Just because he figured she tasted like sunshine didn’t mean he was going to go licking her to find out.
Once at Casa Bonita, he’d wondered what the enchiladas tasted like on Kellan’s plate. Nope, didn’t taste those, just let his mind wonder and moved on.
“Forgot how to swim?” Rachel asked, still treading water.
“I can swim,” he called.
“Then you’re just a scaredy-cat.” She laughed, floating on her back, and her boobs were so right there, two mounds above the water, and he was really wishing she would go back to the treading water thing.
“My mama terrifies me.”
Then Rachel, serious as all hell Rachel, did the one thing he did not expect.
Rachel meowed.
He couldn’t let that stand. He was not a scaredy-cat. What was he telling his mama about limits and how he didn’t like abiding by them?
Rachel laughed like he’d never heard her laugh before. “Your face. You should see your face.”
He wanted her to laugh like that. Laugh lines, not frown lines, should find their way into her expressions.
“Get out of the way,” he instructed, waving her aside. She did as he asked, doing a side-swim to the north.
“I jump in this lake and you promise to seriously reconsider letting Brady fly.” Hell, might as well negotiate with her when he could.
As she moved aside, he was already unhooking his belt and pulling down his jeans.
“No.” She shook her head.
The black boxers he was wearing had to count as swimming trunks of some variety. He yanked his shirt over his head and cannonballed into the lake.
It. Was. Fucking. Cold.
He pushed himself up to the surface, sputtering and cussing at the cold.
“You didn’t say it was f-f-freezing.”
She lifted a shoulder and splashed him. “Meow.”
She moved to splash him again, and he caught her wrist in his hand before she could complete the motion. A zing of something that felt like a live electrical wire moved through him when their skin connected.
Suddenly, the lake wasn’t really that cold anymore.
Neither of them said anything, and she wasn’t laughing anymore. They clearly weren’t thinking of cats or airplanes. They were both there, in a lake, and he was holding her… wrist.
Without thinking further, he treaded through the foot of water separating them until there were only a few inches between them. He slid his hand along the inside of her wrist up to her palm until their hands met and he linked their fingers together.
Her mouth parted.
He was hard in spite of the chill of the lake. And he didn’t fucking care.
He stroked the fleshy part of her palm with his thumb. “Do you want to meow at me again?”
She shook her head. It was subtle, but there. “I’m good.” He grinned.
“Glad we settled that.”
Rachel’s free hand skimmed along his side, pulling him closer to her. Any closer and she’d feel… Her eyes went wide.
