All the reasons they shouldn’t be together suddenly seemed trivial. He was about to be her boss and he’d been total playboy, but right then she didn’t mind any of that.
“I’ll bring one next time,” he said on a low rumble.
“Bring what?” she asked, unable to concentrate on anything other than the water droplets on his damp lips. Lips that parted close to hers.
Less than a centimeter of space and she could kiss him again.
His eyes glazed over. “A map.”
Before she could say anything else, he kissed her. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she moaned. She slipped her hand into his hair and opened for him. The crackling ozone outside had nothing on the two of them.
His fingertips grazed the edge of her thigh, sending goose pebbles all along her skin. As soon as his mouth met hers she went from chilled to the core to heated beyond comfort.
A groan slid from deep in her throat. Or his. Who could really tell at that point?
Had she ever been this turned on by a kiss? No, definitely not. Given the state of his…twitching rod…he was equally affected.
His lips moved against hers. Pressed harder. His tongue invaded her mouth.
For the first time she got it.Itbeing that thing people always talked about as chemistry.
Sure, she’d dated. Even invited a few guys into her bed. But she’d never experienced anything like this.
So, they weren’t going to be friends. Okay. The intensity of his kiss made up for any annoyance of her failed friendship plan. The weight she’d carried all day disappeared as her body reacted to his touch.
He leaned back, barely breaking the kiss, their mouths only millimeters away from each other. His eyes flared with desire.
They were so, totally, not going to be friends.
Her hands bunched against his wet collar, yanking it impatiently to bring him back to her mouth.
All reason vanished from her synapses when his hands traveled under her shirt along her slick skin to the edge of her bra. He tugged the cloth down, the pad of his thumb brushing across her nipple.
She moaned again. Absolutely, couldn’t help it. The storm outside raged.
The door to the shack smacked open and a man, not William, cleared his throat.
Holy hell.
William stilled. Lucy pulled away.
His hand slid from under her shirt, and he turned quickly. Two men wearing raincoats with the Twin Lakes logo stood at the threshold holding fishing gear.
“This is a first,” the shorter man said, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn’ta thought to use a pile of lifejackets for that.”
Chapter Seventeen
The men went off to the corner of the shack and the thrum of rain on the metal roof lightened. William reached for Lucy’s hand and hauled her beside him, tucking his arm around her shoulders.
“So, that happened,” she said under her breath. Her expression had gone distant, but he’d remedy that as soon as they got back to the cabin.
“Yeah, it happened.” He leaned to her and kissed her neck, intentionally rubbing his stubble on the soft spot beneath her ear.
She shivered.
The rain finally stopped, and he snagged the backpack.
“Ready?” he asked.
