I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, and Dan plants his heel in the dirt and spins.
“What areyoudoing?” I ask, laughing.
Dan clears his throat, and I watch the way his shoulders tense with probably a little too much pleasure. “I think the point of skinny dipping is the thrill that youmightbe seen. But the goal isnotto be seen.”
I’m standing here, naked in the dirt beneath a nearly full moon, and this man is staring at the trees? Absolutely not. I’ve stripped down to nothing in the woods, and I want to be looked at, dammit.
“Then what’s the point of doing it with someone else?” I ask.
Dan clears his throat again, then blows out a long breath. “Well, uh, there are circumstances…I mean, there are scenarios where…if you and I…I mean, we said this wasn’t a real date, but—so, uh, I mean…we probably should have had a conversation before the clothes started coming off, don’t you?—”
Is he…oh my god, is hebabbling? Steely, controlled, one-word-and-a-grunt Dan McBride isbabbling. It’s almost too much. I squeeze my thighs together, desperate want for him coursing through my body. I’m desperate for him tolook.
“Turn around,” I say, interrupting his stream of half-formed thoughts.
His steady stream of interrupted sentences screeches to a halt.
“What?” he asks, his voice raking over the word like tires over gravel.
My heart feels like it might pound out of my chest, but not because I’m nervous. No, it’s because my need for him feels like sitting at the top of a roller coaster, waiting to tip over onto that first drop. I desperately want to go on this wild ride with him.
“Turn. Around,” I tell him, my voice husky with desire.
He pulls in a breath and holds it for a beat.
And then he turns.
He meets my eyes first, his jaw set, his brow furrowed, like I’m an exam he’s studying for. Then his blue eyes, glowing in the moonlight, begin their descent. They trace down my neck and along my collarbone, caressing my bare shoulder before sweeping across my breasts. I breathe in, lifting them toward him. His tongue sweeps across his full lower lip, and a small sound very close to a moan escapes my throat. His gaze continues to rove over my body, heat licking at every inch of my bare skin that he studies. He’s probably five feet from me, too far away for me to reach out and touch him, but I feel every movement of his eyes. It’s like he’s tasting me from afar, and from the way his teeth sink into his lip, I think he likes my flavor very much.
Being looked at by Dan McBride feels better than any sex I’ve ever had.
When his eyes retrace their journey up my body, finally meeting mine again, I nearly step back from the force of his attention. It’s almost too much.
And without a second though, I spin on my heel, sprinting for the dock. When my toes reach the end, I leap, my hair flying out behind me as I squeal into the night sky, then hit the water with an impressive splash.
When I surface, I brush the water from my lashes and look upto see that Dan has followed me down to the dock—and at quite a clip, if the way he’s breathing is any indication.
“You coming in?” I call from the inky blackness of the water.
For a moment I think he won’t. For a moment I think he won’t even say anything. For a moment I worry I’ve gone too far, that he might leave.
But then he grins and reaches for the buttons on his shirt, his strong fingers making quick work of them. He shrugs the shirt off onto the dock, and for the first time, I can see all his tattoos. Every last one.
Glowing in the moonlight, the ink Dan hides beneath his shirt swirls and cuts across his skin. There’s a cardinal and a sunset and an abacus. There’s a rose with thorns and a hammer and nails and a tiny string of numbers just over his heart. There are designs that wrap around his ribs that I can’t quite make out, and there are leaves and vines and flowers winding between them all. His chest, his shoulders, his arms, all marked.
He waits for me to finish perusing his art, but when my eyes drift down to the waistband of his shorts, a fleur-de-lis curving over the waistband, he reaches for the button. He flicks it with his fingers, working the zipper down until the slutty little shorts drop to the dock, leaving him standing there in a pair of black boxer briefs.
I swallow.
He hooks his thumb into the waistband.
I suck in a breath, can practically feel my pupils dilate.
He tugs them to his hip bones.
And I disappear beneath the water.
CHAPTER 23
