Make Me Desperate

by BETH KERY

  “Jac . . . Jacob, don’t,” she squealed, snorting with laughter as they jiggled around in the water.

  “Keep paddling. It’s okay. Trust me,” he murmured from just behind her.

  And indeed, his exquisite balance and strength had steadied them again within seconds. He’d drawn her against him. She felt his thighs pressing against her buttocks and his full groin resting at the small of her back. His hands tightened on her hips, bringing her even closer against him. She paddled, her heart fluttering. She leaned back cautiously, a feeling of wonder going through her at the exquisite sensation of his solid, warm body behind her. For a few amazing seconds, they glided across the serene blue water, their bodies joined. But more than just their bodies, it seemed to her. It was like an ephemeral thread joined them. Every movement she made with the paddle was somehow counterbalanced by him, so that they glided in a still, subtle dance of invisible give-and-take.

  She guided them around the still little cove for several minutes. She’d never been more mentally or sexually attuned to another human being as she was with Jacob in those sweet, sun-drenched moments. His hands moved on her skin as they skimmed over the surface of the crystal clear water. He caressed her hips and belly until her goose bumps disappeared and her skin smoothed beneath his fingertips. His big, sun-warmed hands radiated heat, chasing away her chill. She was intensely focused on the sensation of his cock growing heavier and longer where it pressed at the top of her ass cheeks and lower back. He brought her back against him tighter, sandwiching his erection even more snugly between them. She was so distracted by the sensation, she made the board wobble.

  “Shhh,” he soothed very quietly, as though he were speaking to both her and the board itself. They smoothed in the serene water. A powerful longing rose up in her. She threw the paddle in the water.

  “Hey, what the—”

  “Trust me,” she interrupted. Using his solid weight to brace her from behind, she slowly, very cautiously shifted her feet on the board. She turned around in his arms. The board vibrated alarmingly beneath them, but soon she faced him as he held her elbows and forearms. She gave him a wide grin. He returned it. He urged her with his hands, and soon her front was pressed tight against his. She hugged him around the waist. She felt a tremor go through him when she crushed her breasts against his ribs. His skin rough against hers.

  “That was risky,” he said, his gaze stuck on the tops of her damp breasts. “But well worth it.”

  “What’s life without a little risk sometimes?” she murmured, her chin tilted up toward him. His arousal was obvious. Wonderful. Their smiles lingered on their lips as they both bobbed and balanced at the top of the water and their bodies pressed tight. The flutters in her stomach amplified when he slowly began to dip his head to kiss her.

  Her heart jumped.

  She heaved mightily toward the right. He gave a yell of surprise and they both crashed into the lake. When Harper surfaced, she was already grinning widely. Then she saw his expression as he surfaced. She immediately dove for the shore, snorting with laughter. He caught her ankle ten feet from shore in shallow water and jerked her backward. He hauled her against him, his sliding, poking fingertips on her ribs making her laugh even more hysterically.

  “You should have seen the look on your face,” she panted between jags of laughter as they stood.

  “I told you I don’t like it when I go in without meaning to,” he said with fake sternness, his smile breaking free as she squirmed and tried to get away from his tickling fingers.

  “Apparently not even—oh, stop it—Jacob Latimer can control everything.”

  He lifted her entire body suddenly against him and captured her mouth with his. His tongue pierced her. His mouth was hot. At first taste of him, she stopped her struggling, craning toward him, sliding her arms around his neck. Within seconds, she was melting against him.

  When he broke their kiss a minute later and slowly lowered her back to her feet, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His kiss had said it all. He controlled a lot of things all too easily, her response to him being one of them.

  The paddles and boards had washed to shore. They retrieved them and stacked the boards on the rack without speaking. Harper wondered if he was as attuned to her as she was to him at that moment. She thought he was, but one thing was for certain. He was aroused. His erection didn’t dissipate after they’d left the water. The clingy material of his swim trunks made that fact excitingly obvious.

  He took her hand and they started up the first flight of terrace stairs. Harper’s assumption was that he’d lead her to his bedroom, which was fine by her. More than fine. Something about their fragile togetherness, and then their playfulness out there on the calm, blue water had moved her. Aroused her. She experienced a strange feeling of exhilaration, a swelling happiness that she’d been given the opportunity to be with such an attractive, exciting man.

  Nothing and no one could stand in the way of them being together, if it’s what the two of them chose. Why did that fact feel so liberating and precious?

  She was surprised when instead of taking the next flight of steps, he led her over to one of the many circular, partially covered couch enclosures that faced the lake. He lifted the hand that held hers, urging her to enter the snug little haven of cushions. Harper crawled into the shadowed divan, turning so that she was propped up on some colorful pillows. The cupped couch offered her shade on her upper body, but her legs remained in the warm sun. Jacob crawled swiftly in after her. She smiled up at him when he relaxed next to her on the pillows, his arm going around her. She shivered as she cuddled up closer to his warmth. The view of the sun-drenched lake was stunning.

  “This is nice,” she murmured, turning her face into his chest. She loved the feeling of his crinkly hair and his smooth, wet skin. He smelled good, like clean water and lingering spice. She pressed a kiss against a solid pectoral. His hand cupped the back of her head. Her lips moved, charting his chest, seeking new, delightful sensations. His hand ran down her shoulder and arm, and she shivered.

  “Here,” he murmured. She lifted her head when he shifted slightly. He reached for an afghan that had been folded in the enclosure. He opened it and drew it around her shoulders.

  “Only I’d get cold when it’s seventy-five degrees out,” she muttered when he relaxed back on the pillows and put his arm around her.

  “The water is cold and there’s a breeze.” His hand went between the opening of the afghan and slid to her back. She felt him pull on the tie of the bikini top. A moment later, he lifted the piece of fabric over her head and tossed it to the far side of the cushioned enclosure. His hand snaked again beneath the blanket.

  “Jacob, no,” she murmured when he calmly started to remove the bikini briefs.

  His brows went up. “Why?”

  “I’m not going to lie here naked. It’s broad daylight. Your staff will see me.”

  He glanced behind them in the direction of the house. The wicker back of the circular couch enclosed them. It was the shape of a cupped hand that had been tilted back slightly. The edge of the back came down several inches above their heads. “No one can see from that direction,” he reasoned.

  “What about the view from the lake from a boat?”

  He looked vaguely exasperated. “Fine. But I’m still going to do what I set out to do.”

  “What’d you set out to do?” she asked, watching him in amazement as he slid his long body further down the cushion, lowering his head to her chest.

  “Warm you up a little,” he said, before he nuzzled the bare skin at the opening of the blanket. She watched him as he ran his nose and lips over the skin between her breasts. He twisted his head, his mouth trailing across a pale globe. She tingled beneath his warm lips.

  “That was your intent in bringing me here?” she asked amusedly.

  He glanced up at her briefly, his eyes smold
ering. “Actually, my primary intent was to accept the invitation of these”—he glanced down at her breasts—“after all that flaunting you were doing out there.”

  She gave a bark of laughter and slapped his damp back playfully. “I wasn’t flaunting anything. It’s the only swimsuit that fit me. Is it my fault you made me crawl around on that damn board and make a fool of myself?”

  “This swimsuit doesn’t fit you,” he replied deadpan. “It’s a size too small, fortunately for me.” He dipped his head and ran the short, silky hair of his goatee across the pale globe of her breast. Her smile evaporated. Her nipple was still covered by the blanket, but it would fall away at the lightest touch. She licked her lower lip, watching him like a hawk.

  “You stopped shivering,” he said, still running his chin over her sensitive skin. “See, I wasn’t entirely selfish. I knew if I played with you for a while, you’d warm up. Just relax, Harper. Enjoy the view.” He lifted his hand and deliberately moved the blanket off her breast, exposing a pink nipple. He gave a small growl of appreciation, and then dipped his head, sucking her between his lips. Her skin was chilled.

  His mouth was hot.

  Harper stared blindly out onto the shimmering water as he laved her nipple with his tongue and drew on her with the sweetest precision. Her hand went instinctively to his head. She delved her fingers into his thick, damp hair and sighed in pleasure. After a moment, however, he lifted his head and spoke to her tersely.

  “Put your hands on the cushions behind your head.” He watched her take the position, his face shadowed and his eyelids heavy. She stared back at him, her arms stretched above her head, her hands close together, palms outward. For a few seconds, he remained motionless.

  Then he reached between his thighs and fisted his cock, giving it a firm tug. He grimaced and let go. A small snarl shaped his mouth before he leaned down, and sucked her nipple into his mouth again.

  She lay there for several minutes, awash in pleasure, while he sucked and fondled her. Her breasts grew flushed, the nipples hard and achy.

  He lifted his head, both of her breasts in his hands, and licked the valley between them. “Sweet. Sweat. Mission accomplished,” he said, a triumphant, sexy-as-hell smile curving his mouth.

  She shook her head at his cockiness, but she was smiling, too, unable to disguise the truth. He’d not only warmed her. He’d turned her into a hot, sticky mush of arousal.

  She glanced aside when he reached to the side of her. He grabbed the discarded bikini top and looped the top strings over her head.

  “Time to go,” he said, and she saw his playful smile had faded.

  “Where?” she asked, even though she knew the answer by reading the rigid tension in his face.

  “My bedroom terrace. You can keep enjoying the view from there. But this time, I’m going to have you while you’re doing it.”

  * * *

  The drapes had been partially drawn in his bedroom suite, making the air feel cool and pleasant against Harper’s flushed, tingling skin. Her feet slowed when they neared his big, luxurious bed, but he didn’t pause. He tugged on her hand, and she followed him to the circular bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. One of the doors to the terrace was open. An evening breeze was causing the white curtain to billow inward. They went through the door. The sweeping terrace led up to a waist-high, wrought-iron-constructed fence that blocked little of the fantastic view of the lake and the surrounding mountains. There were several comfortable seating areas and potted plants arranged on the balcony.

  Jacob turned toward her. He brushed back her damp hair and planted a kiss on her temple.

  “I’m going to restrain you,” he said, brushing his lips across her hairline and ear. She shivered in unfurling excitement. “Is that all right?”

  “Out here?” she asked shakily, lifting her chin and whisking her mouth across his jawline.

  “Yes.”

  “But . . . how is this an improvement on fooling around on the downstairs terrace?”

  “I told you that my personal quarters are completely private.”

  “But a boat from the lake . . .”

  He met her stare, and she saw he wore a hint of that smile that always undid her. “No one is going to see anything. No one but me,” he added pointedly. “When are you going to start trusting me?”

  “I trust you far too much as it is.”

  “Are you going to let me show you what I have in mind? You can always say no.”

  “Can I at least have a drink first?”

  A rough bark of laughter scraped his throat. She smiled at the unexpectedness of his flash of humor.

  “You’ve called me out. I’m a shit host. Wait here.”

  She walked over to the wrought iron fence while she waited, breathing in the fresh scent of the surrounding pines and trying to dampen her mounting anticipation. She blinked, startled, when he was suddenly standing next to her, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was as silent as a ghost. She took the champagne gratefully.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. His gaze dipped from her face to the champagne flute. “Drink up while you can.”

  Her brows went up at that. She watched him as he went back inside, admiring his broad shoulders and the shape of his ass in the swim trunks. Excitement bubbled up in her. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d bargained for with him? A thrilling sexual affair, a wholesale distraction from the gray grief that had swallowed up her life recently? She glanced around her, seeing a world of luxury, beauty, and brilliant, blinding color. Her breasts and sex ached pleasantly with the knowledge of the pleasure and challenge to come.

  He was delivering, in spades. The least she could do was try to return the favor. She swallowed half the contents of the flute, the clean, crisp taste and effervescence only amplifying her anxious arousal.

  She was glad for the rush conferred by the delicious champagne when he backed out of the door a moment later and turned, and she saw what he carried. It looked a little like a sitting massage chair, but there were more hinges and movable parts, and some of the cushions on it weren’t in typical places.

  Definitely in different places, Harper thought when she saw that the place where a person would prop their legs had been split so that their thighs could be kept open. There were other variations from a sitting massage chair. There were straps hanging from the leg portion and below the cushion where a person would rest their forearms and hands. Instead of the donut cushion where one usually placed their face during a massage, there was a narrow chin pad that curved upward, like a thin crescent.

  He set down the contraption in front of the fence ten feet away from her. He turned in her direction. Harper downed the rest of her champagne, set the flute on a nearby table, and walked toward him.

  “That looks like something from a torture chamber,” she said, attempting levity to hide her nerves.

  “It’s not. It’s meant for pleasure.”

  “Yours or mine?”

  “Ideally, both. But its intention is to give me complete control.”

  Her heart starting to thrum in her ears, she glanced warily at the black metal movable parts and cushions.

  “You don’t have to do it,” he said.

  “I know,” she replied.

  “I set it up here, because the design is thicker on the fence here,” he said, pointing to the wrought iron design of intertwining branches. “It’ll be enough to hide you, should anyone pass in a boat and happen to be staring, but it’s open enough that you’ll still be able to enjoy the view.”

  “Like I’ll be paying attention to the view,” she scoffed under her breath.

  She looked up when he stepped closer and his long finger brushed against the skin below her chin. His eyes shone, looking especially golden in the evening light. She stared up at him, spellbound.

  “It’ll excite me to have you in this chair. I think
it’ll excite you, too. But it’s your call.”

  She nodded, swallowing thickly. She turned toward the chair.

  “How . . . how do I get on it?”

  “First, let’s get this off you,” he murmured, and she felt his fingers slip beneath the ties of her bikini at her back. Remembering what he’d told her about always wanting to undress her, she stood without moving as he drew the bikini top off her. He knelt and pulled the snug briefs down over her ass and thighs. She paused in the process of stepping out of the bikini bottoms when she felt his hand spread just above her knee. He swept it up, over her outer thigh, hip, and the side of her ass in a warm, greedy caress.

  “You’re so pretty, Harper.”

  Her mouth fell open. He’d said something similar to her several times before. It wasn’t the compliment a sophisticated, worldly playboy gave a woman. She realized that for the first time. It was the kind of compliment that came from an awestruck boy.

  “What?” he asked, and he was towering over her again, a big, powerful figure, his outline blocking the setting sun. He’d noticed the look of wonder and puzzlement on her face.

  “We . . . we haven’t met before, have we? I mean . . . before Tahoe?” she asked.

  His eyelids narrowed.

  “Why? Do you think we have?”

  She blinked, and the moment of déjà vu faded. She laughed at her stupidity. What she’d told him the other night was true. If she’d ever met Jacob Latimer, she’d remember it. In spades.

  “No,” she admitted.

  How could she possibly imagine that Jacob Latimer was remotely similar to a boy? Why did his presence keep calling up that sweet, poignant sadness of her early teenage years . . . the regret? Was it the loss of her parents and memories of her childhood inspiring it?

  He stepped closer. “Harper, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered, shaking off the spell. She didn’t want to think about her losses. Not now. “I’m ready.”

  She saw him nod once, but thought a vague expression of suspicion or curiosity lingered on his face. He took one of her hands and guided her to the chair.