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She was full again. No emptiness, no longing.
Trailing kisses down his neck, she started unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s go for a swim.”
“A swim? You just swam across the lake.”
His hands roamed up and down her back, creating a swirling and wondrous storm inside her. An energy she only felt when he touched her formed, and she wanted to experience it all the way to a thunderous end. “Not just swimming,” she whispered against his neck. “Skinny-dipping.”
“Skinny-dipping?”
She stepped back to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his pants. “Yes. You have heard of skinny-dipping, haven’t you?”
“I’ve heard of it, all right,” he said, grabbing the hem of her dress.
Twyla lifted her arms, aiding in the swiftness of the green material’s departure from her body. As Forrest dropped the dress, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, running her hands over his fascinating bare skin. She kissed the center of his chest, where a cluster of hair tickled her nose.
Laughing, and more delighted than a robin in spring, she stepped back. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!” Swiftly, she pulled off her camisole, stepped out of her tap pants and ran toward the water.
“Hey, hold up!” he shouted. “I have on more clothes than you.”
A glance over her shoulder showed him struggling with his britches, and she laughed, loving how the sound echoed over the water. She ran until the water was deep enough and then arched her arms over her head to dive in.
The water here was crystal clear. The sandy bottom whizzed past and sunfish darted out of her way as Twyla glided forward, arms at her sides and paddling her feet leisurely. She didn’t see him, but sensed Forrest’s arrival and held out one hand, which he clasped. Together, as one, they swam forward a measurable distance before a silent, mutual consent made them surface at the same time.
He kissed her, and Twyla knew she’d never tire of it. She wrapped her arms around him, and then her legs. The awareness of his flesh merging with hers caused such pleasure, a gravelly moan rumbled inside her throat. They sank beneath the water, and the lack of air finally forced them to separate in order to swim back up to the surface.
Forrest grabbed her waist and gave her a playful shove back toward the beach. She swam a few strokes, and then went under. After a few strokes, she flipped around to swim behind him, where she jumped on his back.
They sank again, and came up kissing and laughing. They dunked each other, kissed and frolicked in the water until they were almost back to shore. Forrest was ahead of her and dropped his legs to stand in the water that was chest-high. Twyla swam right into his arms, and, knowing they wouldn’t sink this time, she once again wrapped her legs and arms around him.
“I haven’t gone swimming in years,” she said. He held her with both arms, so she used her hands to wipe the water off her face and comb back her hair, and then his.
“Why not? You live on the lake.”
“Because you weren’t here,” she said. “Nothing was fun without you.”
It seemed so natural, and so easy, for her to rub the tips of her breasts against his chest. The connection caused the muscles down low in her body to flex and quiver, and a hungry need inside her tripled.
Forrest lifted her higher, until her thighs were around his waist, her center flush against his stomach, and her breasts no longer beneath the water. He kissed her shoulder first, then her collarbone.
A craving, as unique and wild as she’d ever known, had her leaning back just enough so that her nipple brushed his chin. The simple contact was so spectacular tiny shivers of delight spread over her.
He kissed her nipple and licked it, leaving Twyla too enthralled to speak—or think. But she was anxious, so very anxious, for more. And Forrest provided more, just as she’d known he would.
Twirling his tongue around her nipple, he closed his mouth and sucked. The pleasure was so grand, if he hadn’t been holding her she’d have sunk beneath the water and probably drowned. For she certainly wouldn’t have wanted him to stop. Not even in order to breathe.
“Goodness, Forrest,” she said, almost whimpering. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.” She dug her hands into his hair, holding him where he was as her leg muscles tightened around him and her center throbbed.
Forrest released that nipple, but only because he turned slightly to lick the other one. “But I don’t want this one to get jealous,” he said.
“You’re right,” she said, arching against his mouth. “You must be fair.”
He provided the same pleasure to that nipple, and the other one again, and that one again in turn, until Twyla was in such a state of frenzy she lost track of whose turn it was. She was burning with an agonizing yet pleasurable tension she couldn’t describe.
