He drags his tongue along my ear, and his cock jerks against my stomach. “Let’s see how wet I can make you.”
Leif traces his hands down my sides, creating a wave of desire so strong my legs give out. He catches me and lifts me into his arms until my legs are locked around him, and then he walks out the back door of his condo. Laughing, I bury my face in his neck and close my eyes. I know we’re alone out here. It’s secluded but for his neighbors and there’s tall sawgrass on either side of the path leading around the houses and down to the beach. The waves rush the shore in hisses and bubbles, and Leif picks up his pace, running for the water at a speed that scares me.
“You’re going to be so wet after I get finished with you,” he says, breathing raggedly into my ear. “Dripping,” he adds.
“Soaking,” I squeal, readjusting my grip around his neck. “Sopping and soggy,” I cry out in between chuckles.
He runs into the cool water and takes us down into the water. It’s pitch black but for the moonlight, and his blue eyes search mine. His mouth slants up. “Soggy isn’t good. What about slick?”
“You are slick, you know that?” I return. He pulls us into shallow water and sits, bringing me on top of him—his huge, hard dick thumping my stomach anytime a wave rolls over our bodies.
He eyes the shore and his condo. “I left my work phone inside,” he says. “Does this count as our sleepover commencement? Skinny dipping?”
“I am dripping wet,” I say, lifting and lowering my shoulders. “The water temperature is nice. I forgot how good it feels to be in the water at night,” I admit, swallowing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this carefree. I wouldn’t even know how to define that word in my past. It’s meant something completely different to me up until this point.
“Naked. With a man?” Leif asks, drawing my gaze back to him. The shade of his eyes will haunt my dreams. It’s the shade the water is during the day. A light, crisp blue, but right now it’s black. Like oil. A contrast of truth.
“Never naked with a man,” I admit, hugging him closer—the heat from his body warming me. “You’re special, Leif Andersson. You already know that. What about you? Ever skinny-dipped with a woman out here?”
He shakes his head. “No skinny dipping with women. Not here. Not anywhere. This is a first. It is sort of nice. And you know just what to say to hook me a little bit more,” he replies.
I smile. He smiles. Then he kisses me sweetly, his hands a whisper touch on my face. “I’m not ahooker,” I murmur.
“I disagree,” he returns, standing up and taking me with him. “You’re a trap. One I’m still not sure fate didn’t set for me. Here in this place I never would have considered living,” he says, sighing. He walks back up the path slowly. “You had me in the water when it wasn’t for work. That’s a huge feat, for your information.”
“Why? You scared of drowning?” I tease, pressing a kiss against his salty neck. “It is dark and scary out here,” I deadpan.
“After endless hours of training in the cold, West Coast waters, being in the water is never something I choose to do on my own in my free time. I’m not a sadist.”
“Beach vacays are out of the question then,” I ask as he lifts me out of the water.
He nods. “I prefer snow skiing. Or exploring new cities in different countries. A cruise ship would be my worst nightmare,” he continues as he carries me up the beach.
“You live at the beach, Leif,” I point out as we enter the house. He sets me down, our feet leaving sandy pools of water on the shoe mat.
“I like water sports. Jet skiing and wakeboarding and stuff. But I don’t want to be in the water any more than I have to.”
We do our best to get the sand off our feet and legs and then race to his bedroom, the air conditioning turning our skin frosty. “Speaking of getting in the water and fun. Let’s hit the showers,” he says, waggling his brow as he scrolls both of his cell phones. It’s hard not to wonder who he’s checking for, or if there’s someone else. That’s my natural instinct as a woman in this century. That’s sad. In this moment, I give all of my preconceived notions away to the trash man. Leif isn’t going to hurt me. He isn’t a normal man. He is good. So good.
I cross my arms. “You’re a walking oxymoron,” I say, rolling my eyes, approaching the bathroom. “And I think it might be what I love most about you.” He beckons me with both of his hands as he cranks on the hot water, and I don’t refuse. His shower is large—two showerheads, one for each of us. I spy a pink bottle of popular women’s shampoo on one side and lose my breath. Don’t bring it up. He has a past just as I do.
Leif steps in the shower and holds the glass door open for me, all while eyeing my body like I’m on the menu. The steamhits me, and relief from the cold eases my chattering teeth. He stays on his side, washing his body with a handful of soap, while I rinse the salt water from my hair. “Where would you like to go on vacation? Living at the beach, it’s gotta be snow,” he says.
I grab the offending pink bottle to wash my hair and realize it’s full. Brand new. I squirt some in my palm and begin scrubbing my hair. “Anywhere but here,” I say. “I’m not opposed to beach vacations elsewhere. No beach is exactly the same. I’ve been snow skiing once when I was young. I don’t really remember it, though there is video of me flying down a bunny slope straight into a forest. My dad had to take off his skis to go in after me. Mom said I was pretty traumatized after that and just wanted to build snowmen at the base of the mountain.” I rinse my hair out. “Probably time I try again. Maybe now that Mom is…” The words almost left my mouth, branding me a selfish daughter. “Never mind,” I say. “I like this shower,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“You can live your life for you. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, you know?” Leif says, taking my chin into his hand. “Let’s go snow skiing together. A vacation.”
I smirk and swallow down the guilt. “She’d want me to try again after that disaster,” I admit. “Even if she doesn’t remember it now.” I grab Leif’s soap and start washing my body.
“I had the bathroom and kitchen redone when I moved in. It looked like the 70’s puked all over everything. I’m glad you like it.” Leif clears his throat. “They told me that was the shampoo you used at the store. I wanted you to have something other than Old Spice man wash for your hair. It’s so…long and girly,” he rambles.
Grinning uncontrollably, I point a soapy finger at the pink bottle. “You bought that for me?”
He nods, not meeting my eyes. “Figured at the very least we’d go to the beach together and end up here. No one goes to bedwithout showering first.” He shrugs. “You have to wash your hair after the beach.”
“True. That’s very thoughtful, though. Almost too thoughtful. Like you were planning on me spending the night.” I quirk one brow.
Leif looks off to the side, wearing a guilty smile. “I get what I want,” he replies, licking his lips. “Wasn’t a matter of if, just when.”
