Page 80 of Blitzing Emily

“Of course not.”

He half-rolled toward her, stretching across the blanket and moving closer. Initially she scuttled away, but she stopped at the edge of the blanket. She wasn’t frightened of the water. From the way her arms wrapped around her midsection, trying to fold herself in half, she was a lot more afraid of being seen naked in the great outdoors than anything else.

A naked Emily was now number one on his “to-do” list, and he was going to talk her into it. All she needed was some gentle persuasion. Luckily, he excelled at talking shy women out of their clothing.

“Let’s go wading,” he coaxed.

“I don’t trust you.” She wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Oh, you shouldn’t,” he agreed, and reached out to pull off her boots and her socks. “You’re alone with me, and it’s the middle of the week. There’s nobody else for miles, and I have an agenda.”

She tried to brush his hands away, but he tickled the bottom of her foot. She mumbled, “I don’t know about this.”

He stripped off his own hiking boots, socks, t-shirt and shorts. They landed in a pile. The sun felt great on his skin, and he crawled over, sprawling out next to her.

Her voice trembled. “What are you doing?”

She was looking everywhere else but at him, and she blushed even harder, if it was possible. He’d never seen this side of Emily before. He couldn’t believe his bossy little diva was so shy about the whole thing.

“No one’s going to see us,” he reassured. He stroked her cheek with one fingertip. She opened her mouth, shut it, and opened it again.

“We don’t need to take our clothes off to go wading—”

“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “This is not a great idea.” Her voice was muffled as he tugged her t-shirt over her head, and unzipped her shorts. “We’re in public. You’re taking my clothes off. Maybe this is an experience I don’t need to have.”

“It’ll be fun. Getting naked is always fun.”

She let out a groan, which made him laugh again. He unhooked her bra, slid it off, and pulled her panties down her legs. She looked like she wanted to argue with him some more, but she shut her mouth just as quickly. She lay on her side facing him, crossed her arms over her abdomen and her legs at the ankle, and reluctantly met his eyes.

“It’s warmer out here than I thought.” She sounded surprised. Her face was still flushed, but the rest of her—God, the rest of her ...

He looked at her, and then he stared. He hadn’t seen much last night, but right now he was seeing it all. His eyes traveled over her with glacial slowness, from toenails painted candy-apple red, up pale thighs she probably thought were too large, and over parts of her that never saw the sun. He reached out to brush her arms away.

“Let me see,” he breathed. She lowered her eyelids under his scrutiny, and he saw her eyes fix on the bulge in his shorts.

She was going to short out if this kept up. She colored. She stammered. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

He looped a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You look like one of those paintings I saw in Art History class,” he said. Emily was Christmas morning, and the presents were all for him. “You’re beautiful, sugar. You’re all lushness and curves. I can’t wait to touch you.” He watched her lips move into a smile, and reached out to tickle her.

BRANDON LOOKED LIKEa sun-kissed version of Michelangelo’s David, with better abs. Even though her fiancé still wore his boxer briefs, David suffered in comparison. Emily reached out to lay her palm on the mother of all six-packs. His skin was warm and his abdomen rock-hard; the hair curled around her fingers as she slowly drew them over the rippling muscles.

She was rapidly losing whatever resistance she’d mustered up.

“Come on, sugar.” He pulled off his boxer briefs, dropped them on the pile of clothing, and held out his hand. “Try it,” he coaxed. She struggled to her feet. He scooped her up in his arms and waded out into the water.

Emily crossed her legs and pulled herself up against him, hoping to stay dry. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Of course not,” he said, but his teeth were chattering. “It’ll be okay in a minute.”

He waded out until the water was above his waist and glanced down at Emily. She grabbed for herself. “You’re looking at my boobs. Quit it.”

“Make me.” He pulled Emily closer and kissed her.

One of her feet slipped and dangled in the freezing water, but she didn’t care. She forgot she was naked. She forgot she was in a public place. She forgot everything but his lips and his tongue and the way he tasted.

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