Page 92 of Ruthless Game

He squeezed tighter. “The only ‘How about this’ I want to hear is ‘How about we turn around and go back inside so you can give me more orgasms, Max.’”

I laughed, lifting our hands to press kisses to each of his knuckles. “The ‘How about this’ was that I go in, first, and figure out where the shallow spots are, so you know you’ll be able to stand.”

Reluctantly, he released me. “I’m only letting you go because I know you’re a good swimmer. Don’t go too far.”

I pursed my lips, trying to hide how much I liked his overbearing concern. Stripping down to nothing, I could feel him staring at the swell of my ass as I ran into the water. The late fall air had grown chilly, and I imagined the water was going to be even colder.

I was right. Cold shocked my feet, my calves as I waded in until it was deep enough for me to submerge fully, the cold cleansing me of whatever deep-seated worries I still had about our relationship. We hadn’t talked about our fight. We hadn’t talked about the awful things he’d said to me.

Whore.

I dunked my head under water again to drown it out.

We’re both whores.

What would it take for him to believe me?

Pausing in my strokes, I felt around for the bottom of the pond. There was silt under my feet, and I could stand with my chest, shoulders, and head in the air—perfect positioning for helping him float on his back.

Noting the spot—about three feet out from a tree stump on the shoreline—I swam and then waded back to the beach, where Lawson stood, watching me intently.

“Come on, the water’s … well, it’s freezing, but come on anyway.”

He eyed me. “That doesn’t sound remotely appealing.”

Grabbing his hand, I tugged him toward the water. He took slow, measured steps, his hand once again squeezing mine so hard, I could feel the bones rubbing each other. I didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, just squeezed his back as best as I could as we walked into the water together.

“Jesus, fuck, you weren’t kidding about how cold it is.”

“It’s about to get colder,” I said, as the water got deeper. I was up to my waist now, Lawson to his thighs. Just a little deeper, and then I’d have to convince him to lie on his back and float. As we waded in further, I asked him, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he said, without even hesitating.

His words washed me in warmth, no matter how cold the water was.

Turning to him, I got on my tiptoes, wrapping my hands around his neck, and kissed him. Our lips were cold, and there was a bite of promise to the kiss, but that bite also had a sweetness.

Like hope was sharp around the edges but still tasted like candy.

Maybe like a yellow Starburst.

Cupping my cheeks in his big hands, he kissed me back, easy and slow, like he’d forgotten where we were. And even though a bird called to its mate in the trees, and the wind rustled branches and leaves on the shore, it was quiet, the only sound I noticed was our hearts beating in synch.

Finally, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine.

“Okay, I trust you. Tell me what’s next, Starburst?”

I didn’t bother to correct him. He could call me Starburst all he wanted, if he trusted me enough to get this far in the water.

He only ever got in the water after all because of me. Whether it was defending my honor or saving my life, or just doing what I wanted, it was because of me, and that knowledge broke down my walls, just a little.

Okay, or maybe a lot.

“Okay, now I want you to take a few more steps in where it’s deeper, and then bend your knees and lay back.”

He gazed at me like I’d lost my mind. “And drown?”

“No. And float. Come on, let me show you,” I said, flopping backward, splashing him a little as I landed on my back and floated, staring up at him.