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My hand paused briefly in its journey down her cheek, the statement catching me off guard. She was watching me closely as though waiting for my reaction. When I met her stare without flinching, she released a breath, shook her head, and lowered her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m a little nervous out here.”
“Don’t be. I’m not going to let you go.”
Her shoulders dropped and she relaxed completely in my arms, her body becoming pliant. She trusts me. It felt like a deep and sacred honor. Amazing. Undeserved even when trust was part of my daily life. This town trusted me. But Haven’s trust was different altogether. For a few moments we were quiet, her breath evening, my arms holding her steadily as we both looked toward the setting sun. The world felt beautiful and peaceful. All the worries, all the questions with no answers, all the complications, and the potential pain of the world, none of it existed in this watery refuge under the dipping sun with this beautiful girl in my arms. Nothing could touch us out here. It was only us.
This time the kiss began slowly, Haven’s eyes meeting mine, our mouths touching gently, the barest brush of our lips. It wasn’t clear who’d initiated it, maybe me, maybe her. But it seemed more likely that we’d both moved together simultaneously. For long moments I gloried in the feel of her body against mine, the cool undulations of the current drawing her away and then pressing her near. It was breathless, and it was sweet. I felt a shift. Me. The world. The order of things I could not name, or maybe had misunderstood in the first place. Assumptions long held all suddenly proven wrong.
I drew in a shuddery breath as I moved my tongue languidly over the seam of her lips and she opened for me. The kiss went deeper, yet the pace remained the same. Leisurely. Dreamy. As though to rush things would dishonor this moment.
The kiss was as natural as the lift and fall of the water around us, as essential as the sky above, as searing as the fiery sun.
Our tongues tangled, danced, parried slowly, her mouth angled over mine so that I could taste every inch of her sweetness.
Our breath mingled, and Haven brought her hands from around my neck, holding my face as her legs circled my waist. I gasped out a ragged moan as her core pressed against my erection and for a moment, I thought I might come in my shorts like a teenage boy feeling a female body for the very first time. She fit so perfectly against me. I used one arm to hold her steadily around the waist, and the other dipped, first to the round curve of her ass, down to the silky smoothness of the back of her thigh, pulling her closer yet, torturing myself.
“What are we doing, Travis?” she breathed, slowing the kiss once more, her lips trailing over mine, her hands weaving into my hair, even as she drew her body away from mine so very slightly.
I don’t know. I have no idea. “Enjoying ourselves,” I murmured, trailing my lips down her throat as she leaned her head back to give me better access. I darted my tongue out, licking the spot where her pulse fluttered under my mouth. I felt an odd feeling just under the intense arousal, and I could only call it fear. But of what? I knew how to do this. I was an expert at this.
“Why?” She raked her fingernails through my hair and I moaned again at the pure pleasure assaulting every part of me. But I also heard the barest hint of panic in her tone as though her mind was searching for reasons to resist, even if her body was not. Why what? I’d lost the thread of the conversation, and I had to force myself back the same way I sometimes pulled myself from sleep when an emergency call came through in the middle of the night.
When had I ever wanted to be lost like this? When had I wanted to lose control?
“Because it feels nice,” I answered. It felt better than nice. It felt amazing. Incredibly erotic. Right.
“That’s all?” She drew back slightly and looked me in the eyes, searching, giving me a moment to get control of the runaway lust pumping through my veins. Was she looking for a reason to stop? A justification to continue?
“Of course,” I answered. “You have . . . feelings for Gage, remember?”
Her gaze went a little hazy. “Right,” she said. “Oh. Yes. I do. I’d like to . . . keep myself available just in case.”
Available. The words felt wrong, as if the ones we were using were conveying something different entirely.
“Just in case,” I repeated, leaning back in and running my nose along her jaw, inhaling the sun-drenched scent of her skin.
