“That’s me. Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, please.”
Libby tried to do a sexy saunter, but it was more of a determined wade until her foot slipped. Jefferson caught her by the waist before she went under. She grabbed his shoulders as he pulled her onto his lap. His hands slid below the surface, guiding her legs around his hips.
If she’d thought touching Jefferson’s hand was a lot, straddling him was a different order of intensity. It took several breaths to process the closeness. Like finding out she’d won a million dollars and trying to compute the magnitude. How many twenties was that? Because right now, she and Jefferson were lined up thigh-to-thigh. Libby had the irrational thought that their legs were hugging.
Her eyes drifted shut as his head dipped, lips pressing against the hollow of her throat. When she opened them again, he was watching her. She leaned forward until her mouth touched his.
Finally.Her lips parted on a sigh, breathing him in. A slow, soft kiss turned into something hotter. Jefferson’s tongue met hers, the grip of his hands turning urgent. She slid forward on his lap, wanting to get closer.
Some endless but also much-too-short span of time later, he pulled back. “Nice to meet you. What did you say your name was?”
“Libby.” No trace of Lillibet tonight.
He cupped her cheek with one hand. “I’m not seeing anyone, Libby. In case you were wondering.”
“I’m not married.” It felt like diving off the cliff at Waimea Bay, almost totally telling him the truth.
“Glad to hear it.”
“I’ve also never gotten into a complicated situation I later regretted.” If it was time for wishful thinking, Libby might as well go all the way.
He traced the curve of her bottom lip with his thumb. “I can honestly say I don’t regret anything right now.”
That was enough of a green light for her. Permission to live in the moment. It was like going from a dark room into the midday sun.We do this now.Touching was on the table. Staring, too. After days of trying to keep her distance—at least physically—the sheer sense of possibility short-circuited Libby’s brain. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, molding the muscle with her palms the way she’d seen Keoki do with a ball of dough.
His hands were doing their own wandering. A light, caressing pressure settled first on her legs, fingertips skimming slowly up the outside of her thighs. When he reached her waist, he tested the sloping curve above her hips, the merest hint of a squeeze as he tried different placements, looking for the best grip. He wasn’t racing to get to the obvious destinations, pumping her ass like a stress ball. Some guys treated a woman’s body like a ticking bomb, scrambling to cut the right wire before the countdown clock hit zero. Jefferson operated like he had all the time in the world and was going to take it.
She held her breath as his fingertips trailed across the softness of her stomach until his thumb was pressed against her belly button. Libby got the sense he was making a tactile record, charting the space her body occupied, in case he needed to find her in the dark.This is Libby,he would say.I recognize this inch of skin at the bottom of her rib cage.
He was so focused on her, with his eyes and his hands. Libby relaxed into his touch, half hypnotized despite the hummingbird beat of her heart as his other hand traveled over her lower back, continuing his slow survey. Had anyone ever paid this much attention to her before? In the past, she’d felt like physical parts first and a person second. This was the opposite of that. She knew Jefferson wasn’t comparing her to an airbrushed image.The look in his eyes said he wanted to touchherbecause she was Libby, and he wanted to know everything about her.
“I can’t believe you’re real.” His voice was even gruffer than usual, scraping Libby’s nerve endings.
“Same. About you, I mean.” But it was also true that Libby had never felt more anchored in her body, fully inhabiting every inch of her skin. That had to be what mattered, more than the fine print about her life.
Their eyes met as his hand slipped lower, cupping her hip. He shifted sideways, adjusting her position on his lap. His thumb traced the elastic of her bikini. She was sure he could hear the catch in her breath.
Are we going to have sex? Right now? In this hot tub?The wondering was a cricket chirp, barely audible over the typhoon of lust. Jefferson’s fingers tangled in the ties of her bikini top. The knuckles of his other hand dragged along the underside of her jaw, then across her collarbone, before sliding between her breasts. He paused there, one finger skimming the string linking the thin triangles of her top before sliding beneath the fabric. The pleasure hit her bloodstream like a shot of tequila, making her dizzy.
“I like you,” she blurted, managing to be a huge dork and totally inadequate at the same time.
Jefferson’s eyes lit as if she’d written him a love song. “I like you, too.”
She kissed his smiling mouth, wrapping herself around him to keep from floating away from sheer happiness. It was a perfect moment. Libby had never felt anything close to this—
Her sudden hiss of pain startled them both.
“Sorry,” he said at once, pulling back.
“No, it’s okay. Just a pinch. Your hand…”
He lifted the fingers resting at the top of her thigh. Libby shook her head. “The other one. On my neck. I think some of my hair got caught in the straps.”
As she followed the direction of Jefferson’s gaze to where his right hand cupped her breast, his thumb applying the exact right amount of pressure, Libby realized something didn’t add up. Specifically, the number of Jefferson’s hands.
“What the heck?” she said at the same time he reached behind her.
