Trying It All

by Christi Barth

  He slid his eyes down her, assessing with the precision of a metal detector at an airport. “In that dress you couldn’t carry five cents.”

  “True.” With a wink and an easy smile, she offered, “How about an IOU?”

  A couple of days ago, Riley would’ve paid twice that to get Summer to not come on this trip. But here they were. Coexisting waaay the hell more than just peacefully. It was an improvement that he in no way regretted.

  But he still had trouble making sense of it. Of how she’d hidden so much from him. How every hidden layer he discovered made him want to know even more about this woman. This woman who could so easily distract and destroy him with her wrongness. Destroy the walls he’d built so carefully, the systems he’d put in place to make sure that every action, every decision, was measured and safe.

  Nothing about Summer fit that description.

  When Riley sent his mind to a task, he finished it. At this point, there was no doubt he’d keep trying to learn about Summer, until she was no longer such a maddening mystery. Maybe then he’d be able to shake this obviously unsuitable attraction. He told himself it was just the need to solve a puzzle. Coupled with a serious case of horndog fever.

  One of the many missing pieces, however, was her motivation. Why, when everyone else had gone to bed a half hour ago, worn out from volleyball and bodysurfing and more than a few bottles of red wine, was Summer still out here with him? With a man she’d claimed to hate just a week ago? A man who bored her, drove her crazy, and, according to her, sucked the fun out of life more effectively than a priest showing up at a junior high dance. Riley hadn’t changed. Well, he’d stopped baiting her and picking at her. But who he was—the careful, rational person who was diametrically opposed to her whimsical, take-nothing-seriously lifestyle—hadn’t changed.

  “Why do you care so much what I’m thinking?”

  Summer tapped a finger against her lips. The gesture reminded him of their kiss in the sky. Which was now going on his top ten list of things ever, along with gelato in Milan and the ACSs’ trip last summer to Rio to watch Michael Phelps make Olympic history. “You’ve got an intensity about you. Like I could parade the entire Redskins cheerleading squad in here to do cartwheels off the diving board and you wouldn’t even notice.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Riley agreed. Hell, at this point he couldn’t even remember if their pool had a diving board. Not with the scalloped edge of lace along her chest dipped so low he could probably tell the shade of her nipples if only it wasn’t so damned dark out here.

  “I’m curious what could possibly be spinning your brain wheels that furiously.”

  Riley swirled the dregs of a very fine Chianti in his glass. Why not just tell her? At least once he knew, he’d have a shot at getting some sleep tonight. Or not…if the answer gave him something to visualize…Fuck it. He downed the last of the wine in one gulp. “Are you wearing a bathing suit?”

  “Why?” Summer turned her head to look at the pool, with its whimsical underwater fish along the walls illuminated for the evening. “Do you want to take a dip?”

  “No—that’s what I’m thinking right now.”

  Laughter bubbled from her lips. “That’s it?”

  “Yep. I’ve been trying to figure it out all night.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask?”

  Put like that? His former hesitancy sounded stupid. Which just pushed Riley into providing some semblance of logic. None of which had existed in his brain until this very second. “I didn’t want to insult you. My not knowing if that’s a cover-up or a dress shouldn’t make you feel like you dressed inappropriately for dinner.”

  “Oh, I don’t feel insulted,” she bristled. Summer jerked upright on the padded lounger. “Because you wouldn’t recognize couture fashion, straight off the runway, if it was laid out on your bed with the supermodel still in it.”

  Great. He’d pissed her off. Again. Easy enough to do even when Riley was on his best behavior and working at full concentration. Crazy fucking easy to do with three glasses of wine in him and a half-woody pulling the blood from his brain. That made it statistically far less likely he’d discover the color of her nipples tonight.

  Not that he’d been planning to make a move.

  At least now Riley had an excuse to rake his gaze over her, stem to stern, one more time. Take in the way the lace clung to every curve, every rounding…and then just stopped, exposing so much tan, smooth skin he couldn’t decide where he’d lick first. “So what you’re wearing is fancy, fashion-show stuff?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. Exposing another long line of tanned skin Riley wanted to taste. Fast enough to give him whiplash, her anger was gone—statistically, a huge improvement over how long she usually stayed pissed at him. “Of course not. We’re at the beach. This was an impulse purchase at Target that cost less than that wine you just finished off.”

  “Well, you look great in it. You look great in everything.”

  “Thank you.”

  There. They were back to being polite. In record time. “I also didn’t want to step over a line.”

  “When?”

  She might as well have tossed him into an interrogation room and hung a single naked bulb over his head. It was the only way to explain the trickle of sweat running down his spine as a result of her question. “By asking you what you’re wearing under there.”

  “Is that you being cautious again? Or are you seriously that Mr. Darcy level of well-mannered?”

  It was impossible to tell which answer wouldn’t piss her off again. Riley stuck with the truth. “Both?”

  “I know you’re from the hoity-toity country club set. I can see the spit-and-polish manners. But why the caution?” She angled her leg to run her toes up and down his shin. “You had your tongue down my throat six hours ago.”

  How could Summer not see that was precisely the reason for all of his caution? “Just because we kissed, that doesn’t grant me special access. I can’t take things for granted. I can’t assume I can talk about your underwear, for God’s sake, let alone hope to see it.”

  “You hope to see it, do you?”

  Normally, Riley was five thousand percent smoother than this with a woman. Normally, he assessed his options, chose a woman who was smart enough to be interesting between rounds of sex and pretty enough to make him want multiple rounds of sex, and then turned his considerable charm on like a tractor beam. It always worked. With very little effort.

  Summer was different. Summer was throwing him off of his game. The only way he figured it out was because he hadn’t wanted Summer. Hottest woman in any room, no question. His attraction to her stunning good looks had just cranked him one level higher full of piss and vinegar. Because what was the point of wanting what you couldn’t have? Riley had known he’d never so much as hook up with the brunette bombshell with the razor-sharp tongue and the utter lack of respect for how he lived his life.

  Not wanting to want her wasn’t the same as not wanting her at all.

  Jesus Christ. If he were to ever utter that sentence in front of the guys, they’d flay him alive for its moronic-ness.

  It was true, though.

  When Riley had started having panic attacks right after the accident in the Alps, the doctors gave him a little blue pill. It smoothed out all the rough edges. Kept the panic from digging its claws in and taking hold.

  Summer Sheridan was the diametric opposite of those pills he’d stopped taking the day he joined the NTSB. She’d rubbed him the wrong way pretty much every time they were together, from meeting in May and extending through Labor Day. But she also woke up every damn nerve ending in his body, every receptor in his brain.

  She ruffled his feathers. Kept him on his toes. Was more unpredictable than this season’s relief pitcher for the Nats. Summer pulled him so far out of his comfort zone it felt like they’d flown right off the edges of the map. The part, in the olden days, they simply printed with the words “Here Be Dragons” to indicate th
e unknown dangers.

  Riley avoided danger. However, avoiding it completely was impossible. So when confronted with a dangerous situation, Riley took control.

  And he’d damned well take control with Summer.

  He slid off his lounger to sit, one leg cocked, on the end of hers. Ran a hand up that impossibly smooth skin to almost the edge of her impossibly short skirt. “Yeah. I want to know what you have on under there. More than that, I want to see it. Do you want to show me?”

  Summer blinked once, twice. Then she rose to her feet. “What I want is to go skinny-dipping.”

  “No. No way.”

  “I thought I convinced you there are no sharks on this stretch of the coast.”

  Obviously she was just baiting him. Still, numerous objections automatically poured out. “Sharks aren’t the only predator in the water. In the dark, you can’t watch out for jellyfish. Crabs. All the lifeguards are off-duty. You could get caught in a riptide. The current could be too strong.”

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Summer raised her eyebrows. Taunting. Pushing.

  Riley could push right back. Hands fisted on the navy cushion, teeth gritted, he said in a low voice, “It’d be very, very dangerous for me to see all of you naked.”

  The only sign that his words had affected her was the increased rate of speed at which her chest rose and fell. It was enough.

  With a head toss that sent her hair flying behind her back, Summer said, “So you won’t do it?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. Don’t. Be a spoilsport.” She backed away. “But if you don’t want to skinny-dip, you should give serious consideration to rescuing me. I know that’s your jam. Because I’m going to do it. And I’m not great in the ocean…along with all the other reasons you just listed that it’s a bad idea.”

  Summer whipped off her dress. Well. That answered that question. No suit underneath. No underwear, either. The flicker of the tiki torches revealed nothing but golden skin from head to toe. It caught Riley off guard. So off guard that when she ran through the gate to the dune crossing, it took a couple of moments for the lust to fade enough for him to order his thoughts.

  Shit.

  She was just reckless enough to do this. Maybe she was pushing his buttons; maybe Summer could swim the 800 fly like an Olympic medalist. Maybe, Summer really wasn’t a strong ocean swimmer. He couldn’t risk that being the case. Couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to her.

  So Riley shucked his shirt and took off after her at a dead run.

  If she’d left her white dress on, she’d have been easier to spot. The full moon helped some, but not much. It was sheer luck that he spotted her at the edge of the surf after he’d pounded across the packed sand of the dune.

  All it took was five steps in the deeper sand of the beach to lose sight of her. Riley undid his shorts. Let them drop to the cool sand as he finally paused at the damp line signaling high tide. She was reckless, but not stupid. Probably just bobbing a couple of dozen feet straight ahead to make it easy.

  Hopefully.

  As soon as the next wave crested, Riley dolphined into the surf and used a strong crawl to head directly out. The water was much colder than during the day. The crash of the waves much louder. If he plowed nose-first into a jellyfish, he wouldn’t be able to tell until it was too late.

  None of that slowed his measured pace. Riley wanted to find Summer. But he wanted to get both of them out of the ocean safely, too. He used each stroke, each kick to assess the speed and direction of the current (north) and the chance of a riptide (zero). A quick turn to face the lights of the house confirmed he’d forged an arrow-straight path.

  Two arms encircled him from behind. “You found me.”

  Thank God. Riley flipped the switch on his adrenaline-boosted emergency mode. But he kept the irritation buzzing through his system like a triple shot of espresso. “What you just did used up all your stupid for the week. What the hell was that about?”

  “You wanted to know what was under my dress.” Letting go, she swam around to face him. Luckily, they were past the wave area and able to bob in the gentle pulse of the water with no trouble. “I decided to show you. And I decided to do it in a different venue.” Her hair flowed, dark as squid ink, across the top of the water.

  That was all it took. A single look at her hair streaming across the blackness hardened him to steel. His worries about work fell away. His irritation with Jerry for telling the guys about him kissing Summer disappeared. There was nothing but the cool water, the starry sky, and Summer. And he intended to make sure her world shrank equally to encompass nothing but him.

  A hard kick brought him closer. “You sat across from me all night with no panties?”

  “It was a hot night.” Summer slapped her hand in the water, spraying it at him.

  “It’s about to get a hell of a lot hotter.” Riley reached out and pulled her against him. Wet and completely naked. Holy hell, they’d never done more than kiss, and now he was feeling all of her. He didn’t mind fast-forwarding to the good stuff. He just wished he could see more. And that he didn’t have to tread water to keep from drowning while doing it.

  He clamped his mouth onto hers. Hard. The bruising kiss was punishment for scaring him. For making him chase after her. For making him skinny-dip after his clearly stated no on the subject.

  For making him want her so badly his teeth ached with it.

  So Riley took her. Took what he wanted. Took that wide, sensuous, teasing lower lip of hers and scraped it with his teeth. Took the resulting whimper of pleasure that came from Summer and gulped it down like it was twenty-year-old Scotch. Took her mouth like he was a freaking Viking plundering the land. And the whole time he was oh-so-aware of her naked breasts on his chest. Her nipples drilling into his skin. The way his finger slid into the sweet divot at the top of her ass. How her hip flared out from the narrow waist beneath his palm.

  Riley wanted to see all of her.

  Taste all of her.

  Try all of her.

  Summer’s quick and clever hands pushed at his boxer briefs. She slid from his grasp beneath the water to push them off his legs. Her cheek brushed the tip of his dick. Riley’s hips jerked toward her, toward the softness, toward more.

  She resurfaced, dragging in a big gulp of air. “I’m impressed. You’ve got the goods and then some.”

  “Glad you noticed.”

  She skimmed her hand down his ribs, over his belly, and lower still to curl around his balls. Which immediately tightened and swelled at her touch. “Believe me, I’d do more than just notice if it weren’t for that pesky lack of air underwater.”

  “I’ll hold you to that rain check.”

  “Just hold me, Riley.”

  Riley wanted to oblige. But he had to take something for himself first. He cupped her breast with his left hand, still raking his other arm through the water to stay afloat. “God, you’re perfect,” he marveled.

  It was just big enough to spill over his palm. Softer than the water flowing around them, but firm and pert. The nipple—he’d give a thousand dollars for the sun to come out so he could see the color—hardened even more as he brushed his thumb across it. So he gave in to instinct and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. Pinched just a little. And Summer let out a squealing moan that probably woke up every fish within a hundred feet.

  “You like that?” It was obvious from her reaction. But Riley needed to hear her say it. Needed her to voice the fact that he’d brought her pleasure.

  “Sooo much.”

  Even though it meant thrashing his legs harder to keep his head above water, Riley couldn’t resist mirroring his action with his other hand. His squeezing both her nipples at the same time made Summer’s head fall back into the water. And wasn’t that a dick-hardening sight to behold: her hair streaming around her like a mermaid’s, her breasts offered up to him.

  Then their knees hit. Treading water this close to each other wasn’t working. “Wra
p your legs around me,” he ordered.

  She did, and pulled herself up to lock her hands behind his neck. “You feel so good. So hard…everywhere.”

  Her praise alone was almost enough to send him over the edge. Especially since her pussy was now rubbing against his belly and her feet were pressed on his ass. If Riley moved, even a little, he could be inside of her. It was what he wanted more than anything. And judging by the way her hips rolled against him, Summer was just as needy, just as turned on, just as hot.

  “I want to be hard inside you.” Testing, he sank a single finger into her. The contrast between her heat and the cool water amplified all the sensations, all the nerve endings firing throughout his body at the silky warmth hugging his finger. Summer thrashed against him. Raked her nails down his back hard enough to possibly bring some sharks into the area with the scent of blood. Riley didn’t care. He took the sting of salt water in the scrapes as a trophy. Proof that he’d driven Summer crazy in a new way that thrilled both of them.

  “Condom. We need a condom.”

  “I’m naked, Summer. You saw to that. I always carry two—safer to have backup—but there’s no secret condom stash up my imaginary sleeve…Oh. Oh, shit.” They were on the same page about wanting to have sex, now. But they couldn’t. For all his planning, all his second-guessing, all his preparation, Riley was caught as unprepared as he’d been at sixteen.

  Summer unclasped her legs. Slid them down his flanks. “This sucks.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But we can’t have sex now.” Summer let go of his neck and kicked to get a couple of feet away.

  “Agreed.”

  “It’s probably for the best.”

  Huh? What did she mean by that? How was this oceanic cock block anything but a horrific suck storm? Was Summer having second thoughts? Because of the way they fought with each other? Because of Chloe?

  As they dog-paddled back to shore, Riley once again made himself say the undoubtedly expected, “Agreed.”

  But he didn’t agree at all.

  Chapter 8

  The platterfuls of picked-over crab shells down the middle of the table were all that was left of their enormous crab feast. Of course, they’d all worked up an appetite. The ACSs kicked off the day with a run on the boardwalk. Then a swim in the ocean, followed by volleyball, lunch, another swim, paddleboarding, and hilarious attempts to sit in an inner tube right in the breakers that flipped the guys six out of seven tries. Madison, Brooke, and Chloe had lain on the sand for most of the day, only joining them in the ocean for dips.