Page 61 of The Sweetest Mistake

“Do you want to drive, or do you want me to?” Julia asked. She’d grabbed the boat key off the hook hanging by the back door on their way out.

“We could take turns,” he suggested.

“Okay. I’ll start,” Julia said, thinking it would give her something to do other than thinking about what she really wanted to do—him!

Connor hopped into the boat first and then gave her a hand in before settling into the seat beside the driver’s seat.

Getting behind the wheel, Julia turned the key, and the boat started right up. A few minutes later, they had reached the middle of the lake, and a sense of calm fell over her. The wind blew her hair back, and the waves lapped against the boat, creating a gentle rocking motion. She peeked over at Connor and saw that he looked as relaxed as she was. His head was tipped back against the seat, his long legs were stretched out before him, and his mouth was curled up in a satisfied smile.

He hadn’t looked this peaceful since Cam had come back into his life, and Julia was glad that she was there to share it with him.

After a few spins around the lake, Julia pulled into a cove and shut off the engine.

“Is it my turn to drive already?” he asked.

“I thought we could just hang out here for a while.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

Connor moved to the back of the boat and leaned over the side to trail his fingertips in the water while she removed her cover-up. When he stood back up and turned around, his eyes went wide.

She’d found some sunscreen in a compartment in the boat and was rubbing it into her skin when she felt his eyes upon her.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teased, borrowing his phrase from earlier.

“I’ve never seen you in a bathing suit before,” he countered, stalking toward her.

Oh boy. There was nowhere to hide from him now. She couldn’t even back up for fear of falling overboard.

“Connor…”

“Yeah?” He’d stopped right in front of her, and now he was caressing the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder.

“We’re not doing this here,” she said, her voice not sounding as firm as she’d wanted it to.

“Your nipples say otherwise.”

Glancing down, she saw the evidence for herself. Her nipples were standing at attention, their outline pronounced beneath the thin material of her bikini.

“They’re not thinking clearly,” she said and was met with his hearty laughter.

“Just one touch,” he said, begging her with his eyes.

“Somebody could see.” But her back was to the shoreline in a spot that was sheltered by tall trees, and he was blocking her front with his broad chest.

“Nobody’s looking.”

He was right. There were plenty of boats on the water, but none were near enough to see them clearly.

“Just one touch,” she said, finally giving in.

She assumed he would touch her on the outside of the swimsuit, which was why she gasped when he pulled the material aside and swiped his thumb over her right nipple.

It felt like there was an invisible line from her nipple to her core, and all her nerve endings stood up and rejoiced at his touch.

He added his index finger to the mix and was gently plucking her nipple while studying her reaction at the same time.

“You said one touch,” she said, her voice quivering.