“Yes. And for the record, I wanted you to. But—”
“You told me to stop,” she finished, hearing his voice in her memory pleading, laced with agony.
He was looking down at her. “No way would I let you do that in your state.”
It was disturbing to think that she’d been so wanton. And comforting to know she’d been so safe.
“You’re a nice guy, Sax.” But he would not stop her now, she bet.
“I have my moments.” He ruffled her hair. “And you’re a nice gal.”
She chuckled at his playful echo of their first exchange. She had instinctively been drawn to him, despite his overworked-financial-guy exterior. “But maybe I don’t want to be nice anymore.”
She rose to her full height and kissed him. He took her mouth, his hands sliding up to her face. Her tongue sought his, sucking on him the way she wanted to do to other parts of his body. Their tongues moved together hungrily, and his hand came up to brace her cheek. Mm, so nice. I could do this all day. Except they had painting to do, so she finished the kiss, reached over to dip her fingers into the green paint, and circled his nipples. She tweaked the nubs and heard him catch his breath.
Oh, yeah, he was liking the painting. She grabbed a pot of dark blue paint and crouched down to the level of his pelvis. After covering her fingers with paint, she drew lines from his knees up his hard thighs and under the legs of his trunks. She felt his body stiffen as her hands slid up to the smooth, soft skin of his pelvis. She let her thumbs trail close, closer, glancing up to see Sax with his head tilted back and eyes closed.
Yes, she wanted to touch his erection and not just tease him again. So she did, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and sliding them up and down. He was big and incredibly hard. Because his shorts were loose, she could maneuver quite well. Her thumb traveled around his head, gliding over the velvety surface. He was gripping her hair, his breath escaping in low huffs.
The thought of him inside her stirred her down to her toes. Was she that wild, a woman who could have sex with a man she would probably never see again? She wasn’t sure, but she sure loved feeling the length of him and daydreaming about how he would feel driving into her. She had never daydreamed about Lane that way.
Which answered one question: She wasn’t drawn to Sax because he reminded her of Lane. The two men were polar opposites. But she sure wasn’t drawn to Sax because he was in her comfort zone. She had a feeling she was drawn to him because he wasn’t in her comfort zone. He challenged her to explore those hidden aspects of herself while giving her a safe way to do so. And that was perfection.
Before things went too far, she moved back down his thighs, to his muscular calves, all the way to the tops of his bare feet. As she came to her full height again, she rocked against him, feeling his desire like a steel rod against her stomach.
“Why, thank you for that,” he murmured.
“There’s more to come—pun intended—when we aren’t surrounded by a bunch of people,” she whispered next to his ear, then gently nibbled his lobe.
“Oh, darlin’, you say the sexiest things. I am enjoying your exploration of your wild side, no doubt about it.”
“You should; you helped bring it out.”
She painted his face, making his eyebrows blue wings, loving the feel of his cheekbones beneath her fingertips.
Their mouths found each other again, fueled by the delicious temptation and the sweet torture of not being able to indulge in what their bodies really wanted. She knew the song that was playing, an old Stone Temple Pilots tune: “Sex Type Thing.” She did want what was on his mind. And yes, it was eating her up inside. And while she really wanted to haul him back to one of their rooms, she needed to experience the wild lust of this body painting thing.
She forced herself to step back, then spun him so that his magnificent back was facing her. She painted it, swirling over the scars he’d earned fighting for freedom, drawing lines down the indent of his spine. She ran her hands over his biceps, loving the bulge of muscle, covering his tattoo until the frog’s eyes barely peeked through.
“There. You look like a masterpiece.” Then again, he did without the paint.
He turned around, a spark in his eyes. “Your turn.”
She raised her arms. “Paint me. Anywhere you want.”
He let out a soft groan, flicking his gaze beyond her to the other people in the area. Several women were being none too subtle about what they were doing, spreading their legs and pulling their bikini bottoms aside. “Not quite anywhere,” he murmured, dipping his fingers into the pots of paint. Her bathing suit bottom wasn’t roomy as his was, so he couldn’t be discreet like she had been. “You’re too classy for that. But we can get a good start.”
He trailed warrior stripes across her cheeks, his mouth only an inch from hers. His gaze followed the path he made down her neck, her collarbone. He scooped more paint onto his hands and drew a line between her breasts, beneath the bathing suit top clasp, then down to her stomach. The paint made his hands slide easily across her skin, warm and slippery.
She’d bought the bikini at a boutique here, feeling daring at the time. “I’m probably not as firm as those other women.”
“What other women?” He never stopped moving his hand over her, never took his eyes off his task.
“Just…women you hook up with.”
“What other women?” he asked again, guileless as he met her gaze.
Ohmigod, I want to keep this man. Either he was that good or he was sincere. Because he looked like he meant he could think of no one else but her. That he didn’t mind a slightly squishy tummy. She let the warmth of that wash over her. “Good.”
His hands smoothed paint down her waist to her hips, tugging the strings that held the bottom together. As though he would push it down, all the way to her feet, where she would step out of it, and then they’d…um, no, not make love right here.
He slid his fingers just beneath the top edge of her bottoms, then drew it slowly across. After getting more paint, he ran his hands along the edge of her bathing suit top, dipping down between her breasts, then sliding his fingers beneath the fabric at the bottom. His thumbs brushed the inner curve of her breasts, his fingers the outer edge. Teasingly close to nipples that burned for his touch. Had she ever ached—ached—for a man’s touch before? No, this felt foreign, way outside her comfort range.
A woman shrieked with laughter, making Jennessy aware of the, oh, fifty others in the area. Some people were awkward, having obviously just been paired together. Others were clearly very comfortable with each other, slathering paint on nearly every body part. As comfortable as Sax and she were, or more so.
“Wanton,” she uttered, watching one man slide his paint-slathered hands beneath his girl’s bathing suit top. And crazy sexy. Jennessy wasn’t going to go the embarrassed route this time. She watched as the man pulled his partner’s bathing suit strings at her neck, freeing her top. She arched into him, her large breasts bare and free to his roaming hands. As his fingers slathered paint over the creamy skin, heat pooled low in Jennessy’s belly.
Sax’s hands came up from behind her, sliding over her rib cage. He nuzzled her ear. “Like that, hmm?”
He’d caught her watching, and probably saw that it turned her on. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed about that either. She reached back and untied the knot at the base of her neck. The top slid down, falling completely when he untied the knot at her back. He was looking into her eyes as he covered her breasts with his big hands, squeezing. The fresh round of paint was cool, his hands warm, and his fingers magical as they traced her nipples in maddening circles that only made her want more, more, more. It was as though he were touching her between her legs, every swirl of slippery paint making her clit throb.
“You are absolutely beautiful,” he whispered, awe in both his voice and his eyes.
“It’s the colors,” she said. “You picked the best ones for my complexion.”
“Darlin�
He always knew just what to say, and some sane and cynical part of her warned that he was probably an adept player. He said he loved women. But the rest of her didn’t care, because this was only about now, about the next few days, and finding out what she wanted. And right now, she wanted Sax.
While one hand circled her nipple, the other slid down her stomach all the way beneath her bikini bottom. He cupped her, letting his finger draw down her crease to touch her clit. She drew in a breath, her fingers curling over his biceps. The couple who’d been doing more than making out in the water came to mind, along with the naughty way watching them had made her feel. The good Catholic girl part of her wasn’t exactly sure she could make love with a man she had no plans to see beyond the weekend. The womanly part of her wasn’t sure she could keep from getting emotionally attached if they went that far. But she was definitely up for other types of sexual gratification. Could she partake in that gratification in the ocean with others in the vicinity?
Maybe.
She glanced down at their painted bodies. “Let’s wash this stuff off and go to the beach.”
He arched a blue eyebrow. “Anything you want.”
My, she loved those words.
They found the pool showers and rinsed. She watched the colors wash away from his body, revealing golden skin. She liked the wild side of her who’d painted all over him. Who had stretched her boundaries.
Once they’d dried off, he led the way. Her feet sank into the warm sand as they wound through a maze of chairs and towels toward the main beach. She took in the cerulean water, spiked with sailboat masts just offshore from the resort’s marina. Then she saw the massive crowds of people in the water. Maybe she wasn’t ready to partake publicly, because her stomach sank at the thought of it.
Or maybe she wasn’t ready to get that wild in general. The good Catholic girl was whispering all kinds of warnings and decrees in her mind. She’d justified partaking of the pleasures of the flesh with Lane because she’d been intent on marrying him. She had no such justification where Sax was concerned.
And, bless his heart, as her Knoxville friend would say, Sax was letting her make those decisions.
She wandered closer to where people were scooting around on Sea-Doos in the near distance, sending up waves of water. A woman screamed as a wave doused her. Then she barreled toward the offender and wrought revenge.
“Looks like fun, huh?” Sax asked.
“Yes, it does. I’ve never ridden one before.”
“Me either.” He gave her an expectant look.
“Let’s do it,” she said, pulling him down the beach toward the activities hut.
Fifteen minutes later, they’d signed away their lives, been given instruction, and were buckled up in small life vests.
Sax frowned as he clicked it into place. “I can swim just fine.”
The instructor shrugged. “Sorry, rules and regs.”
Sax nodded. “Where’s the Point? I heard one of the employees talking about it like it was some private place…if you know what I mean.”
The guy pointed. “It’s on the other side of the island, but you can’t go past the boundaries of the red buoys on the Doos.”
“What about by land?”
“It’s in a restricted area. Some of the employees were partying and leaving it trashed, so now it’s off-limits.” He frowned. “Which is a bummer ’cause I heard it was an excellent spot to watch the submarine races. But there’s no beach or anything. Just a cliff and rocks.” He patted her Sea-Doo. “Be back in an hour. Have fun.”
Sax helped her onto the craft, which was tied to a buoy just off the beach. Darn thing tilted all over the place, and all of her poise went right to hell as she wobbled and flailed her arms to regain her balance. His hands came up to her calves to steady her. Not the most embarrassing moment between them certainly, but up there.
To make her feel even more ungainly, he easily climbed onto his and donned a pair of sunglasses from his pocket. “I want to go up the shoreline and see if I can spot this Point.” His mouth quirked up in challenge. “Are we going nice and slow or wild and fast?”
Taking in the people who were tooling around splashing each other, she checked in with what she wanted. She met his challenge smile with one of her own. “Wild and fast.”
“Music to my ears.” He shot away, thankfully not dousing her.
So he wanted to play, huh? She pressed the lever and nearly flew off the back as the watercraft lurched forward. He checked on her, and she gently gave it gas and headed in his direction. She needed to ease into this fast-and-wild business. And Sax was wild, no doubt about it. Even painted brown, his hair shimmered in the sun as he navigated the swells, riding one up until he flew several feet above the crest. He landed in the trough and rode the next one up. The hell he hadn’t been on one of these before.
Then again, he was a SEAL. She didn’t know a lot about them, but she knew they undertook the big, dangerous missions like taking down Osama bin Laden. And water was their element of choice.
Her heart plunged as her Sea-Doo took a wave and sent her airborne. She let out a scream when she landed, gripping the handlebars so hard that her fingers ached. Saxby gave her a thumbs-up, which she realized was more of a question than a gesture. She returned it, determined not to be intimidated by waves. But she sure wasn’t going to play cowboy like he was.
As though he’d read her mind, he let out a whoop as he hit another wave and shot up into the air. He looked magnificent, in total control of the machine. Then he circled back and zipped around her. “You okay?”
“Fine. Perfectly fine.”
“Then let’s boogie. We have only an hour, after all.” He sped away again, and she gunned the gas to keep up with him.
Though she’d tied her hair in a ponytail, wisps flew around her face as the wind beat her. She grew braver, increasing the gas as she rode another wave instead of powering it down. This Jennessy bloomed like a flower inside her chest. Heady. Delicious. Free. And a little bit wild.
They passed the outer buoy and continued parallel to the Wild beach. A patch of trees divided that pristine beach with a smaller one that she guessed was where the employees hung out. After that she saw nothing but trees and an ever-increasing rocky shore. Sax seemed to be studying the coastline as he went. He kept checking to make sure she was still with him, but between the wind and the engines, conversation was impossible. Around the bend, the shoreline rose higher and higher. Finally he came around what looked like a point and slowed to an idle a short distance from a small cove where the water was calmer.
He pointed to a line of choppy waves. “Watch the reef over there.”
She came up beside him, accidentally playing bumper cars as her craft hit his. “Doesn’t it bother you to break the rules? I thought military guys were pretty rigid.”
He cut his engine and studied the shoreline. “Not SEALs. We didn’t have to abide by the same rules. We’d come into a base with beards and shaggy hair and civvie clothing ’cause we were working a package and trying to blend in.” He shot her a smile. “Which, of course, drove the other branches freakin’ nuts.” His expression went back to the soldier one. “This could be the place. The shoreline’s higher, so even if someone’s up there, they wouldn’t be able to see what was going on down here. A cove is great for an out-of-sight pickup. No sign of any buildings or people, just like the guy said.”
“And no beach to speak of, which makes it less likely that someone would be wandering around out here.”
The whole area was a network of craggy rocks that reminded her of light-colored lava. One spit of land barely qualified as a beach, nestled between all those rocks, with quite a climb down to reach it from land.
“Hang tight for a minute,” he said.
He stripped out of his life vest, slung it over his handlebar, and dove in. She could barely see him moving beneath the crystal-clear water, just a shadow gliding along for an entire minute before he broke the surface close to the shore. He walked out like Poseidon himself, water cascading down his body. His wet swim trunks were plastered to that tight, oh-so-fine derriere. Watching him scout the area made the adrenaline course through her body more than riding those waves had. His skin glistened as the sun hit the contours of his muscles, but it was his body language that was the most compelling. The way he moved, confident, capable…the OutKast song, “The Way You Move” playing in her mind was the perfect soundtrack. She did like the way he moved, how he checked on her as he assessed the landscape.
No, no, no, don’t fall in love with him. He said he’d never met a woman who made him want to try commitment.
But he didn’t know you yet.
He dove into the water, skimming the surface like a dolphin as he swam toward her. He had an elegant back, doing one of those efficient strokes that brought him to her Sea-Doo in seconds. Silly boy must be confused.
Using the edge of her watercraft, he hoisted himself up. And there was that godlike water-dripping-off-his-body thing again, and the glint of heat in his eyes, and then it hit her that he’d climbed onto her watercraft on purpose. That all that wet sexiness was inches away, within reach.
Hers for the taking.
She turned around on the seat to face him, leaning forward as though her body was straining toward him. He sat facing her and pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips. His mouth covered hers, his hands going around her back to hold her tight. He kissed her as though he’d been starving, and her mouth was his sustenance. And damn, didn’t she kiss him the same way?
She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, threading her fingers into his wet hair. When he came up for air, she gave him an impish smile. “You didn’t ask if I wanted a kiss. I thought I was driving the bus.”
“I know you want a kiss, darlin’. And I know you want more than that.” He kissed her again. “Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to touch you with my hands?” He skimmed his hand down her stomach and dipped beneath her bikini bottom, brushing the sensitive nub that screamed for more. “Or would you like me to touch you with my mouth?”
-->