Instant Gratification (Wilder #2)(40)

He lifted his gaze to hers. At the look on her face, he backed up, further into the water.

“Get over here and take your medicine like a man.” She stood at the edge and let the water lap at her feet. Oh, God, it was so cold. She kicked it and splashed him, but it wasn’t enough.

So she dove in. Not nearly as gracefully as he had, but she hadn’t been in the water much since high school, where she’d been on the swim team. It came right back to her, and as the gloriously cold water closed over her head, she pushed down, swimming underwater up to a pair of long, masculine, still scraped up legs. Her plan was to swim past him, out as far as she could get, hopefully ridding herself of as much of her restless energy as possible, and only when she could be sure to keep in control, would she turn back.

She got maybe a stroke past him when she felt a big, warm hand close around her ankle. She kicked, but he was far stronger than she, and pulled her back against him.

She fought, but he merely wrapped two long, hard arms around her and lifted her to the surface for air.

The air was shimmering hot, the water icy cold, his body a perfect mix of hard sinew and warm skin. A paradox, because her instincts were at odds.

Fight him.

Hold onto him.

Kiss him.

Splash him.

God. She wanted to do all of it, and all that heated, strong, sleek flesh was pressed up against hers. In fact, staring into his stark green eyes, eyes that didn’t attempt to hide a thing from her, she was having a hard time remembering that she was supposed to be fighting him at all, or why she even wanted to.

Then he smiled; a soft, sweet, sexy smile, and she was lost. She smiled back, and let her fingers play in his hair. Just for a minute, she told herself. Then he dipped his head close to hers, kissing her cheek, letting his mouth skim the edge of her jaw, and she sighed in pleasure, closing her eyes, melting into him, all resistance gone, and—

And he dunked her.

Dunked.

Her.

Sputtering and wriggling, she nearly got away but once again he caught her, slowly tugging her back like a fish on a line. As much as she tried to get away, she was held tight, her back to his chest, her butt to his crotch, which she only realized because the more she fought, the harder he got. “You should know,” she said through her teeth. “I’m pretty good at this.”

“Swimming?”

“Kicking ass.” But though she struggled and fought, she couldn’t get free. “Let me go!”

“Say the magic word.”

“Let me go or you’ll be walking funny tomorrow.”

With a low chuckle, he put his hand on the top of her head and pushed, dunking her again.

His mistake.

Because beneath the water, she whirled to face him, then sank even lower, where she grabbed his ankles and lifted, tumbling him backwards under the water. Without waiting to see how he took that, she whipped around and started swimming away, laughing in sheer triumph. She got two strokes this time before she was once again dragged back against his hard, wet body.

He turned her to face him, but she wasn’t falling for those sweet, sexy eyes again. Oh, no. She learned from her mistakes, and she twisted free, sinking back down and around him. Opening her eyes, she placed her hands on the backs of his knees and pushed.

When his legs obligingly collapsed, she laughed beneath the water and nearly drowned herself. She managed to swim away, and she kept at it, going as hard and fast as she could while laughing out loud.

He caught her, disturbingly easily, so easily in fact that she had to wonder if she’d meant him to. Hands on her waist, he yanked her under with him. They wrestled beneath the surface, and though she had little wrestling experience and he apparently had plenty, she did have one advantage. When he pulled her up against him and held her in so that her arms were completely ineffective, she brought her knee slowly up between his, stopping just short of her mark.

He went instantly still. His eyes met hers.

She arched a brow.

“Uncle,” he cracked, and loosened his arms enough that she could drop down through.

But she hadn’t thought it all the way through, because she felt every inch of his chest and belly and thighs, every single hard, perfect inch, and here she was, free to swim away, and she didn’t want to.

“You think you’re all that,” he said, his mouth to hers, his voice low and husky and full of laughter as he completely supported her.

“I am all that.”

He laughed again, and looked into her eyes.

And she had one thought. Send a life vest, I’m going down. The last of the sun beat down on them as the water lapped at their entangled bodies. His arms were hard around her, her breasts mashed up against his bare chest, her belly plastered to his.

He was still hard, and she could feel him, pressing up against the soft core of her. She looked into his face. The cut over his eye was still healing, but that wasn’t what made her breathless. Her legs bumped into his, and she actually physically had to fight the urge to wrap them around his waist, further opening herself to him.

As if he could read her thoughts, his smiled faded. His eyes flamed.

She flamed too, from the inside out, and when he leaned in close she had to bite back a moan.

“You feel…amazing,” he whispered huskily, and without her permission, her hands glided up his sleek, strong back, over those amazingly reassuringly wide shoulders, to sink into his wet hair. “Same goes,” she whispered back.