by Lori Foster
His jaw dropped. Then the bag tumbled to his feet.
Mortified, she wanted to run screaming out of the room naked, like a girl in an eighties horror movie. Instead, she forced herself to think rationally. This was just like taking a shower. Wet, hands in hair. Naked. With a complete stranger.
“It’s raining,” he said to her breasts. “I brought you my shirt, but it’s wet. Your bag and towel got hit by a wave and I couldn’t find the towel. And there’s a tree down on the main road—there’s no way for us to leave for the next hour or so. There’s a crew out there now clearing it, but it will be awhile.”
Sara just stood there and listened to him babbling, thinking this could only be a sign. A sign that maybe the beach was closed, but her plan was a go.
Given the way the last five years of her life had gone, it was possible she might never get another chance to do whatever could happen here with her naked and a gorgeous lifeguard in front of her.
Summoning her inner Cosmo, she fought the urge to squirm.
“Can we stay here?” Squeezing the water out of the bottom of her hair, she tossed it back over her shoulder, thrusting her chest out and sucking in her gut.
Kyle made a funny sound, almost like a low growl in the back of his throat. “Yes. We can stay here.”
She took a step toward him, holding her hand out for her bag. “That’s a relief.”
To her horny and humming body.
Chapter Two
If Sara touched him all wet and naked like that, he was going to lose it. In his shorts.
Kyle dodged her arm, forcing his eyes off of her smooth breasts and the way her hips dipped and swayed as she walked toward him.
He should ask her out. That’s what he should do. Ask her out, get to know her, show her he wasn’t after a quick roll in the sand. Then he could have sex with her. Over and over again, burying himself in those narrow thighs, making her call his name …
“Kyle.”
“Huh?” Damn, she was following him across the room. He wasn’t going to be able to hold out if she came within smelling distance of him.
“Can I have my bag? And your shirt to put on?”
Right. He stopped himself from just hurling the bag in her direction and politely handed it to her, staring at a spot on her shoulder so his eyes wouldn’t stray. His shirt was draped over the bag and she lifted it over her head, wiggling her shoulders, and he swore he wouldn’t look.
God, man, don’t do it, don’t go over to the dark side …
He looked. His white shirt was falling over her breasts, the damp material clinging to her, nipples rosy and clearly visible, as were the dark circles around them. Little folds of fabric hugged the curvy underside of each breast.
Oh, that was much better. Now she looked like first place in an Acadia Inlet wet T-shirt contest.
“It’s kind of big,” she said, fisting her hands in the hem, which hovered over her thighs. “But it’s drier than I thought.”
Then she did what would make a priest rip off his collar and sin. Her hands went under the T-shirt, sending it dangerously high. Kyle had some provocative mental images of what her fingers could be doing under there before they reemerged a second later.
The little red bikini bottoms rolled down her thighs until they landed on the floor with a wet thump, just a minute scrap of material that had only covered the essentials. But at least it had covered them. Now she truly was naked under that shirt. His shirt. Wearing nothing.
“Whew. That’s better. Those were so uncomfortable. I hate wet bathing suits.”
Now how was he supposed to behave himself when she said things like that?
He wasn’t. He said, “Me, too.”
“Oh.” Her blue eyes went wide. “I bet you’re uncomfortable, too. Your trunks are just as wet.”
Then she glanced down at them. He knew what she was seeing. Wet trunks, yeah. And a hard-on, which he hoped was impressive. If he was going to be mortified, he at least wanted to put his best face forward.
Sara tilted her head a little, studying him. “I thought the water was supposed to make it shrink.” Then she clapped her hand over her mouth, like she hadn’t meant to speak out loud.
Noticing how his T-shirt hugged the apex of her thighs, cupping her exactly the way he wanted to, he said without thinking, “Not under the circumstances.”
“If they feel really awful—your trunks, I mean—you can take them off.”
His heart about stopped.
“I have something you can cover up with.”
She rooted around in her damp bag, bending over a little, causing the shirt to ride up in the back. If he just moved a little to the left, he would see flesh where her thighs met her ass. He was on the verge of doing exactly that when she held up a white thing in front of him.
“My sarong.”
Her sarong was nothing but white filmy fabric with big red flowers on it. It was see-through. It was a skirt. “I’m not wearing that! That thing wouldn’t cover up a dimple.”
Sara suddenly grinned. “You’ve got more than a dimple, don’t you?”
Jesus, he was blushing. “Sara!”
The grin was still there, but she tried to sound contrite. “I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”
Yes. “No. Well, it’s just…” He took a deep breath and stuck his hands on his hips. “It’s just that when I walked in, you were just about naked, and hell, Sara, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t react to that.”
Taking in those long legs again, he said, “You’re gorgeous.”
Her cheeks went a little pink and her teeth worked her bottom lip. “Thanks.”
He felt the need to elaborate. “Your body is …” His jaw worked up and down.
Words failed him.
The ooey-gooey, thigh-warming moment spoiled for Sara. This was not when she wanted to be reminded that she was a blond Olive Oyl. “I know. I look like a boy.”
Kyle shook his head, his eyes darkening, voice dropping low. “No boy I’ve ever seen.”
That sounded promising. Sara fished a little. “I’m flat-chested.”
There were three feet between them, but Sara could feel the heat rolling off of him, sense the tightness of his muscles, smell the damp sand and water mixed with some kind of light cologne. He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head a little as he boldly dropped his eyes to her breasts.
“Then what am I looking at right now?”
“Uh …” She would not cross her arms over her chest like she had for the entire seventh grade. “Mosquitobites?”
His head shook back and forth. “No, ma’am, that is not what I see. I see … perfection. They’re just right.”
His hot gaze locked with hers. “A perfect fit.”
Sara hoped she wasn’t panting. Or drooling. And she had to know, she had to ask. “For what?”
“My mouth.”
Ohmigod. She shouldn’t have asked. Wait, yes, she should. This was it, the hint from Kyle that he would be a willing candidate for a fling. Only that was more than a hint, that was a blazing neon sex sign, and if she was smart, which she was, maybe the fling could happen right now.
In the next three minutes, before she spontaneously climaxed on his damp T-shirt.
“I guess we’ll never know if it fits unless we try it.”
Who the hell said that? Sara was so proud of herself, she wanted to throw her fist up in the air and start singing the theme song from Moulin Rouge.
Only Kyle dropped his head into his hands and turned away, pacing back and forth in the small room, muttering to himself. He was either suffering from multiple personality disorder or he was about to tell her no.
“Sara, this isn’t a good idea. I mean, I want you. God, I want you. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” He flung his hand in the direction of his trunks.
They were damp and showed her quite clearly how he felt about her breasts. In surfing terms, he had a hell of a swell.
Maybe if she approached this intellectually. “Kyle, y
ou said yourself, I’m almost naked. We’re adults, we’re trapped in this tiny little room together. It’s a healthy, normal attraction.” She had learned all about hormones in med school, which was probably the last time hers had been quite so active.
Right now same-said hormones were blazing through her body doing the Macarena.
Rubbing the dried sand off her foot with her ankle, she took a step toward him.
He backed up, almost running into the wall. “I don’t know you. At all. This isn’t right. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Fair? Of course it was fair. She wanted it. Him. Now. Times three.
Kyle said, “What I’d really like to do is get your phone number. I want to go out with you, get to know you. Maybe dinner or something?”
He shrugged, looking miserable and embarrassed, and she couldn’t find it in her to be mad at him after all. Kyle was clearly a nice guy who wanted to do the right thing, and despite her body’s protest, her brain knew he was probably right.
It was possible she wasn’t the one-night stand type anyway. She certainly wasn’t skilled at it, having never done it. And who knew how she’d feel about it tomorrow if she slept with a stranger today. “Okay.”
He gave a sigh of relief. “Good.”
“So sit next to me and we’ll talk. Just talk.” Sara wanted to hear about him. She had no interest in putting on her glasses, announcing she was a doctor, and sucking all the sexiness out of this encounter. Even if it was just today, for the next hour, she wanted to stay Sexy Sara, with Kyle’s eyes filled with longing.
Even if they didn’t have sex. Because once they left this room and she became Dr. Davis, any date they went on would be different. Kyle wouldn’t treat her like the woman whose bones he wanted to jump. He would keep his distance, she knew, like they all did.
Or maybe she was the one who always kept her distance, hiding behind her white coat and stethoscope.
Kyle wanted to believe that they would just talk. She looked innocent enough. Lowering herself to the floor, she crossed her legs and ankles and pulled his shirt down over her knees. It tented the fabric and kept it from clinging over her. She patted the ground next to her.
The concrete floor was uncomfortable when he sat down, but he drew his knees up to his chest, letting his legs fall open a little, and ran his fingers through his still damp hair. “Do you have a last name, Sara?” That was as good a place as any to start.
“Davis. Exciting, huh?” She smiled at him, looking up under long pale eyelashes. “How about you?”
“Vanderhoff.”
Well, this was a thrilling conversation. He shifted, crossing his ankles, wishing he could reach in and give his erection a big old adjustment. He was running out of room in his trunks.
“So how long have you been a lifeguard?”
“Six years.”
“Wow. That’s dedicated. I’ve always thought being a lifeguard must be exhausting. You have to be so constantly vigilant. People are relying on you to protect them.”
Kyle felt the knot of lust in his gut grow bigger. It just figured. If Sara was sent here to tempt him, she was doing a hell of a job. In all his years as a lifeguard, very few people had understood how challenging his job was, and how seriously he considered that responsibility. Now, here in the lifeguard hut, with a woman with the longest damn legs he’d ever seen, who was naked under his shirt, he was understood.
And he wasn’t going to sleep with her? He must be fucking stupid.
“Yeah, I love my job, but you get burnout.”
“Have you ever rescued anyone?”
He grinned and nudged her arm with his knee. “Besides you?”
Sara laughed. “Besides me. And hey, you rescued me, but not my top.”
Which was something he was really grateful for right now, since her nipples were still nudging against the drying shirt, giving him a damn good view.
“There have only been a couple of people who were actually in jeopardy. Lots of jellyfish bites. One guy had a heart attack while swimming. We also had a shark bite just last fall.”
“That was my friend’s boyfriend,” Sara said. “A doctor.”
“No kidding? Is he okay?”
“Yes.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and shivered. “It’s cold in here with the air-conditioning.”
“I’m not cold.” The total opposite, in fact. Burning. Everywhere. And he couldn’t resist. He said, “I’ll share my heat with you.”
Kyle wrapped his arm around Sara and pulled her snug against his side. She was so thin, her skin clammy cold, but she felt so good. Total woman, her slender fingers curling into his chest as she got comfortable, and her right breast lightly pressed against him. He shouldn’t be doing this. But there was no way he could stop himself.
“Mmm. You are warm.”
Her breath danced across his bare chest, her cheek boldly resting against his shoulder. “How long before the road is cleared, do you think?”
With a little luck, never. “I’ll check in a few minutes. Are you in a hurry?”
“No.”
Good. He wasn’t in any hurry either. Sara felt delicious in his arms, like sun and sand and a blue sky. Up close like this, he could see the flecks of gold around her pupil, see his desire reflected right back at him there.
Damn, it was just no use.
He murmured, “Sara, I’m going to kiss you. Unless you say no.”
Her mouth opened a little, her pale pink lips looking very sweet and moist. “We’re dating now, remember? You asked me out to dinner and I’m accepting. And people who date kiss each other.”
Who was he to argue with logic like that?
Chapter Three
When Kyle’s mouth covered hers, all Sara could think was that Tropical Storm Bonnie was her new best friend.
The pressure was perfect, nothing tentative, but not out of control either, just a firm steady kiss that held his warm lips against hers for a long, long minute.
It was slow, exploratory, gentle, Kyle’s hand resting on the side of her cheek, his arm holding her snugly in the crook of his elbow. His mouth came back again and again, his eyes drifting closed as hers did the same.
Her body responded, desire pooling between her thighs and in her breasts, making her lean into Kyle and open her mouth eagerly when his tongue pressed against her. When the tips of their tongues connected, the mood shifted from questing to urgent.
His hand dropped to her breast, caressing her through the thin cotton of the T-shirt, as his other hand slid into her hair, holding her in place while he dove into her mouth. Sara moaned her approval as he brushed across her nipple, giving a light squeeze. She twisted, desperate to get closer to him, turning so she was facing him and gripping his chest with her cool fingers.
He was hard, hot, his muscles tense as she ran her fingers across him. Sara went up on her knees, moving each to either side of Kyle’s legs, so that the shirt rode up to the tops of her thighs. Knowing what she wanted, she settled herself against him, the damp of his bathing suit sending goose bumps across her legs. The position had the advantage of nudging his erection securely between her bikiniless thighs, teasing her and thrilling a moan right out of her, loud and unrestrained.
“Oh, Kyle.” There was probably a reason she should stop, but Sara couldn’t think of it right now. She couldn’t think of anything but him, and the way her body was vibrating with pleasure from head to toe.
It only took a little up and down motion and she was caressing herself against the length of him through his trunks, the damp coolness of the wet fabric sending her shuddering as it hit her swollen clitoris.
“Sara.” Kyle broke away from her mouth, holding her hair tightly with both hands. “Oh, shit, stop. You’re killing me.”
“No, it feels good.” Sara kept moving, grinding herself against him, mimicking the motion of him inside her with greedy strokes, lost to all rational thought.
His body relaxed as he groaned, then without warning he gave a
muttered curse and sat up straighter. Rough and desperate, his hands snaked around to her behind and gripped her, thumbs stroking her skin, moving her harder against him.
Oh yes. She liked that, and held onto his shoulders as he thrust at her.
“It feels better than good.” Kyle shoved the T-shirt up and bent his head over her breasts.
Sara leaned back, tilting her head, urging her breasts forward. Kyle’s tongue flickered across one nipple, then the other, the airy light motion sending forth a rush of heat and moisture between her thighs. Then his mouth closed over her, sucking her in, covering almost her entire breast with soft wetness, his teeth grazing along her sensitive flesh.
Her hips stilled as she panted, clawing at his shoulders, the feel of him sucking and tugging suddenly sending her pitching forward into frenzied desire. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled back.
Then covered her other breast, leaving her left nipple wet and throbbing while he tortured the right. Sara’s feet pushed against the floor as she squirmed, his full erection nudging her between the thighs again, the cool damp trunks bumping her hot inner folds.
When he let go, plucking at her nipple lightly with his teeth, she moaned, wanting more. Wanting everything.
Kyle wiped the moisture off his shiny lips and gave her a slow grin. “I told you it would be a perfect fit in my mouth.”
“You were right.” The shirt gave in to gravity and fell back down, covering her.
Kyle thrust up his hips just a little, studying her. “Should we stop here?”
He nudged her again and she felt it clear down to her toes.
Should they jump into a tank with a thousand hungry piranhas? Was he insane?
“No, I don’t want to stop.”
Kyle stretched the neck of the shirt and ran his tongue along her shoulder. “What do you do, Sara Davis? I can’t figure you out. I want to know more aboutyou.”
Sara hesitated. She could tell him she was a doctor. It wasn’t a big deal. But being a doctor was her practical self, the glasses-wearing self who invested wisely and never walked in the parking lot at night alone. If she told him, it might not change anything for Kyle, but it would change everything for her.
