Page 41 of Love to Hate You

“Let’s just say that we have a deadline to reach as per my father’s demand, and Randy is acting like we’re kids again playing Monopoly. Not that he knows the real stakes, again as per my father’s demands.”

She used his feet to scooch closer and his ankles relocked around her ribs. Her very naked ribs. “That sounds lonely and stressful.”

All this time she’d only been thinking about her business needs. Never once had she considered that he might be in a similar situation, to save his family’s company. Or that her antics were making his life impossible. From holding a town hall meeting to stop construction of his shop, to supergluing his front door to his building shut, she’d pulled out all the stops. In comparison, his retaliation had been warranted.

Whoa, wait!How had he gone from villain to valiant in a single conversation? While she wanted to understand where he was coming from, really get to know him on a deeper level, that would be a bad decision. She was already softening on him, and she didn’t need positive feelings floating between them.

“Don’t you worry about me, love. There isn’t much I can’t handle.”

But why should he be forced to handle it alone? She couldn’t imagine navigating life without the support of her family. She shouldn’t be moved by this confession; it pulled her into dangerous waters. But the intimate setting of them, all alone, the night surrounding them, creating a safe and private exchange of secrets for only the two of them to witness. It made everything feel real.

No longer were they stuck in the tit-for-tat war that was safe and familiar, a protective wall between them and their attraction for each other. His confession had broken down that wall, at least low enough for her to see over it to the man he hid from the world. A sad and lonely man who didn’t have it in him to trust or love. Something she needed to remember if she were to keep her heart safe. Which was the only reason she could come up with for what she did next.

She raised her hand out of the water. “Can you help me out?”

His eyes heated because he knew that she was almost naked under the surface. “As you wish.”

The moment they grabbed each other’s hand, Summer tugged—hard. Caught off guard, Wes went splashing into the water headfirst, leaving a ginormous wave in his path that engulfed Summer right along with him. She swam to the surface, but something—or someone—grabbed her leg and yanked her to the side. She tried to swim away but it was no use, he was bigger and stronger. When she finally crested the surface she was laughing and choking.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked with a big and beautiful smile on his face.

“I know I’m funny.” She cupped her hands and forced a giant splash in his direction, plastering his hair to his head and causing him to cough up water. He returned the favor by grabbing her waist and pulling her toward him and then back under.

She put her feet on his egg-crate abs and launched herself off like he was the pool wall. She made it less than an arm’s length before he caught her ankle and pulled her back to him. He was so strong that she crashed into his body, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, their legs tangling as they struggled to stay afloat.

Then they just stopped kicking and began to float under the water. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her so intensely that some air bubbles escaped from her lips.

Neither moved as they sank deeper, interwoven like a pile of fishing lines. His hand went possessive around her waist and pulled her into his body, then he rested his forehead to hers.

They remained like that, arms around each other, bodies pressed together, foreheads touching, eyes locked. Even though they were both running short on air, neither of them made for the top—instead sinking until they touched the river bottom. The sand slid through her toes, his hand slid further around her waist. Intimate but not crossing that threshold. She wrapped her legs around him as he sat on the river bottom, with her straddling him.

Then it happened. The one thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do—she kissed him. It was gentle, almost asking for permission. Then he was kissing her like he’d known this would happen and he’d just been waiting.

His lips cradled hers over, slow and thorough. He tasted salty and dangerous. He felt even better. His body was hard and muscular. And speaking of hard, his erection pressed from the V between her legs all the way to her belly button. His hands, oh his magical hands, were rubbing ever so slowly down her spine, his thumbs pressing deep into the tissue as he went.

She wasn’t sure where he was going to stop, but he moved purposefully over the slope of her lower back and down her ass, his thumbs traveling under the lace of her thong, tracing the crease of her backside.

She moaned into his mouth as he palmed a cheek in each hand and yanked her against his hard-on. She locked her ankles behind his back to keep the delicious friction between them.

One minute in his arms and she was reaching orgasmic levels.

That’s how she sat until the oxygen ran out and her lungs were burning for release—and that wasn’t the only part of her burning for release. She was so lost in him that she didn’t realize he’d pushed off the ground until they breached the surface like a submarine after months of being kept in the dark.

Instinctively, they both gasped for air.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice sex-hazed.

“You kissing me.”

“You kissed me back,” she argued.

He cupped her cheek. “I was giving you the perfect meet-cute.”

“So that was a pity kiss?” Her tone was sharp.

“Pity kiss?” he asked on a laugh. “Love, I’ve been thinking about you nonstop for months. What you’d feel like, taste like. How it would be to have you moan into my mouth. That was no fucking pity kiss. That was months of built-up sexual tension.”

“It’s building by the moment,” she whispered, locking her arms behind his neck. “I’m sorry about your suit.”

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