Page 58 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
“Idefinitelywouldn’t have been offended. Surprised, maybe. You’ve got a good poker face. I had no idea you were interested.”
“Interested? Try obsessed. I watched more episodes ofJust Jadethan any straight man should ever admit to.”
I giggled. “Your secret is safe with me. Seriously, though. I was trying everything I could think of tomakeyou notice me. If you wanted me, you did an amazing job hiding it.”
“There’s noifabout it.” Wilder pulled me tightly against him, letting me feel the evidence of his desire. “Ididwant you. I do.”
He kissed me, and I drifted with him, not caring where the tide took us. Clinging to his long, powerful body, I knew I couldn’t be safer physically.
Emotionally, I was in deep. My heart would never be the same after this night.
There was no one in the world like Wilder Lowe—there never had been and never would be.
“Do you trust me?” he asked between kisses.
I nodded. “I do. With my life.”
After another brief kiss, he said, “Good. I want to try something. Ever floated on your back?”
“Oh, I don’t float,” I assured him. “I sink. Like a big old rock.”
He laughed. “Everyone can float—little kids, grandmas—even sexy singers who think they can’t. You don’t have a ton of body fat, so it won’t be as easy for you as it is for some people, but you can do it.”
“Why? I don’t want a swim lesson right now,” I whined. Then I plastered myself to him and kissed him again, trying to distract him from whatever it was he had in mind.
Wilder wasn’t dissuaded. Gently, he pushed me away from him until I was treading water on my own.
“Try it for me, okay? There’ll be a reward in it for you.”
For a moment I just stared at him. I didnotwant to do this. But I also didn’t want to disappoint him. It seemed to be important to him for some reason.
“Fine. But if I wind up with a belly full of saltwater, you’re the one who’s going to have to hold my hair back all night long.”
“Duly noted,” he said with a grin. “Okay lean your head back and use the water as a pillow. Get a deep breath. Now arch your back to bring your lungs to the surface.”
I followed his instructions and did actually manage to get at least the top half of my body to stay near the top of the water.
“Like this?”
Wilder stood near me, not touching me but watching closely. “Yes. You’re doing great. Now drive your hips and belly button up toward the sky. Raise your arms over your head.”
I did as he said but suddenly became self-conscious about my lack of swimwear. That raised chest and pelvis? They were fully exposed to the moonlight, and it was a bright night. I darted my eyes over at Wilder.
“Don’t look at me, hummingbird—keep your head back and your eyes up on the stars,” he commanded. “Now stretch your arms to the sides, palms facing up to the sky. And spread your legs like a starfish. Good.”
He moved from my side to a point in front of me, positioning himself between my widespread legs.
“What are you doing?” I asked, starting to lift my head.
“Don’t lift your head, sweetheart. You’ll sink. Just trust me. Relax—tensing your muscles makes you go heavy. Just keep looking up and imagine yourself being light as a feather.”
I obeyed and focused on the night sky, on the sound of the water gently lapping my ears and cheeks.
“Okay, you got it? You good?” Wilder asked.
“Yes, I’m good,” I answered. And it was true. I felt entirely relaxed, weightless, and safe.
It was a novel thing to realize there was nowhere else in the world I would rather be—and no one else I’d rather be with.
