by Laura Moore
Her thoughts were diverted by Hal’s shout of welcome. “Hey, Sean, hey, Dave, it’s about time you two showed up.” He waved a clipboard at them. “Get suited up and in the water, pronto. Special workout tonight—in honor of Dr. Lily Banyon.”
Lily glanced at Sean again. His expression had become studiously blank. Catching her stare, he gave her a terse nod in place of hello, then he knelt and dug his mesh equipment bag from inside his larger nylon bag, tossed it by the edge of the pool, and headed toward the men’s lockers.
Her eyes followed him, her uncertainty turning to misgiving. Sean obviously didn’t want her here.
“All right, guys, let’s get going. Hop in.” Their coach’s loud voice cut through the casual chatter around the pool. “We’ll start with a nine-hundred meter warm-up. Four hundred swim freestyle, three hundred kick—with fins or not, your choice—followed by two hundred pull freestyle.”
At once, the swimmers disbanded, heading off to their usual lanes. Lily quickly shucked off her cutoffs and T-shirt, stripping to her Speedo. She rummaged through her gear bag, pulled out her goggles, pull buoy, and fins, shoved her clothes inside, and rezipped the bag.
“I think I’ll have you swim in lane eight, Lily,” Hal said. “McDermott and Cullen usually have the lane to themselves. They need some fresh talent to keep them sharp.”
Lily opened her mouth to protest, but Dave spoke first. “Hey, Lily. Glad you could make it, but I think you’ll be keeping Sean company on your own tonight. My shoulder’s been feeling a little tender, Hal.” Dave rolled his tanned shoulder tentatively and winced, giving proof to his words. “I’m going to drop down a couple lanes and give it a rest. Wouldn’t want to injure my rotator cuff.”
Hal nodded, a frown furrowing his heavy brow. “Swim in lane four. You can put on your Zoomers and lead the group, but if that shoulder starts to hurt, get out,” he cautioned. “And don’t forget to ice it tonight.”
“Sure thing. Have fun, Lily,” Dave said with a wink, before grabbing his blue mesh bag and sauntering over to the pool’s middle lane.
“You set for equipment, Lily?”
“Yeah, I’ve got everything, thanks.”
“Then get going, kid,” he ordered, as if Lily were thirteen again. “Sean’s already in.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” she said, wishing she were a hundred miles away from Coral Beach’s brightly lit natatorium.
She was dawdling, making a huge production of placing her fins by the foot of the starting block, aligning them just so, then positioning her pull buoy alongside the fins. She killed some more time as she fiddled with her goggles, adjusting and readjusting the thin rubber strap, which already was a perfect fit. Unfortunately, swimming was a minimalist sport. She was running out of ways to avoid the inevitable, when she’d have to jump into the water and share a lane with a nearly naked Sean McDermott.
What in the world had she gotten herself into?
Sean was already well into the warm-up. His freestyle was smoother than she remembered. She watched critically as his elbows emerged high above the water on his recovery, as his fingers and forearms, like a blade, sliced cleanly into it again, making hardly a splash. His powerful stroke ate up the fifty meters with an effortlessness that convinced her he could continue swimming like this for hours and hours.
His strength was unbearably sexy.
She watched Sean glide into the wall, reach up for his black fins, and pull them on. Not once did he look up, his concentration ferocious. Without pausing, he pushed off the wall, his fins adding extra force to his kicks. He swam submerged on his back.
While Sean was pulling on his fins, Lily had pretended to be busy herself. She’d made a show of tugging on her goggles, just in case he happened to glance up, and saw her staring like an obsessed ninny. Through the tinted blue of her goggles, she watched him surface.
Oh my God. Her knees went weak, threatened to buckle.
Sean was doing a butterfly kick on his back.
Her eyes traveled down the length of his torso and stopped, transfixed. She swallowed convulsively. Yet she couldn’t have torn her eyes away from the sight of Sean’s narrow hips if someone had screamed, Fire! Encased in black Lycra, they moved in a suggestive rhythm, breaking the surface of the water, sinking, and then rising again, over and over. Unbearably erotic, an answering beat drummed deep inside Lily. Helplessly, she conjured endless hours of sex, Sean’s body driving into her with the same relentless, unbroken rhythm, each flex of his hips thrusting to her very womb.
“Something wrong, Lily?” Hal’s impatient voice demanded.
Lily nearly leaped out of her skin. She was the only one left on deck besides Hal. “No, nothing,” she said hurriedly, hyperconscious that her voice was reedy thin. “Just about to jump in.”
To clear her mind of the sexual fog that lay thick and heavy, she blinked rapidly—only to mutter a soft curse when she realized what had happened. Yanking her goggles off, she dropped to a kneel and swished them viciously in the water.
“What’s the problem now?” Hal’s patience was obviously wearing thin.
Embarrassed, resentful, and praying Hal wouldn’t guess the real reason why, Lily ground out her explanation. “My goggles fogged.”
“They broken? I’ve got—”
“No, no . . . ,” she interrupted tersely, and felt immediately guilty. It wasn’t Hal’s fault her goggles had literally fogged from the heat of her aroused body. It was hers. That’s what she got from staring at Sean McDermott’s groin for too long: fogged mind, fogged goggles.
Determined to ignore the sight of Sean moving like a bold lover through the water next to her, that incredible, muscled body within touching distance, Lily gritted her teeth and dove in.
It was torture, physical and sensual.
Sean should have known he was playing with fire.
Out of habit, as swimmers do when only two occupy a lane, Sean and Lily split it, swimming side by side, back and forth, in long, repeated sets. They’d hardly exchanged a word, which was for the best.
Sean wasn’t sure he could form a coherent sentence at this point.
His mind was filled to bursting with Lily, with her body. She was a wet dream come true. Her silver-and-blue Speedo clung like a second skin. When he saw the outline of her nipples pressed against her suit, he groaned, a loud underwater moan of frustration. He wanted to tear away the fabric and cover those tight nipples with his mouth.
He wanted her.
Instead, he raced her.
It began slowly, and he was the one who instigated it, out of self-preservation and desperate reasoning. If he swam fast enough, he’d keep ahead of her, wouldn’t have to gaze at the luscious curves of her body as he was taking a breath, wouldn’t screw up his timing like some novice swimmer and choke on a lungful of chlorinated pool water.
And if he swam fast, really fast, the blood would remain near his pumping heart rather than flowing straight to his cock. He’d never swum with a hard-on before and he didn’t intend to tonight.
Lily had always been a true competitor, and with Sean, competition was second nature. Almost immediately, she sensed his intention to pull ahead of her at every send-off, a mind game of intimidating raw power. Instinctively, Lily increased her pace, refusing to give way.
Their attitude was no different than when they’d tested each other as children, sprinting to touch the wall first. But now, they were adults, and no matter how gifted a swimmer Lily was, she couldn’t out-swim Sean. A superb male specimen, he was stronger, bigger, and thus his stroke was more powerful. Moreover, Lily hadn’t been subjecting her body to the kind of grueling interval workouts Hal Storey devised for his swimmers.
They’d come to the last segment of the night’s workout. Hal had instructed them to do a set of five two-hundreds, “descending,” meaning that each two hundred was to be swum at a slightly faster pace than the preceding one.
It was demanding to say the least, and by the time they had finished the t
hird two-hundred, Lily’s arms felt like spaghetti, her legs like blocks of cement. Nevertheless, she continued, pushing herself to the max. Her reward, the knowledge that at least she was making Sean work for each victory he clocked. They were both gasping for air as they watched the electronic timer for the next send-off, intense focus mirrored on their faces.
I should have known this wouldn’t work, Sean thought. Lily had way too much grit and perseverance. As they waited for the sweep of the second hand to signal their send-off, he could see the telltale signs of fatigue laying claim to her: the trembling of her arms, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Yet she was still swimming like a torpedo.
Maybe he should ease up on the pace with this last two hundred, give her a little rest.
The second hand hit the top of the clock and, as one, Lily and Sean pushed off the wall, their bodies perfectly streamlined. Rather than pulling ahead of Lily, this time Sean backed off, consciously setting a slower pace.
Within ten strokes, Lily had surged ahead of him by half a body length. For Sean, the next one hundred and seventy-odd meters seemed an eternity. He tortured himself, watching her through his goggles, the way her hips rotated toward him, as though offering herself on their watery bed.
With an outstretched hand, Lily slammed into the wall, finishing just before him. She tore off her goggles, her eyes glittering angrily as he pulled up alongside her.
“Nice set,” he offered shortly.
“You creep,” Lily growled the accusation. “You want to be some macho jerk and set a race pace for the entire workout, fine. But don’t you dare toss a measly two hundred meters my way, like you’re bestowing some present.”
Guilty as charged. If the tables were turned, he’d be as furious as she was. Especially since she didn’t know the real reason he was swimming like a man possessed. What was he supposed to do? Drag her flush against him so that she could have hard proof that she was turning him into a lust-driven madman? He wanted to howl in frustration. “You looked like you were struggling,” he snapped defensively. “I was merely giving you a chance to recover. . . .”
“Yeah, whatever.” Lily looked pointedly away from him.
Hal’s voice had them both jerking their chins upward. “How are you feeling, Lily? You two been swimming up a storm. Nothing like some good friendly competition, that’s what I always say—”
“What’s next?” Sean interrupted, wanting nothing more than to get the practice the hell over with. Lily was staring fixedly ahead, refusing to look at him. Shit, he cursed silently. He wished he could take that last set back. He hated it when someone sandbagged—slacked off intentionally, and that’s just what he had done.
Sean could have kissed Hal’s unshaven cheek when he looked at the clock and said, “I think that’ll be it for the night. That was a good workout, guys. Swim down easy. . . .”
She could hardly move, yet she continued swimming, fully aware she would hurt even more if she left the pool without a proper warm-down. Little by little, the pool had emptied, swimmers tiredly hoisting themselves out of the water. Gathering up their gear, they trooped off to the showers. Sean had abandoned the lane long ago, hardly bothering with a warm-down.
If there was a God, Lily hoped He’d make Sean suffer leg cramps and painfully tight shoulder muscles tomorrow.
Hal signaled to her from the side of the pool. She pulled up and treaded water. “Yeah, Hal?”
“I’ve got to duck into the office and make a call to a coach who’s hosting an upcoming meet. You remember where the lights are?”
She nodded.
“Hit them when you’re done.”
“Okay.”
“And Lily?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t drown.”
“Very funny,” she replied with an answering grin.
“You did good tonight, kid,” Hal praised her gruffly. “You can join my masters’ team anytime.”
For the second time tonight, absurdly emotional tears pricked her eyes. “Thanks, Hal. If I ever stayed in one place long enough—”
“Who knows? After all these years of wandering, maybe it’s time to settle down. You could do worse than your own hometown, Lily. Coral Beach needs people like you. Think about it.” Hal grinned down at her. Then, with a wave of his hand, said, “Finish your warm-down, kid. I’ve got to call Lester before he hits the sack.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
She was standing in the shallow end, against the pool’s wall. Her arms were crossed on the deck for support, her slicked blond head was bowed over them: the picture of fatigue.
Sean had returned to the pool deck, looking for Hal so they could discuss entries for the upcoming meet. But Lily was alone. Seeing her like this, looking so exhausted, left him feeling lower than a snake’s belly. He shouldn’t have pushed her so hard. But he would only make it worse if he showed any sympathy; she’d only read it as pity.
He adopted his standard mocking approach. “Having trouble getting out of the pool, Lily? There’s a ladder on the side there for the old ladies who come and do aqua aerobics.”
Everything inside her stilled. That condescending wretch. She felt him come closer, and was careful not to stir an inch, not even a hair.
“You should get out of the pool and take a long hot shower. It’ll make you feel better,” he suggested, not un-gently. His brow furrowed with worry.
She ignored the thread of concern in his voice and concentrated on not moving too suddenly. Slowly, as if in unbearable agony, she lifted her head. He was dressed once more in his khakis and shirt; his sneakers were in one hand, his gear bag in the other. Good. She let her face crumble, her expression slip into wretchedness. Her lower lip trembled, a special added effect. “I—I’m not sure I can even make it to the ladder,” she confessed haltingly. “My whole body’s shot.”
Damn, she must be hurting worse than he’d imagined. Trying not to stare at her lush lower lip quivering helplessly, Sean dropped his gear bag and sneakers and stepped forward. “Here,” he said, leaning over, stretching out his hand. “Grab my hand. I’ll pull you out.”
She’d braced her feet against the wall of the pool, knowing she’d have to strike fast. They grasped hands. The second his tightened about her forearm, she jerked backward with all her strength.
Physics was on her side.
Caught off-balance, Sean somersaulted through the air, with only enough time to yell, “Shit!” before he landed with a cannonball-sized splash.
Lily braced her arms on the pool deck. She’d intended to jump out and make a mad dash for the ladies’ locker room but her efforts were hampered by her convulsive laughter.
A surprised, “Oof!” flew from her lips. Sean’s arm had snaked out and wrapped around her waist, dumping her backward into the water. She pushed to the surface to find Sean glowering menacingly.
He was sopping wet and just as furious. Lily’s laughter redoubled, then died away when his hands took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. Mere inches separated their bodies.
“What are you doing?” Her voice came out an alarmed squeak. Her eyes flew to his. They sparkled with green and gold lights.
“Payback time, Lily. You’ve pushed me once too often. I had my cell phone in my pocket. I don’t think it’s waterproof. My leather wallet is in my rear pocket, crammed with pictures of my adorable niece and nephew. Basically, Banyon, you owe me. Big time.” His tanned face, with drops of water still clinging to its chiseled planes, descended.
He was going to kiss her, she realized, panic-stricken at the thought. “Don’t, Sean, don’t!”
“I think I have to. It’s been a long time coming. Oh, by the way, I like lots of tongue.”
Indignant, her mouth opened, ready to skewer him.
But Sean was quicker. He shut Lily up the way he’d been dreaming of for so long. For years she’d driven him mad, made him crazed with desire. Now, by God, he was going to taste her. The passion and frustration inside him erupted. He seized her mout
h, molding her lips to his own. Carnal fantasies gave way to a reality a thousand times sweeter. Starved for her, Sean’s lips plundered, boldly claiming her as his.
Lily’s resistance died on a ragged moan of pleasure.
He reveled in the sound, in the helpless tremors that racked her limbs, in the lips that parted, welcoming him. He wanted even more, wanted her tongue tangling wantonly, mating with his. His tongue swept inside, sampling her honeyed warmth. Triumph surged when Lily met him with an eagerness that matched his own. In the long-standing duel between him and Lily, this skirmish was the sweetest of battles.
Lily had never been kissed like this, with an ardor so dangerous it sizzled and cracked, sending sparks shooting everywhere. Her fingers clutched his sodden shirt, needing to feel him pressed against her, to glory in his solid, muscular heat.
“Lily,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning her lips. Slowly, Lily’s eyes opened, stared dazedly back at him. Her eyes had never looked like this, like a summer sky painted in the softest of blues. Their loveliness shook him.
“This payback could take awhile—years even,” he warned her huskily. “Let me taste you again,” he whispered, his mouth already settling over hers.
When at last their lips parted, Sean’s breath was ragged.
Although his face was only inches away, to Lily the distance seemed vast. She drank in the sight of him— Sean, the headiest of wines—and it made her flush with pleasure, made her heart sing to see the blatant, masculine arousal stamped upon his features. To see his eyes gleam green and gold, fired by desire.
Her own need left her dazed, out of control. All she knew, all she craved was his touch, his taste . . . the feel of him. The urgency of it nearly painful, Lily gave a helpless cry. Sean’s response was immediate: his arms tightened, drawing her flush against him, and his mouth swooped down to thrill her anew.
His hands roamed in long, sweeping strokes, greedily learning curves known only from stolen glances. Some part of him had always thought of Lily as an icily distant goddess. Wrapped in his embrace, she burned and fanned his own desire into brilliant flames that licked and spread, engulfing them both. She was all that was soft and giving. And Sean couldn’t get enough of her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he would never get enough, that his desire for Lily was insatiable, endless.
