The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(22)

Focusing on him was a lot more enjoyable than thinking of Richard, she decided. But not really more relaxing.

*

As Spike kicked out from the wall and resurfaced, he figured he’d done about a half mile already. But he still had plenty of energy to burn off.

That ride with Mad had been an exercise in torture. Her hands around his waist, her torso curved against his spine, her body close as their clothes would allow. He could have cheerfully taken them to South Dakota and back and still not have wanted to get off the bike.

That woman was like nothing he’d ever been near before. Capable of lighting him up like a football stadium just because she came into a room. And man, did he have to fight not to let the reaction show.

Spike got to the shallow end of the pool and stopped. Planting his feet on the bottom, he pushed his torso out of the water, flipped his hair back and breathed hard.

“Hi.”

He pivoted to the left. Mad was standing on the terrace in a sports bikini, nothing but skin and curves and strength.

And wouldn’t you know it, his body responded. In a rush.

Thank God the underwater lights weren’t on.

“Hi.” He lifted his arm up in greeting.

She sat down on the pool’s edge, dangling her long, beautiful legs in the warm, splashing depths. “You’re a good swimmer.”

“I like the water.” More now that there was some of her in it.

“Me, too.” She watched her feet as she moved them up and down.

“Something wrong? You look tense.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She glanced up and smiled. “Well, nothing a good workout won’t cure.”

In the blink of an eye, she was up and diving into the pool, a clean slice of female flesh cutting through the water.

Not surprisingly, she was a fantastic swimmer. She set off at a bruising pace, churning through the water, her body perfectly synchronized. He resumed his own strokes, matching his rhythm to hers until they were doing the laps together. She didn’t let up on the speed and they went hard for a good half hour, doing a mile or maybe two. Eventually, he had to bite at the water with his arms to keep up with her and then she pulled ahead: the weights he lifted all the time were good for building muscle, but she maxed him out cardiovascularly.

Finally, she stopped at the deep end, and hung on to the edge of the pool. Half a minute later, he pulled in next to her and tried to catch his breath.

“That was a good haul,” she said, smiling.

As she draped both her arms up on the smooth concrete lip, she leisurely kicked her legs to cool down.

Meanwhile, he did his best not to notice all the droplets of water that clung to her skin. Or the way her nipples had tightened against the chill.

“I like swimming with a buddy,” she said.

Spike shoved his hair out of his face. A buddy. That’s right. Buddy, as in friend. As in no looking. And no kissing or touching…no licking…

“So do I.” But he couldn’t manage to smile back at her.

Oh man…all he could think about was reaching through the water for her. Dragging her against his body. Sliding his thigh between her legs. Pushing his hips forward until—

Mad playfully nudged his shoulder with her foot. “Now you’re the one looking all tense. Usually workouts bring people down.”

“Sorry.”—their lower bodies fused. Then he would wrap his arms all the way around her and—

“Hey, would you like to watch a movie?”

“Ah…yeah.”—kiss her deep and hard she—

“We have a screening room. And no one else will be up. I’m the insomniac in the family. Well, Richard, too, but he doesn’t really like movies, either…”

Stop it, Moriarty, he told himself. Just stop the fantasizing routine or you’re never going to get out of this water.

“So is it a plan?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Mad pushed off the side of the pool and went over to the ladder. Her shoulders flexed as she pulled herself out, the water sluicing down her body. As she turned to face him again, she gathered her hair up and squeezed the wetness out of it.

Crystal tears clung to her skin, sparkling in the low light.

Her smile was off-the-charts lovely. “You, Spike, look like an action-flick kind of guy. How about a Die Hard marathon?”

Spike just blinked. Clearly, she’d switched over to a foreign language because he was no longer tracking a word she was saying.

She swung her hair onto her back and bent over for her towel. “My favorite character in the first one was Argyle.” As she wrapped up, she frowned. “Spike? You feeling okay?”

Oh, he was feeling just fine. Uh-huh.

For a guy whose head was about to explode.

And damn it, she wasn’t even aware of him, was she? She had no idea what she was doing to him as she moved in the warm night air.

“Spike?”

“Tell you what, you go on ahead. I’m going to finish up here.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be tired. You started before I came.”

“Later, Mad. I’ll be up later.”

She dropped her eyes. As she fell silent, the hum of the pool filter seemed to get louder. “Ah, hell…I did it again, didn’t I.”

“Did what?” he asked.