Baking Me Crazy (Donner Bakery, #1)(36)

If anything was plastered on my face that gave away what I was feeling or the way my body was drawn to hers, then she either didn't see it, or she was really good at pretending she didn't.

Joss grimaced when she looked over my shoulder and saw the stairs. "Whoops. Guess I should've been patient, huh?"

"And act completely against your character? What fun is that?"

She flicked my arm.

"Ouch."

"That did not hurt." Her eyes met mine briefly. "Around to the front, or do I get a piggyback ride up the stairs?"

"That's up to you," I told her.

My vote was easy to cast, but when it came to matters like this, I'd never, ever make the decision for her. Joss' ability to get around as normally as possible was a huge source of pride for her.

She shrugged. "Might as well stay in the back. Hard to say what's inside the house."

I kept pace alongside her while she pushed through the blessedly short grass. If it had been overgrown, getting through it would be an even bigger pain in the ass than it was for her.

Our bag of towels was hooked over one of my shoulders, and I dropped it at the bottom of the white stairs.

Joss snapped her fingers. "Turn around, pack mule."

"Why you gotta bring donkeys into this? They've never done anything to you," I said as I turned around. Her chair locked into place, and I heard her stand. I swallowed heavily when her hand touched my back and slid around to the skin over my heart. Joss clasped her hands over my chest, and I closed my eyes, desperately committing the feel of her body to memory.

I squatted down, sliding my hands back until they were under her thighs. Boosting her up onto my back was easy, as was hooking my hands into place behind her knees so that they were flush against my sides.

Joss rested her chin on my shoulder. "I really should make you carry me more often."

My laughter was strained but not from her weight. "Yeah?"

No, any strain I was feeling wasn't because of her weight, I thought as I took the first step. It was all of it. I got such fleeting glimpses, touches, moments with her that even came close to what I wanted, so this felt like an embarrassment of riches.

It was the way she smelled, warmed by the sun.

It was the tickle of her hair against the side of my face.

It was her breasts pressed against my back.

It was the way she trusted me like this.

"Yeah," she said, slicing neatly into my ruminations before I could get carried away. "It's like you're my servant. I enjoy the way it makes me feel."

"You know, if someone told me five years ago that you'd thrive on humiliating me …"

She smacked my chest. "You'd still be here with me."

I couldn't help but sigh. "You're right. I would."

Large teak loungers topped with bright red cushions surrounded the pool. Carefully, I lowered Joss's legs until she could stand next to one of them, using the back of the chair as a hand rest.

While I turned the metal crank to pull the pool cover back, I saw Joss slide her black skirt off her hips until she could step carefully out of it.

As the water revealed itself, one foot at a time, the custom tile, a dark royal blue, lining the edge looked like a punch of summer brightness against the drab brown of the deck. Just as I did every single time I saw a color that even remotely approached her eyes, I tagged it onto my list.

Pool tile on a summer day blue.

Once the cover was in place, I stripped off my shirt, slid my feet out of my flip-flops, and took a running leap into the pool, tucking my legs up under my arms for maximum impact.

The water was the perfect temperature, bracing and painful for a moment until I surfaced in a rush and felt the heat of the sun on my face. I slicked my hair back and grinned over at Joss, who was glaring at how much water I'd splashed on her.

She was sitting on the foot of the chaise only a short distance away from the edge of the pool. With two hands, she pulled her tank top over her head and tossed it behind her.

I sank under the water, eyes pinched shut, because her simple blue swimsuit shouldn't have given me such a visceral reaction, but damn if there was anything I could do about it. Suddenly, I wished that I was swimming in ice cubes.

When I resurfaced, she'd lowered herself to the deck and slid herself across until her legs were in the water. I'd expected her to sink into the pool right away, but she leaned back on her hands and angled her face to the sun. Her hair was twisted up into a messy knot, curls poking out haphazardly as they caught the light.

Now that her eyes were closed, I took a greedy look at her. No, nothing about her held the artifice of trying to entice or seduce. There wasn't a single inch of her coated in gloss or the manufactured sheen of someone trying to push or tuck or highlight.

The sexiness that I saw in her was just her.

If the simple V of her swimsuit gave me a teasing glimpse of cleavage, the twist of the fabric on the side made me notice the curve of her waist, or the color somehow made her skin glow golden, it wasn't intentional.

"Are you swimming or not?" I asked; my voice rougher, deeper, and lower than I intended.

Before Joss, I never thought someone could roll their eyes with their eyes shut, but believe me, it was possible. But she got in, and I saw the way her eyes went soft and gooey, the way her shoulders relaxed and her chin lifted when she started gliding through the water.