by Jo Leigh
“I’ve thought about it, too.”
He glanced up and caught her gaze. Her eyes were bright blue, fueled with desire and a dozen other emotions he couldn’t name.
But he wanted to.
He wanted to know what she was thinking. Everything she was thinking.
“If you were dreaming this up right now, if this were your fantasy come to life, what would happen next? What would you want to happen next?”
Her expression seemed suddenly guarded and he knew he’d guessed at least some of what was going on in her head. “I thought we were doing erogenous zones, not Fantasy 101?”
“Trust me, there will be plenty of erogenous zones involved in what we’re about to do.”
“And what are we about to do?”
“You tell me.” He cupped her face. “In your most erotic thoughts, what happens next?”
She didn’t even have to think. “You pick me up and carry me into the shower. We soap each other or we kiss. Or both.”
He gave her a slow, lazy grin that made her blush despite her boldness. “I’ll see what I can do.” He stood, picked her up and stepped into the shower.
The door closed and the steam engulfed them. Hot water pelted his back and flowed over his skin. Easing her to her feet, he enjoyed the slow glide of her body down the slick, hard length of his.
“Turn around.”
Deanie heard his deep voice, but she couldn’t seem to comply. She’d pictured just this situation before and she was anxious to see if it lived up to her imagination.
Her gaze swept the length of him. His broad shoulders framed a wide chest sprinkled with crisp, dark hair that stretched from nipple to nipple in a V-shape. The brown silk narrowed and funneled down his abdomen and pelvis to disappear in the thatch of dark hair that surrounded his massive erection. His legs were braced apart, his thigh muscles taut, sprinkled with the same dark hair that covered his chest. His gaze was liquid gold and just as mesmerizing.
His big, powerful form filled up the shower stall and blocked the spray of water. Water hammered the back of his head and ran in tiny rivulets over his shoulders down his chest and abdomen to drip-drop off his swollen testicles.
She watched as he reached for the soap. He rubbed the bar between his large hands. Lather squeezed between his fingers and trailed down his powerful forearms.
“Turn around,” he said again.
She obeyed this time and he stepped up behind her. She glanced down as his arms came around. His dark hands spread the white lather over her pale stomach. He cupped her breasts and slicked the soap over her nipples. She gasped.
“See? I told you we wouldn’t forget about the erogenous zones.” He plucked and rolled the hard peaks until she trembled with sensation.
He paused then to reach for the soap. He didn’t just lather his hands this time. Instead, he slid the bar down her quivering stomach, over the bare flesh of her sex.
“You’re so soft and smooth,” he murmured, his voice as thick as the erection pressing into the cleft of her buttocks.
All of a sudden, the humiliation and pain involved with a full “beauty” session at the hands of Romeo’s one and only waxing specialist—Miss Ethel from Ethel’s Day Spa—seemed a small price to pay for Rance’s admiration.
He stroked her, rubbing the bar of soap in a sweet circular motion before moving down between her legs.
“Spread your legs for me.” She widened her stance, giving him better access. The hard edge slid along the soft folds between her legs. The soap brushed her throbbing clitoris and intense pleasure rushed through her.
“Is this what happens in your fantasy?”
“No.” He went still and her body hummed in expectancy. “It’s better than any fantasy. Sweeter. Sharper. More intense.” She felt his muscles ease. And then he moved, doing wickedly delicious things with the soap that told her he’d not only been waiting for her response, but he’d liked it.
A lot.
HE SOAPED her from head to toe, giving extra attention to every hot spot until Deanie shook with a need so fierce she couldn’t stand it. She turned in his arms, desperate to feel him.
She touched everywhere she could reach, slicking her palms up and down his hard shoulders and hair-roughened chest. His taut hips and muscular buttocks. When she cupped his testicles, he growled.
He turned and flipped the water off. He grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf and hooked it around her neck. Where the past few moments had been wild and fast, the brakes came on and everything slowed to a nice and easy and nerve-racking pace.
The fluffy white towel moved over her aroused body with an incredible slowness that made her want to scream. She didn’t. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he pulled away. He wiped the moisture from his own body, scrubbed at his damp hair and then tossed the towel to the floor.
Before Deanie could draw breath, he reached for her. He pulled her flush against him. His hard length pressed into her stomach and he rubbed himself while his mouth devoured her in a deep, lusty kiss that made her insides clench and her nipples tingle.
Gripping her buttocks, he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. His hard, pulsing flesh grazed the sensitive area between her legs. The length rubbed against her slick folds as he turned and stepped from the shower stall.
He kept kissing her as he walked the few feet from the bathroom to the bedroom and eased her down on the king-size mattress.
Rounding the end of the bed, he grasped the shorts he’d shed. His shoulders bunched and his muscles flexed as he leaned down and retrieved a small foil packet from his pocket. He came to stand beside the bed, towering over her as he rolled the condom down his thick length with a swiftness that amazed her.
In that next instant, he was right where she wanted him, between her legs, his weight pressing her back into the mattress. His erection slid along her damp flesh, making her shudder and moan and arch toward him. He slid his hands beneath her, gripped her bottom and tilted her to take all of him. He plunged deep.
A shudder ripped through him and she touched him, trailing her hands over his hard buttocks, pulling him more securely inside. Her body clasped him, convulsing and quivering when he finally retreated. But he didn’t leave her empty for long. He thrust into her again and again, building the pressure and pushing them both higher until, finally, he sent her soaring.
Deanie cried out Rance’s name and dug her nails into his hard muscles as a wave of ecstasy washed over her. A tidal wave, it seemed, because the sensation went on and on, drenching her senses until she was left floating.
She opened her eyes to find Rance poised above her, a fierce look on his face, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that reached inside of her and tugged at her heart.
When she gave him a blissful smile, he pounded into her one final time and let himself go. Every muscle in his body went rigid and his deep groan echoed in her ears.
He rolled over without breaking their intimate contact and cradled her on his chest, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder. Large hands stroked up and down her back in a reverent motion that brought tears to Deanie’s eyes.
But she didn’t cry. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow when she said her goodbyes and walked away from Rance.
For now, she held tight to the joy that rippled through her and focused on the man beneath her, the warmth of his neck against her cheek, the steady thud of his heart against her breast, the feel of his powerful arms locked around her.
This man. This moment. This.
12
THE SUN WAS just coming up when Rance opened his eyes. He felt Deanie’s warmth next to him, her bottom nestled against his penis, her back flush against his chest, her full breasts cushioned by the arm he’d tucked around her. She sighed, snuggling more securely against him. The sound echoed in his head, making his blood thrum and his heart beat faster. His senses felt alive with the sight, the sound, the taste, the feel of her.
&nb
sp; He felt alive.
A wave of pure satisfaction rushed through him. It was a feeling unlike anything he’d ever felt before. With any woman. Any competition.
Shit.
Rance eased away from her and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He pushed to his feet and paced to the French doors. He hauled open the door and the morning breeze wafted in, but it provided little relief to his hot body.
Hot, of all the friggin’ things. His skin itched and his muscles bunched and his dick twitched in memory of the past night and the awesome sex. And damned if he didn’t want more.
What had happened to working her out of his system?
He raked a hand through his hair and fixed his gaze on the breathtaking view. Orange fingers of light played across the horizon and cast fiery rays on the glasslike water. The beach was practically deserted except for the small group making their way toward the far end and the marina.
Erica. Rance knew it was her even before he spotted her familiar blond hair. He remembered her invite and his promise to join her and her group of friends. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the usual rush of adrenaline at the idea of climbing onto a wakeboard and riding hell-bent for leather across the ocean.
His heart didn’t pound and his pulse didn’t race and he didn’t feel the slightest bit of excitement at the prospect.
Rather, he yearned to crawl back between the sheets, pull Deanie into his arms and kiss every inch of her body until she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
Holy shit.
He walked back into the room and retrieved a spare set of clothes he’d purchased at the clothing store downstairs. He pulled on the army green board shorts and did his best to ignore the inviting picture Deanie made curled on her side, her delectable bottom facing him.
He wasn’t going to scoot up next to her, gather her close and drink in the intoxicating aroma of her—
The thought stalled as she rolled onto her back. The sheets twisted, tugging down around her waist as she moved to reveal her pale breasts tipped with taut, rose-colored nipples. Her dark hair lay spread out on the crisp white pillow. Her eyes were closed, her face calm and serene. Her full lips were pink and swollen from his kisses. She looked so beautiful and sexy lying in his bed.
His.
Rance braced himself against the notion, yanked on his T-shirt, and stuffed his feet into flip-flops.
And then Rance did the only thing he’d ever done where Deanie Codge was concerned.
He walked away.
“I TOLD YOU HE’D COME.” Erica turned a smile on Rance when he approached the group gathered on the dock. Every gaze swiveled toward him and a handful of smiles erupted.
“This is Rachel and Buster.” Erica started introducing the young men and women who surrounded her. They were all young—early twenties maybe. They looked typical of the radical sports set with their trendy hair and multiple piercings. “Carrie and Sue.” She pointed to two women who wore navy blue wet suits. One had a buzz cut with a dozen earrings lining one ear, while the other wore her long hair in dozens of tiny braids. A stud glittered from her nose.
“And this is my boyfriend, Zee,” Erica added as she pointed to the young man just to her left. Where the others had been all smiles and eager hand shakes, the tall, muscular blonde—the ends of his short, spiked hair dyed a dark black—merely gave a quick nod.
“Zee’s the best wakeboarder on the island,” Erica went on. “That is, until you arrived. Man-o-man, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“It’s an honor, Mr. McGraw,” Buster said, stepping forward. “You’re, like, my idol, dude. I saw you dive into those sharks last year when you did that freestyle skiing competition in Hawaii. Awesome. Totally awesome.”
“There are plenty of sharks around these waters,” Zee said as he zipped up the vest of his wetsuit. “We’re neck deep in them all the time.”
“You totally rocked in the base jumping finals over in Peru.” The comment came from one of the women. “You made even the hardest jump look easy.”
“Thanks,” Rance said. “It’s all about staying focused and—”
“We do some base jumping over by the cliffs,” Zee cut in, obviously not the least bit interested in Rance’s advice. He popped open a can of sex wax and started to rub down his board. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“That snake wrangling thing last year was way rad,” Carrie said. “I watched it on ESPN with my brother,” she motioned to Buster “and the both of us nearly peed our pants. But you were cool, man. You didn’t even flinch, much less look scared.”
Obviously, Zee hadn’t done much snake wrangling, because he didn’t comment. Instead, he shoved the lid onto the can of wax, picked up his board and said, “Are we going to stand here on the dock and run our mouths all day, or are we going to thrash some waves?”
“He takes his waves seriously,” Erica told Rance once Zee had climbed into the boat and out of earshot.
“He should. That’s what it takes to make a winner.”
Rance knew that firsthand because he’d always taken things seriously. He’d approached each and every competition with the serious intent of winning, and he always had.
Until now.
Like hell, buddy.
Okay, so he’d stopped giving it his all some time ago, but he’d managed to fake it because he was a competitor by nature and so he’d kept up his winning streak. He knew how to intimidate his opponents and how to keep his game face. He’d learned that early on when he’d tackled steers with Clay. It was all about showing the other guy who was boss and acting before your opponent could react. He’d relied on speed and stamina and heart.
An image of Deanie pushed into his head, but he pushed it right back out. He wasn’t getting sidetracked, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting a few doubts undermine the career he’d spent a lifetime building. While each competition seemed harder and harder—and much more outrageous—he wasn’t going to let it undermine his determination. The key was not to give up.
Not to walk away.
No matter how much his gut ached to do just that.
Rance summoned the competitive nature that had lived and breathed inside of him for so long and stepped onto the boat. He took the spare wet suit Erica retrieved from a compartment near the stern of the boat and headed for the small cabin. A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed and ready for action.
He was ready, he told himself. Even if the notion of climbing into the water and onto the board didn’t stir even a quarter of the excitement it once had.
He was tired. Exhausted. In a good way, of course—the sex had been incredible. But exhausted just the same. Of course, he wouldn’t be into it as intensely as someone like, say, Zee, who’d probably had a full night’s sleep.
The boat roared to life and they headed for open water. Fifteen minutes later, they slowed to an idle. Zee dropped over the side of the boat with his wakeboard. Erica took her place behind the wheel, revved the gas and the boat roared to life.
Behind them, Zee climbed onto the small surfing apparatus, knees bent, arms tight as he gripped the rope that trailed from the back of the boat. The boat quickly took up the rope’s slack and jerked it tight. Water kicked up and so did Zee as he held on and trailed behind.
The speed increased and Zee went into action.
He veered this way and that. He rocked onto his side and flipped up into the air and proved beyond a doubt why the locals considered him the best. He was every bit as good as Rance had once been.
Maybe even better.
Like hell. That should have been his first thought. That had always been the first thought whenever he’d seen someone better or stronger or hungrier.
Not anymore.
Because you’re just not that into it. It isn’t your passion. It never has been.
The truth echoed in his head as the boat slowed to a halt again. Zee raised a victory hand before jumping off the board into the calming water and excitement echoed among the group.
“That’s the way to do it!”
“Totally rad!”
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Erica left the engine idling and came up beside Rance.
“Very good.”
“You should see him on a surfboard. Or skis. Or with a parasail. You name it, he can do it. We all can,” she added. “Just not quite as good as him.”
“Is that right?” Rance eyed the young man and an idea struck.
A crazy idea that he dismissed immediately.
Zee, board under one arm, swam the few feet to the back of the boat and hauled himself up the ladder. He gave Rance a smug, bring-it-on look before taking his place behind the boat’s wheel and gunning the engine for the next person.
“Why don’t you hit the water?” Erica’s eyes danced with excitement. “We’d love to see you in action.”
“You guys go first.” He motioned to the handful of people around him. “Then I’ll do my thing.” He would, he told himself, no matter how his muscles ached or how tired he felt. A little wakeboarding was sure to pump him up for the flight to Australia and the competition that awaited him.
And if it didn’t?
It didn’t matter. He was still going. Regardless of the fact that his heart wasn’t in it anymore and he couldn’t stop thinking about Deanie and he had a sudden hankering for his aunt Lurline’s blueberry cobbler.
Rance McGraw couldn’t just piss it all away.
“SO THAT’S IT? You’re just going to piss it all away? Just like that?” Shank asked when Rance called him later that morning.
It was close to ten o’clock and Rance sat in the lobby of the hotel where he’d been for the past few hours trying to work out the details of the crazy idea he’d had earlier while watching Zee and the others. An energy drink sat on the table next to him, courtesy of one of the numerous hotel staff that hustled around him. The place had already come to life. Guests walked here and there, some headed for the pool, others for the beach.
Deanie wasn’t among them.
