Within Reach

by Sarah Mayberry

  Sick of herself, she rolled onto her belly and reached for her book. If she couldn’t be trusted to behave on her own, then clearly she needed some serious distraction.

  A few minutes later, Eva’s delighted squeals made Angie prop herself up on her elbow. Michael was horsing around with the two girls, taking turns lifting them up and tossing them into the water. It was a lovely moment, a perfect family snapshot—except Billie wasn’t here to complete the picture and Angie couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the way Michael’s muscles bunched and flexed each time he lifted and threw Greta or Eva.

  She shifted to rest her forehead against the open pages of her book. She inhaled the scent of paper and ink and took refuge in the only comfort she could find—that soon this day would be over and she would know never to say yes to this kind of excursion again. Or at least until she could safely look at Michael and see her friend rather than a man who made her aware that she was a woman. A woman who hadn’t had sex for more than six months.

  And counting.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MICHAEL BRUSHED THE stinging salt water out of his eyes as Eva and Greta cavorted around him.

  “Easy on your old man. You don’t want to break him,” he said as Eva tried to climb his back like a little monkey.

  “You won’t break. You’re too strong,” she said.

  Michael waited till she was dangling off his arm before grabbing her and tossing her into the water for the third time. She landed with a huge splash, her face a picture of delight. He couldn’t help laughing, too.

  It was good to know she could still feel this kind of joy. Good to know he could, too.

  Greta giggled by his side and he swooped on her and lobbed her through the air in a gentle arc. She landed beside Eva and they both collapsed into fits of laughter again. Thirty seconds after that, they were clamoring for a repeat performance.

  Twenty minutes later, he was officially over being the human play-gym and he left the girls to their own devices and waded toward shore. The sand was warm underfoot as he headed for the silver dome of the sunshade. Angie was lying on her belly, her torso propped on her elbows as she read her book. Without his permission, his gaze raked down her long, athletic legs before he got a grip on himself and focused on Charlie.

  His son was still out to it, his cheeks rosy from the heat, one hand curled over his heart. Michael leaned down to adjust the awkward angle of his hat, being careful not to drip on him. Then and only then did he sink onto his towel and glance at Angie.

  She gave him a small, neutral smile. “How was the water?”

  “Wet and cold and full of screaming little girls.”

  “You looked like you were holding your own.”

  “Barely.”

  She returned her attention to her book. He sought Eva’s bright pink sunshirt in the water, satisfied that she and Greta were okay, and told himself he would not look at Angie’s legs again. He’d barely framed the thought before his gaze was running up the lean length of her body, settling on the firm roundness of her backside. Out of nowhere the memory of the time he’d embraced her after the break-in came calling—the way her body had fit so well against his. The way everything had matched up so naturally.

  He reached for his sunglasses and forced himself to focus on anything except Angie. After a few seconds she stirred. He watched out of the corners of his eyes as she rose to her knees and tossed the book into her beach bag.

  “I might go see how cold the water really is,” she said.

  “Sure thing.”

  He didn’t even fool himself that he wouldn’t watch her walk to the water’s edge. Her stride was long and easy as she navigated past family groups and sandcastles and clusters of teens. Her butt bounced, her hair swayed against the smooth skin of her back, her hips swung ever-so-slightly from side to side.

  He could feel himself getting hard and he swore under his breath. He didn’t take his eyes off her, though, as she strode into the shallows. When the water was lapping around her thighs, she lifted her hands in the air and took a hesitant step backward, a sure sign that the coldness of the water had registered in earnest. She hovered uncertainly for a moment, then pinched her nose and sank beneath the water in one determined move.

  A second later she shot to her feet, body streaming, her long dark hair plastered to her head and neck and shoulders and breasts. She looked like a siren, unknowable and desirable and utterly female, more than capable of luring a man to his ruin.

  Not that he needed much encouragement. Apparently not even the great love he’d had for Billie was enough to stop him from wanting something he could never have.

  He turned away, disgusted with himself. Of all the women in the world, why did he have to have the hots for Angie?

  Charlie made a mewling sound and when Michael glanced over he was blinking, his expression uncertain as he tried to work out where he was.

  “It’s okay, mate. Daddy’s here. We’re at the beach, remember?”

  It took Charlie a moment to fully wake, but once he registered their surroundings he was on his feet, a big smile on his face.

  “Water. Me go for swim.”

  Charlie protested, but Michael insisted on fitting him with the inflatable wings before leading him to the water’s edge. Eva looked up from where she and Greta were hunkered collecting shells, giving him a quick wave. Michael waved and eased Charlie into the shallows. There was nothing his son liked better than the water and soon he was kicking and splashing to his heart’s content.

  “Someone’s having fun.”

  Angie joined them, and Michael was glad he wore his sunglasses because for the life of him he couldn’t stop his gaze from dipping to her breasts. The cold water had turned her nipples hard, and two small points pressed against the wet fabric of her swimsuit top.

  His body surged in reaction, as responsive and out of control as a teenager’s. He lifted his gaze to her face and reminded himself that she was his friend—and, more important, that she’d been Billie’s friend.

  It was enough to kill the buzz of desire running through his body and he didn’t let his gaze slip again as Angie took Charlie’s free hand. Between the two of them they swung Charlie to and fro, dipping him into the water then pulling him out again. It was a game Charlie would have been happy to play all day, but Michael could feel the intense heat of the sun bearing down on them. He glanced at Angie and saw that her nose was a little pink, as well as the back of her neck and shoulders.

  He’d slathered the kids with sunscreen and they had their SPF 40+ tops on, but nothing was proof against so much relentless UV.

  “Time to head home?” Angie asked, having noticed his assessing glance at the sky.

  “I think so. Before we all turn into lobsters.”

  “I’ll round up the little ladies.”

  Eva was predictably sulky about having her fun cut short, but he averted disaster with the promise of ice cream on the way home, a piece of domestic bribery that generated so much goodwill that the girls even helped carry some of the gear to the car. They found an ice-cream parlor and sat beneath the shade of a giant ghost gum in the adjacent nature reserve to eat their bounty.

  By the time they made their way across town it was nearly five. He opted for fish and chips for dinner and they ate them off the paper, picnic style, sitting cross-legged on the deck.

  The moment Angie had polished off the last of her chips she brushed her hands together decisively. “Right. That’s me. I’d better get going.”

  “No. Not yet. I wanted to show you my art assignment for school. I drew the life cycle of a tree and Mr. Parker said it was really, really good,” Eva said.

  Michael busied himself folding up the paper from their meal. He knew why Angie was going so early. He didn’t like it, but he understood, and a part of him—the part that had been
on edge all day—was grateful.

  But there was another part, too, that wanted her to stay, to wait while he put the kids to bed and hang out with him in the warm night air and maybe share a cold beer or two.

  He would never ask her to do that, though, because today had already offered more than enough temptation. As it was he’d be lying awake for hours, berating himself for every second of desire he’d felt.

  The doorbell echoed through the house before Angie could respond to Eva’s cajoling. It was Greta’s parents, come to take her home, and somehow Angie got roped into bathing Eva and Charlie instead of leaving. Eva then insisted Angie come inspect her assignment, and Michael got Charlie into his pajamas and tucked him in.

  Michael was loading the dishwasher when Angie appeared in the doorway. She was still in her swimsuit, having simply pulled her capri pants on when they left the beach, and her nose was shiny and pink, her hair rumpled and slightly messy.

  “Eva’s out for the count. She hasn’t brushed her teeth but she’s so tired I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

  “She’ll survive one night.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He saw that she’d already collected her bag, and her car keys glinted in her hand.

  Nothing like a quick escape.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said.

  “Tomorrow?” He was wiping down the sink but he paused, momentarily confused.

  “I’m taking Eva to the movies. Remember?”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.”

  Angie bit her lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I can make it another day, if it’s too much. After today, I mean. I’m sure Eva won’t mind.”

  “No, no. It slipped my mind. That’s all.”

  Her smile was tight. Uncomfortable. “Okay.”

  “I mean it, Angie. It’s not too much.”

  Although that was the problem, really. It was never too much with Angie.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Michael.” She gave him an awkward little wave before disappearing through the doorway. He stared at the empty space, regret clashing with relief inside him.

  He knew it was smart for her to go, for them to limit their time together until this thing blew over. But he hated what it was doing to their friendship. To the warm ease that had always existed between them.

  Before he could think too much about it, he took off after her. He caught up with her as she was about to walk through the door and he reached out to grasp her arm to stop her from leaving.

  “Angie…”

  She stilled, looking at him with wary, uncertain eyes, her slender arm slipping through his fingers. He tightened his grip, anchoring her.

  “Stay and have a beer with me.”

  The wary look in her eyes softened and he knew without asking that she missed their old ease, too.

  “I’d love to. But I won’t. Thanks for asking, though. Believe it or not, it means a lot.”

  She tugged on her arm, an unspoken request to be released. He didn’t let her go.

  “It wasn’t that bad today, was it?” he asked.

  The judge and jury in the back of his head told him to let her go and step away and leave well enough alone. He didn’t move, his gaze glued to her face.

  “Compared to what? Water boarding?” Angie’s smile was wry.

  His gaze dropped to the trace of salt that had dried on her collarbone. His focus shifted minutely to the right, finding the telltale flutter beneath her skin where her pulse was beating wildly at the base of her neck.

  Racing. Out of control.

  His own pulse was racing, too, because he was holding her arm, touching her, and they were alone, truly alone, for the first time in weeks.

  He raised his gaze to her face again and her blue eyes looked into his, full to the brim with the same frustration and need that had been doing battle within him for too long now.

  All the want and lust and desire that he’d pushed down, down, down came rushing up, rocketing through him. Moments from the day flashed across his mind’s eye: Angie, wet and glistening from the sea, her hair slicked back, her nipples beaded from the cold. Angie stretched out in the sun, her body loose and relaxed.

  “Jesus, Angie…” he whispered.

  What self-control he had blew away like dust on the wind. All he could think about was touching her. Tasting her. Satisfying the many, many questions he had about what she liked and how she would respond and how it would feel to be inside her.

  He wasn’t sure who moved first, her or him. There was the thunk of her bag sliding down her arm to hit the floor, followed by the muted clank of her keys a split-second later, then he was pulling her into his arms and she was lifting her face to kiss him.

  She tasted of salt and fresh air and life and he spread his hands across the small of her back and pulled her closer, need an urgent tattoo drumming through his blood. She felt so good, so strong and supple, and they fit together perfectly.

  He stroked her tongue with his and she made an approving sound and he needed to be a whole lot closer. He slid his hands onto her ass, palms curving over her greedily, drawing her hips closer to his. He was hard as a rock and she must have felt it because she rolled her hips forward, pressing her mound against his erection. He retaliated by walking her two steps backward until she hit the wall. He pinned her there with his body weight, devouring her mouth, inhaling the scent of beach and hot woman.

  Her hands slid beneath his shirt, gliding up his belly before cupping his pecs. She thumbed one of his nipples and he lifted her more firmly against him, thrusting his hips against her. She smoothed her hands down his belly and over the front of his board shorts and gripped the hard length of him through the thin fabric.

  It had been so long and she felt so good, he was afraid he would embarrass himself. When she stroked her hand up the length of him the top of his head about came off. He reached for the tie on her halter top, tugging it free with one urgent pull and yanking it down. Her breasts spilled out, creamy and full, her light brown nipples already beaded with desire.

  He ducked his head, tonguing her right nipple, tasting more salt as well as a sweetness that could only be Angie. Her hands grasped his head and for a moment he thought she was going to push him away. Then her fingers burrowed into his hair and she pulled him closer, her whole body was trembling with need.

  His hands found the opening of her pants. He fumbled with the button. She pushed her hips forward, encouraging him. The button slipped free and he slid his hand down her belly, past the waistband of her swimsuit bottoms. His fingers found silky hair before moving into slick, hot heat, and then he was sliding a finger inside her, feeling the tightening of her body around him.

  “Michael. Please…”

  The words were a whisper, a plea, an exhalation. They blew his mind, tipping him over the edge. He wanted everything. Right now.

  He started pushing her pants and swimsuit down, intent on only one thing—being inside her, making her come, feeling those long legs around his hips.

  He lifted his mouth from her breasts and found her mouth again, kissing her avidly. Her hands tightened on his hips and she tilted her head back. It took him long seconds to register that she was trying to break their kiss. He eased away a bare few inches, chest heaving, his pulse a roar in his head.

  Surely she wasn’t going to call a halt? Because he needed this, needed it so badly.

  “Not here,” Angie said. “The children…”

  Reality slammed into him. He became painfully aware of exactly where they were, of the fact that his sleeping children were meters away and that he’d been about to push Angie to the wooden floor and plunge inside her.

  He tensed, stunned at his own recklessness. Angie’s hands found his face, framing his jaw, and she pr
essed a fierce, almost violent kiss to his lips.

  “Don’t,” she said, and he knew that she meant “don’t think, don’t regret this before it’s even over.”

  Her hand grasped his and she led him to his office. The door closed behind them with a solid thunk. Angie pressed his palm to her belly. She squeezed his hand tightly, a silent order for him to keep touching her, then she stuck her thumbs into the sides of her pants and shed them and her swimsuit bottom in one efficient move. The sight of her long legs and the neat patch of dark, silky-looking hair between them drowned out the recriminations already circling his mind. Need once again took over, undeniable, demanding.

  She took a step backward and shimmied the rest of the way out of her tankini top, and then she was in front of him, naked and aroused and ready. Without a word he pulled his tank top over his head, then he shucked his board shorts. His erection pulsed against his belly so hard it ached. He closed the distance between them, kissing her, his hands traveling down her slim back to her ass, one hand delving farther, into the hot, wet place between her thighs. Her hand found his erection, stroking him, her movements jerky and urgent.

  Her legs started to tremble and together they went down to the rug. Angie lay spread before him like an impossible offering and every thought, every memory, every consideration dissolved and there was only the need to be inside her, to lose himself in the slick warmth of her, to feel alive and to feel pleasure.

  He stretched on top of her and her legs spread to accept him. He gripped himself and found her entrance. He slid inside her, into tight, wet heat. And then he really did lose his mind.

  * * *

  ANGIE GRIPPED MICHAEL’S big shoulders and bit her lip as he slid inside her, filling her, stretching her. It felt so good she sobbed, her fingers digging into his skin.

  This. This was exactly what she’d needed. What she’d craved.

  She looked into Michael’s face, straight into stormy gray-green eyes. They stared at one another for a long, long moment, then he lowered his head to kiss her and his hips flexed and he started to pump into her, each stroke more intense than the last.