Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(25)

My skin prickles. Not from the cold, but the feel of his touch, skimming over my back now in a soft, leisurely caress. Will is slow and methodical; he strokes every inch of my bare skin in smooth circles, down over my spine and edging around my sides in an almost-hypnotic rhythm, every touch sending ripples of sensation spiraling through me, the heat building, a bulls-eye between my thighs.

God, he’s good.

I find myself slipping into the breathless haze of desire, thoughts whirling now in my mind. Is this how he’d touch me when we’re naked and undone in each other’s arms? Or is this his self-control still holding tight? Given half a chance, would he be rougher, wild? Holding me down, making me pant and moan for more . . . ?

“All done.”

Maybe it’s my own desire talking, but I swear Will’s voice is thicker, his jaw clenched more firmly when I turn and take the bottle back. There are mere inches between us now, and I can see the heat of lust in his eyes.

“Thanks,” I murmur, with a playful smile. “Want me to do you now?”

Will holds my gaze, a challenge. “Right here?”

I grin. “There’s plenty of room.”

“I don’t know,” he replies, lips curling in a teasing grin. “I’m pretty big.”

I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. Will grins. “We were talking about my height, weren’t we?”

“Sure we were.” I shake my head, still grinning. What is it about this guy that I can go from turned on to laughing in hysterics in five seconds flat? I’m about to go retreat to my end of the boat, when my rod skitters and jerks in its place.

“You got a bite!” Will exclaims. I leap up and grab the rod, trying to keep my balance as the boat shifts and creaks on the current. Something’s biting alright, I can feel the tension on the line.

“It’s a big one,” I say, starting to reel it in. “I think it’s snagged on something . . .”

“Here.” Will gets up and moves to stand behind me. He wraps his arms around me, helping keep the rod steady.

Suddenly, fishing is the last thing on my mind.

His body presses against the length of me, his strong arms cradling me close. In an instant, I’m surrounded by him: his scent, the whisper of his breath against my cheek, the heat from his sun-drenched skin. It’s an avalanche of sensation, and god, it’s too good to be true.

How can someone just holding me feel so right?

I take a shaking breath, my pulse racing. His hands overlap with mine on the rod, and I can’t stop myself from flexing my fingers, threading them to intertwine with his. I don’t want this moment to ever end, but still, it’s a rush of relief when I hear Will’s voice curse,

“To hell with the damn fish.”

He throws the rod down and spins me around. I can only glimpse the determined hunger in his eyes before his mouth claims mine in a searching, searing kiss.

Yes.

Hot and wild, the fever rages through me in an instant. The boat rocks wildly, the wood groaning under our weight, but I don’t care, all I want is more of him. Now. I reach up, pulling him nearer, parting my lips to invite him in. Will’s tongue slides, deep and slow, tangling with mine in an erotic dance as his hands roam over my bare skin and the inferno between us rages out of control. Nothing else matters, nothing exists in the world but the crush of my body against his, and the devastating magic of his mouth as we—

SPLASH!





Nine.


The cold water closes over my head in an icy rush, shocking me back to reality again. The creek is only a few feet deep, so I easily kick to the surface; when I come up for air, I see Will, splashing beside me, wiping water from his eyes. He laughs.

“I guess the universe is telling us to take a cold shower.”

I grin, grabbing his baseball cap as it floats on by, and reach up to jam it down on his head. Water trickles down his face. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who pulled me in!”

“I didn’t pull anyone,” he protests. “Your boat decided to give up the ghost.”

He nods behind me. I turn and let out a gasp.

“Harold!”

The poor old rowboat has a massive hole splintered in its side, taking on water fast. “Don’t just splash there,” I cry to Will, swimming over. “Help me bail it out!”

“I think it’s past saving.”

As I reach it, the boat tilts over and starts sinking into the creek. Game over.

I watch sadly. That boat was a part of my childhood, and I guess now it’s gone for good. Will swims over and pulls me closer, treading water to keep us both afloat. “Hey, it’s OK,” he comforts me. “Maybe we can get it mended.”

“No, I think Harold’s time has come. Rest in peace,” I say watching it sink until just the prow is sticking out. I turn back to Will, and smile. “At least he went down in service to a good cause.”

Will grins. “The kiss that sank the Titanic.”

I laugh. “Just don’t expect me to give up a spot on my raft.”

“Never.”

Will slides his hands around my waist, and just like that, the cold creek water is no match for the heat between us. I shiver at the intimacy of our bodies suspended here in the water, the way my legs seem to part to wrap around his waist as he keeps us afloat with steady, sure kicks.