was so petite; they’d never fit together otherwise. As it was, they fit perfectly. She looked into his eyes and blinked. God, he liked the way her eyes looked like rounded almonds in the light. She stilled, her mouth parted as if waiting. There was no way he could let the moment pass—it was too perfect. He bent down and passed his mouth lightly over hers, tasting the oil mixed in with her lip gloss. An odd mix of vegetable fat and ... strawberries. Unusual, but he liked it. He bit gently against her lower lip and delved in for another taste, longer this time. Deeper. Caroline adjusted her head and opened her lips for him. Seconds ticked by.
“Ahem.” Someone coughed. Uh-oh. The couple following them had caught up.
Caroline smiled. “We’d better get moving.”
He nodded and held still as she curled around and pressed her back against him. Gulp. Roger enclosed her in his arms and legs and they crawled up the ladder together. Focus on anything else. Anything but the fact that he was oiled to the max and pressed against this delicious little thing who had just kissed his brain cells into orbit.
His mind was cluttered with too many confusing thoughts to utter a word. Her thighs, cradled against his, rubbed and glided in unison with his movements. Her back fit perfectly into the space between his arms. They climbed to the top in silence. As the tube opened to night air, they looked up to see the flickering stars. To their left, a platform led to a slide. He glanced at the bottom. The slide ended in the pool, where bubbles and puddles of oil coated the top of the sea-green water. He really sh
ould have asked more about the party before committing. Neither of them were dressed for a shindig that involved getting this wet and slippery.
“Fresh air.” Caroline sucked in a deep breath and he noted the way her chest pressed into him. It was too much.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here. I’m dying.” Dying to finish whatever that kiss had started, he thought. He was a moron, a sex-starved, hormonal idiot—like every other student in his fraternity.
Loud voices rose over the music that blared from speakers nearby. A screaming match had ensued between Nathan Chenton, the president of the fraternity, and his girlfriend. He grabbed her by the arm and marched her to a more private spot below their perch.
The girl whirled to face her date. “Are you kidding me? I am not going in there and ruining this.” She ran a hand down her bikini top and matching sarong. Obviously she had seen the party agenda and dressed appropriately, so what was the problem?
“Lannie, it’s a swimsuit. That’s what they’re made for: getting wet.”
Lannie dropped a hand on her hip and bobbled her head from left to right. “This is a three hundred dollar outfit. I am not slathering it in frying grease. I thought you were using water.”
“We are.” He lifted a chained hand and yanked hers up to point at the pool. “Look. We go through the jungle gym and rinse off in the water.”
Lannie yanked the chain from her wrist and tossed it toward his chest. “We aren’t doing anything. I am not ruining my suit or dousing my hair in that mess—I just had it colored this morning. You go ahead without me.”
She was cold as an ice cube in her three-hundred-dollar, made-to-be-sexy suit. Not to be deterred, Nathan held up the chain. “Looks like I need a sub, ladies. Anyone interested?”
Lannie slapped his face. “You slither around in there with one of those sluts and I’m gone, asshole.”
He shrugged. “Okay, then. Bye.” Holding up his hand, he wiggled his fingers until the chain dangled free.
Roger sighed and leaned into Caroline’s ear. “In case anything else happens, I just wanted to say thank you.”
She met his eyes. “For what? We’re not done yet.”
“For being a good sport. Not many girls would be willing to do this.”
She glanced at the bikini-clad blonde who disappeared through the crowd. “Obviously. Good thing for you I shop at Target and don’t dye my hair.”
He reached his hand to his chest, yanking hers atop as well, and clutched the oily fabric of his shirt. “Be still my heart! You’re perfect.”
She laughed and stepped toward the slide. “That’s right. No wonder you’re falling for me and following me everywhere I go.”
Yep, especially with handcuffs involved, he thought. If only she knew how true that statement could become. She sat down on the edge, yanked on the chain, and he plopped to her side at the top of the slide. Would she still feel chipper once they were soaked to the skin and freezing without a change of clothes? “Come on, ball, your chain’s on the run. Just be glad it’s not bikini Twister. I hate that game—so unoriginal.”
Uh oh. Obviously she hadn’t seen the Twister game at the far corner of the yard. Roger scooted his legs to fit around Caroline and noted how perfectly they melded together within the confines of the waterslide. “So unoriginal. You ready?”
He pushed off before she had a chance to answer. Her laughter was a fresh relief compared to the numerous screams he’d heard earlier. Who was this girl, and where had she been for the first three years of his college life?
Chapter Five
The following morning, Caroline blinked an eye open and stared at the large plastic trophy on the floor beside her bed. Meanwhile, Roger was spooned against her in nothing but a pair of her old roommate’s shorts. Her legs rubbed warmly against the hairs on his thighs. She’d offered him a shower after returning to her apartment the night before, and the shorts were the only things she had large enough for him to change into. She’d showered after him and put on shorts and a T-shirt, and somewhere along the line, they’d both fallen exhausted into bed. Fully clothed, of course. She was adventurous but not stupid. Still, her clothes felt too thin at the moment.
The inscription on the trophy was like an omen. It made her nervous.
Most Likely to Stay Chained.
Technically, they’d come in third place. But the judges must have admired their courage—noting she was fully clothed, not in a swimsuit, and hadn’t complained—because they voted them winners.
The sunshine glinted off the cheesy trophy. She giggled. Roger had bet her she couldn’t keep the wristband on more than an hour once the game ended. She loved a good dare. Apparently he did also because he’d stayed with her, taking his off only for the short minutes during her shower.
“What’s funny?” Roger’s voice feathered over her shoulder.
She started to sit, up but the chain had lodged over her ribcage, forcing her to wriggle around to face him instead. “All of it. Us, slathered in vegetable oil. You covering me with your shirt to keep the guys from staring at my see-through blouse—”
“You make me sound noble.”
“You were.” She patted his chest with the chain still attached at the wrist. It was wedged so tightly between them it couldn’t jingle. The chain-link indentions on her stomach felt like they could be permanent. She glanced at her clock. Eleven a.m.
Roger ran his other hand over his eyes and squinted at the bright window. “Not really. I’d already done my share of looking; I just wasn’t letting the other guys have theirs. That polka dot bra was pretty unnerving.”
She glanced down at said bra laid out on the floor. “Glad you liked it.”
“Liked it?” he groaned. “I loved it—it makes me want to look through the rest of your underwear.”
Hmmm. That sounded interesting—and a little provocative. “I’ll bet. You want to wear them, too?”
He snickered. “Whatever makes you happy. I aim to please.”
Rearing her head back, Caroline met his melt-me eyes. “Do you now?” She hitched an inviting brow ... then panicked. This wasn’t like her; she didn’t normally jump into bed on the first real date with a guy.
Technically, they weren’t really in bed. She noted the softness of her pillow under their joined heads. Okay, they were in bed, but there hadn’t been any sex involved. Just a hell of a lot of heavy kissing. She tried to focus on his face, but his lips twitched and the dimples caved. He’d found her weak spot. She was a sucker for his boyish—or was it devilish?—smile.
“Wanna test me, Caroline? I’m game if you are.”
She patted his collarbone again in admonishment. “I’ll bet you are. Would that be with or without the chains? Do you trust me enough to let me go?”
“Your choice, gorgeous.”
That sounded like a line he’d used before. Probably many times. “So, um, it’s late—or early, depending on how you look at things. And according to my clock, I have to take pictures in an hour.”
Roger’s grin wavered. “I guess that means no.”
She nodded, partly because words were failing her and partly because she really needed to get away from him for a short while. He was too warm. Too solid and hard. Too—everything. Plus she really did have to go to work. She’d committed to taking senior pictures for a few students and needed to be on campus. She cleared her throat. “I know it’s a heartbreaker not to wear my underclothes, but duty calls.”
Roger sat up. The movement pulled the chain from her ribs. She should have felt free, less confined. Instead, a rush of cold remorse swept over her, and she shivered.
“How long will the job last?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A few hours maybe. I’m not sure.” Suddenly she wanted to ditch the job. If there were a way to contact the students and cancel, she probably would. But there wasn’t. “Um, you want to go with me?”
The dimples returned. “Sure, why not?” He stood and looked down at the girly shorts and knotted his eyebrow
s. “Maybe I should go home and change, though. Let’s meet afterward. Okay?”
Caroline couldn’t help but admire the way his hip bones tilted down into the shorts. “I dunno. I kind of like your outfit. Those shorts look so much better on you than they did on Faith. And I can assure you I never ever had the desire to do this with her.” She hooked a thumb in the waistband of the shorts and pulled him against her.
His breath gushed out as their chests bumped. She hesitated, hoping he’d bridge the rest of the gap and—
He kissed her.
Yeah, she’d meet him anywhere, anytime. He kissed like he was half-crazy and half-angel. Or maybe it had been way too long since she’d had a decent kiss and she was desperate. His kisses weren’t exactly decent—anything but—but they were still addictive. Whatever the reason, who cared?
She strung her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. His breath waved hotly over her swollen lips. “See you after, gorgeous,” he said. He pulled free and made to leave, but not before he yanked her terrycloth robe over the shorts. With shoulders straight, he strutted away as he knotted the tie around his hips. So cute. And so very funny.
“Back at you, Rog,” she said, and he was gone.
A moment later, Caroline’s cell rang. She glanced at the screen—it was her mother, Carol. She answered and was drowned in small talk. Fifteen minutes later, she ended the conversation and jumped in the shower.
Amazing how the oil still seemed to find places to hide. She soaped out her ears and armpits, then shampooed her hair for the fifth time. Once satisfied, she dressed, grabbed the camera, and headed for campus. A quick glance at her cell showed a text message from Roger with instructions to meet at the Wing Stop next to campus in a couple hours. She smiled and thumbed an affirmative response.
It was perfect weather for an outdoor photo shoot. Some people are naturally photogenic. Others require a lot of work. Her first two people were tough, not because they weren’t attractive. In all honesty, she rarely found anyone who couldn’t be attractive in a picture. No, these two seemed to have their minds made up on how the pictures should look. It took a lot of patience and convincing before they’d let her call the poses and backgrounds.
Need Me Page 3