Riding the Waves

by Tawny Weber

  Alex’s mind exploded with the image of the two of them, naked beneath a shower’s spray, sliding their soapy hands over each other’s bodies to wash away the salt and sand.

  His dick, already straining and impatient, jumped a little at the mental picture. His mind, already formulating an acceptance, thrilled at the invitation.

  But his mouth, dammit, was operating on its own.

  “Let’s do both,” he said before he could stop the words. His mind immediately scrambled to find a way to retract the words.

  Drucilla’s eyes went soft, something sweet and humbling flashing in their depths. It was that look that instantly put an end to any attempted retraction.

  Alex gave a soft laugh and rested his forehead against hers, briefly closing his eyes and sucking in a deep, fortifying breath. God, he was known for his mental acuity, his brilliance, some even said. And here he was turning his back on loose-and-wild sex in exchange for a more meaningful connection. Insane.

  “Let’s do dinner,” he suggested, reluctantly pulling away from her warmth. Instantly chilled now that his still-wet body was exposed to the air, he shivered a little as he pushed himself to his feet. Reaching down, he took her hand to help her up.

  The momentum of the move had the exact effect he’d hoped. She landed against him. Alex’s arms wrapped around her, his erection tight against her belly. He grinned down into her inquiring face.

  “We’ll save the dancing for private.”

  4

  DRU WATCHED HERSELF in the mirror as she tied the satin strings of her halter behind her neck. The teal-and-amethyst-patterned fabric made her skin glow. Or maybe that was the sun she’d gotten that afternoon. The smooth material cupped her breasts, making it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  She stepped back to get a full-length view, turning this way and that to see if her panty line showed. Barely. That was good, wasn’t it? She knew the underwear rules at home. Wear it. Simple enough. But vacation-underwear rules? And what about the wanting-to-have-sex-tonight rule modification?

  She expected the lack of a bra would clearly indicate her interest in sex. But she wasn’t quite brave enough to go commando, so she hoped her barely there panty line wouldn’t be a turnoff.

  This, she realized, was why she sucked at the flirtation thing. She obsessed over trivial details. She didn’t know the rules, the right way to play the game. She smoothed her hand over her hip and gave a ragged sigh. What she wouldn’t give to discuss interstellar gases and dust clouds at this point.

  It wasn’t until she went to twist her hair into a knot that she noticed her hands were shaking. Dru looked at her reflection, noting the dilated eyes beneath her smoky shadow, the bare lower lip where she’d already chewed off her lipstick and the rapid pulse fluttering at her throat.

  She dropped her hands, letting her hair fall like a pale curtain over her shoulders. She’d leave it down. The better to hide behind, she hoped.

  She glanced at the clock: 5:55. Alex would be here in five minutes. Resorting to her test-anxiety cure, she picked up her brush and started running it through her hair. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of the bristles, on her breath moving gently in and out. She let her mind empty. Drew in relaxation and a sense of peace.

  The tension seeped out of her shoulders. The butterflies in her stomach landed. Ahhh, there it was. That sweet sense of tranquillity. Perfect.

  There was a knock at the door. Dru gave a loud gasp. The brush flew out of her hands, ricocheted off the mirror and slid across the bureau with a loud bang.

  Apparently she couldn’t have both inner peace and a wild vacation fling. She sucked in a shaky breath before quickly slicking color back over her lower lip with a quivering hand. With a smacking motion, she blew her reflection a kiss for luck and headed for the door.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach. Then, with a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and pulled open the door.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

  “Hi back.”

  Oh, baby. Alex was gorgeous. So far she’d only seen his hair in wet curls or casual waves falling around his face. Tonight it was swept back in a way that accented his cheekbones and emphasized his melt-her-insides midnight-dark eyes.

  His white shirt was open at the collar and buttoned at the cuffs, paired with black slacks and dress shoes. Typical date attire, evening casual. The look should have been staid, maybe a little cookie-cutter.

  Maybe it was the intense, edgy lust clawing at her belly that had her wondering how the crisp white cotton would feel under her hands if she stroked his chest. How the zipper would feel as she tugged it down. If his clothes carried the same delicious scent she’d smelled on his skin when they’d kissed that afternoon.

  Whether he wore boxers or briefs.

  Her anxiety melted away in the heat of pure lust.

  “Wow,” he said, his tone husky as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame and gave her a slow, seductive smile. The kind of smile that promised that he could deliver on her every fantasy. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Come in,” she invited, her mind racing with possibilities. Her brain was disengaged, all her earlier concerns over common ground disintegrated. Who needed similar interests to talk about? All she could think about now was sex. With Alex. To have that, she just needed a simple plan. Entice him, entertain him, engage him.

  In other words, get him naked as quickly as possible.

  He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. As he did, he handed her a single bloom. Brilliant red, it was huge and fragrant. And so, so sweet.

  “Thank you,” she murmured softly.

  Dru took the lily, her hands brushing Alex’s as her eyes met his. Her heart stuttered. No guy had ever brought her flowers. Once in a while one would bring her a science journal, but only if they had an article featured in it.

  “I love flowers,” she blurted out as she held the fragrant blossom to her nose with a smile. “My mom does a lot of container gardening, but she’s always grown herbs and vegetables, never flowers.”

  Alex followed her to the small living room and, at her gesture, sat on the cushioned rattan settee while Dru found a glass at the wet bar and filled it with water for the flower.

  “Wine?” she asked, lifting the bottle she’d put on ice. Just in case.

  “Sure.”

  She pulled the cork and poured them both a glass, and was proud to see her hand was steady.

  “Does your mom live in an apartment?” he asked with a friendly smile.

  Dru almost dropped her wine. Olympia Robichoux, in an apartment? With all those other people around, sharing walls and noise? Hardly. Olympia had always insisted on a house, no matter what their financial situation. A house was more regal, she said. That they were easier to sneak out of went without saying. Shrugging off the tension that thoughts of her mother always induced, Dru handed Alex his wine before taking a fortifying sip of her own.

  “No. My parents just moved a lot,” she told him as she settled next to him on the settee. It sounded better than sharing her family’s eviction records. As always, she stuffed the childhood anger, resentment and dregs of loneliness away in a tidy little box in her mind labeled “off-limits.” “My mother kept everything she needed portable. But my dad wanted his fresh tomatoes, so he had to lug those huge clay pots with them from house to house.”

  “Is he still lugging them?”

  “My dad’s gone,” she said with a smile to acknowledge the sympathetic way he rubbed her knee. “Mom bought a house three years ago, so her gypsy days are over.”

  Well, technically, she’d helped her mom buy the house. It’d been crazy, given that she’d just bought her own condo. But her mom had needed a home. One she could actually settle in and trust would never be torn out from under her. The choice had been to buy one or move Olympia into the condo.

  That decision had been a no-brainer.

  And she didn’t expect gratitude. She really didn’t. But someday
, dammit, her mom would actually plant something in the ground instead of those clay pots.

  “Gypsy days, huh?” Said in that deep, sexy tone, Alex made the idea sound intriguing. Almost sexy and adventurous instead of pathetic and lonely. “That sounds like an interesting childhood.”

  “It does sound that way, hmm.”

  He gave her a long look. The kind that said he could see through her skin and into her heart. “And what about you? What was your preference?”

  His tone, soft with just a hint of concern, told her she’d given too much away. This was supposed to be a sexy adventure, not some quick trip through her battered psyche. So she just smiled and forced her shoulders to relax.

  “I have to admit, I’m partial to fresh tomatoes, too.”

  “Ah, a daddy’s girl?”

  A familiar pain stabbed through her, making Dru wince. Daddy’s girl. She’d heard that phrase so often growing up. From her father, it was in a tone of pride that his little girl was so good at the science he loved and could make a career of which he’d only dreamed. From her mother, it was usually preceded by, “Did you have to be just like him?”

  No. She wasn’t letting it be an issue. Not here. Not now. Instead, Dru shook her head and sipped her wine before saying, “I’m hardly a girl.”

  “No,” he conceded, lifting his hand. Dru held her breath as he reached for her. Her heart raced as she wondered where he’d touch her. It settled into a fast gallop as he rubbed the ends of her hair between his fingers. The back of his hand was inches away from her breast, the warmth of him heating her nipple into an aware kind of craving. She wanted to breathe deeply, to push herself against his hand. At the same time, she wanted him to make the move. To want her enough to push past the first-date etiquette and get right to the hot sex.

  As if he read her mind, Alex grinned. That wicked, naughty tilt of his lips that said he knew every sexy thought in her head and planned to make each one a reality. In his own good time.

  Right now, he wanted to get to know her better.

  Still playing with her hair, he said, “You’re definitely all woman. The kind of woman who calls her own shots, who knows what she wants and goes for it. Like tomatoes.” He grinned and raised a brow as his fingers left her hair to trace a gentle design over her bare shoulder. “Do you grow your own tomatoes, too? Or does your mom keep you supplied?”

  “I’ve got a black thumb,” she admitted, barely focusing on the discussion. Most of her attention was on his finger and the ever-widening pattern he was searing into her sensitive flesh. “My mom gives me a basket each week when I stop by to take care of things for her. You know, some yard work, some errands, some chores around the house. I’ll have half a bushel waiting when I get home.”

  “Is your mom older?”

  “No,” she said with a shrug that brought his hand even closer to the edge of her bodice. Excitement spun tighter through her system, and her entire being was focused on that hand, her nipple, all the possibilities. “She’s in her fifties.”

  “Is she disabled?” he asked, his tone as distracted as her thoughts.

  His hand was now tracing the silky strap of her halter. Up her throat. Down her chest. Up along her shoulder. Down toward her breast. Dru breathed more shallowly, not wanting to do anything to impede his movements.

  “Hardly,” she murmured, barely tracking their conversation. “She’s healthy as a horse. She just sort of lives in her own little world and forgets things. You know, like paying bills, mowing the lawn, picking up the cleaning.”

  “So you do it for her?” The smile he gave her was like a spark that lit the fuse of passion in her belly. Deep, intense desire warmed and spread, causing a damp heat to pool between her legs.

  “Someone has to. I—” She stopped and frowned, realizing what he’d said. And what she’d admitted.

  How did he do that? Dru shifted just a little on the settee, trying to hide her discomfort. She didn’t like talking about her family. Hadn’t she changed the subject? Weren’t they supposed to be focused on sexy stuff instead?

  As if sensing her withdrawal, he dropped his hand to the seat between them and gave her an inquiring look.

  “How about you?” she countered desperately. “Is your family local?”

  She winced as soon as the words left her lips. Dumb question. Alex himself was obviously not local, even if he did work here.

  “We, well, my mom has an apartment in Cabo,” Alex said, surprising her. She scanned his face, seeing an amused sort of resignation in his dark eyes. “Like your parents, she’s into the gypsy lifestyle. One way or another, though, we always ended up here at least once a year. So she keeps a place in town, mostly for show. I think having a home base makes her feel a little more settled.”

  “Is that where you’re staying?” she asked, trying to be subtle about prying into his private life. Was a guy who lived at his mother’s—even if his mother was rarely there—considered a momma’s boy? It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. Alex is playmate material, he doesn’t need hang-on-to-for-life potential.

  “Nah, she sublet it to a couple from Montana for the month. I’m never sure when I’m going to be here, and she’s never sure where she wants to be, so it’s easier if I stay at the hotel.”

  Definitely not a momma’s boy.

  “Doesn’t that bother you?” Dru asked, knowing such a nebulous relationship would drive her crazy. As crazy as her frustratingly codependent relationship with her own mother? Was that possible? She wished she could ask him how he dealt with it. Whether he blamed himself.

  It was hard to think, though. He was so close. For the first time in her life, her brain wasn’t functioning.

  Who knew that could be so sexy?

  “Bother me? Nah,” he said absently. His eyes traced a path over her face, down her throat and across the swell of her breasts. Like a warm caress, she felt their touch deep in her belly.

  “So what do you do for a living?” he asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to safe ground.

  Well, there ya go, he’d found her one surefire passion douser. Dru stared wide-eyed at this sexy, gorgeous man looking at her as if she was a wet dream, and imagined telling him she had a Ph.D. in astrophysics.

  Oh, no, not going there, she promised herself. For this vacation, for this man, she was going to be just a woman. Not a scientist, not a shy geek and definitely not a sexual failure. This was all about the fantasy.

  “You know, it’s vacation time,” she said quietly, taking a chance and running her finger along his thigh. “I’d rather not talk work, do you mind?”

  He smiled slowly, then his gaze dropped to her bodice again. Her skin heated under his appraisal. He lifted his hand off the seat between them, rubbing the fabric of her skirt between his fingers in tactile appreciation.

  “Nobody’s ever looked at me like you do,” she blurted. As soon as the words escaped, Dru wanted to grab them back. Eyes huge, she pressed her lips together and winced, waiting for his reaction.

  Alex laughed. A deep, husky laugh that made her think of moonlit nights and silk sheets.

  “I like looking at you. You remind me of a fairy princess. Not the cartoon kind. The kind with ancient magic. A very sexy, very intriguing magical fairy princess,” he said, that seductive smile of his still playing over his lips.

  Dru couldn’t tell what heated faster, her heart or her body. Suddenly everything was a molten puddle of gooey lust. Who knew a man could seduce her with the simplest touch, the sweetest words?

  Unable to stop herself, barely hearing the warning in her head to let him make the first move, Dru leaned forward. Desire flamed in his dark eyes, the sparks warning her she was so far out of her element that she might not find her way back.

  But she couldn’t stop. As if in slow motion, she rubbed her lips over his. Soft. Oh, so soft.

  She started to pull back, but his gaze held hers captive.

  She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Her heart, poundi
ng louder than the sea itself, lodged in her throat.

  Then he shifted. The tiniest fraction was all it took for him to seize control. Sure he could do a better job than her, she gladly let him take charge.

  Smooth and tender, his lips danced over hers. Sliding in a sweet caress, the kiss was straight out of one of those fairy tales he’d spoken of. Oh, yeah, he was so much better at this than she was. Reveling in the sensations flashing through her system like a meteor shower, Dru hummed low in her throat.

  He growled in return, shifting again. The kiss went from sweetly seductive to intensely erotic. One hand slid from her shoulders to her waist, gripping her tighter. The other plunged through the heavy curtain of her hair to curve over the back of her neck and pull her closer.

  His tongue slipped, hot and wet, over the seam of her lips. He didn’t ask for entry, he demanded it. Dru’s mind spun out of orbit as he claimed her. As the shimmering heat poured through her veins, she swore she felt her brain cells actually explode in lust.

  His kiss was an erotic invitation, tongue and lips seducing her. Her pulse raced and her stomach zinged. When he scraped his teeth over her sensitive lower lip, a shudder went through her, and her nipples contracted to tight, hard buds. She wished he’d touch her, stroke the aching flesh.

  Dru leaned closer in unspoken invitation.

  Alex slowly pulled his lips from hers. She would have moaned in protest, but she’d lost her voice.

  He took a deep breath, his face as calm as ever.

  Disappointment crashed over her, slapping at her confidence, mocking her desire. She was so easily set aside without her brainy persona. Albert Einstein’s face flashed through her mind, taunting that even her brainy self was easily set aside. The feminine assurance that’d urged her to pursue Alex, always a shaky thing for her, crashed.

  So much for having herself a fling.

  If the man could kiss her into a wet, crazy puddle of passionate longing, then set her aside with a calm smile, she was obviously out of her league. She’d be better off with the gasper. Or even the wheezer.