The Bride Goes Rogue (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #3)(93)

What did it feel like, such freedom?

Lockwood had never experienced it, not truly. His life had been shaped and molded since birth, a line drawn on a family tree to future generations of the same. The weight of it all fell on his shoulders—the crumbling estates, the empty bank accounts, the judgment of long-dead ancestors—and there were days when he feared for his sanity. Not a soul would remember him, unless he was the one who failed.

A terrible legacy, that.

A splash snapped him out of his dark thoughts. Saint’s teeth, she was beautiful. In truth he’d never seen a more captivating woman. The sight of her slim limbs, high breasts, and incredible hair wound through him like vines, expanding and twisting, strangling him until he had no choice but to dive under the cool water.

When he resurfaced, she was directly behind him.

Long arms twined around his neck and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Bare flesh pressed soft and warm against his back. “About time you arrived,” her husky voice said in his ear, like a whisper of silk over his soul.

He shivered. The right thing to do would be to let her go. To put his hands up and acknowledge the mistake. His title as a gentleman demanded it.

But he was tired of always doing the right thing.

For once, couldn’t he act instead of think? Feel instead of strategize?

Heavy breasts rubbed on his shoulder blades, and despite the cold water his cock responded, thickening and rising against her calf. His problematic heart thumped behind his ribs, the beat echoing between his legs. He couldn’t seem to move or speak. Frozen by sensation.

Perhaps a shark would swim by and eat him. All his problems would be solved, then.

Sadly, his third cousin would inherit the title. Tooter, as he preferred to be called, was a complete nincompoop. Lockwood would wrestle the damn shark with his bare hands to prevent that travesty from coming to pass.

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” she said, nibbling his ear lobe.

Say something. Tell her she’s mistaken you for someone else.

Christ, she felt good.

When her bare quim met his lower back, his mouth went dry, and he began contemplating the practicalities of naked depravity on a beach. Better if she remained on her hands and knees, then no one would acquire sand in unfortunate places . . .

Now is the time to speak, before this goes too far.

Keeping his hands at his sides, he cleared his throat. “Madam, I believe you have mistaken me for someone else.” He winced. Even to his own ears, he sounded stuffy and ridiculous.

Her hold loosened. “Turn to your right. I cannot see your face.”

He moved as instructed—and she gasped, releasing him as if he was engulfed in flames. “Damn and hell! Why did you not say something?”

He could see her then, but he almost wished he hadn’t. No matter what else happened in the coming years, he would never forget this face.

She was simply stunning. Flawless skin and delicate features, with green eyes that glittered nearly gold in the moonlight. Her lips were full and plush, with a small bow in the center of the top one, and the lines surrounding her mouth meant she smiled a lot. “I couldn’t be certain you were real.”

“What?” She bent her knees to hide her nakedness in the dark water. “Are you some sort of masher?”

“I beg your pardon, but you accosted me. I was swimming and minding my own business when you wrapped around me like a limpet.”

She splashed him with her hand. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Obviously.”

Her gaze traveled over his chest and shoulders encased in the thin bathing costume. He resisted the urge to flex his muscles. For some inane reason he wanted her to like what she saw. “You must swim a lot,” she finally said.

“I do.” He hated every second of it, but he hadn’t a choice. Like so many things in his life.

“Why this late at night, though? What if you drowned?”

That would be Tooter’s good fortune, then. “I don’t sleep well. I also prefer the quiet.”

“Yes, I can understand that. It’s peaceful out here at this time, before high tide rushes in.”

“The perfect hour for midnight trysts,” he teased.

“Stop. I feel ridiculous enough as it is. Incidentally, I’m sorry for throwing myself at you.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“I suppose most men don’t mind when a naked woman swims up and clings to his very fit body.”

Very fit? “I cannot speak for most men, only me, and I liked it. A lot.”

“I noticed.” She smirked. “The water must not be all that cold.”

He choked on a laugh. “My apologies. I wish I could control it, but alas.”

“I’m quite fond of the organ myself. It’s temperamental but has a mind of its own. Sort of like a woman.”

“I like that comparison.”

“Well, fair warning, I am able to say it because I am a woman. You cannot.”

He moved to his knees, so their faces were on a more even level. “Is that how it works?”

“Yes. I love women and we have to band together as much as we can. Men are good for only one thing.”

“Midnight trysts?”

She smiled broadly, showing him even, white teeth. “Precisely.” Then her smile fell as her gaze darted to the cliffs. “Though I suppose I’ve been stood up tonight.”