Page 65 of Dance with Me
He walked over to hand it to her and nearly swallowed his tongue when she pulled her thin white t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside on the chair. He didn’t say a word when she reached behind her and unclipped the lacy bra, releasing her soft, round breasts with their dark, puckered points, or when she dropped her hands and undid the button and zipper of her denim shorts and slid them—and her panties—down her long, shapely legs.
He couldn’t. He was speechless. Here she was, stripping off her clothes in his backyard in the middle of the day, like it was no big deal.
Thank god he had high fences and foliage, so the neighbors couldn’t see.
She gave him an expectant look and held out her hand. “Well?”
He swallowed hard. “Well what?”
“The sunscreen?”
“Oh. Right.” He handed her the spray. She used it all over her body, spraying first, then rubbing it into her skin with brisk strokes of her palms. When she got to her ankle, she propped it on the lounger and unwrapped it, using more care as she smoothed the sunscreen over her right foot and leg. The bruising had lightened to a greenish-yellow, and barely showed against her tawny skin.
When she sat up again, she met his eyes and shrugged. “Tan lines.” Then she flipped over onto her stomach, giving him a great view of her tight ass, and stretched out on the lounge chair. Raising her eyebrows, she held the spray can out to him.
“Do my back?”
The innocent tone wasn’t fooling him.
“Goddamn tease,” he growled, snatching the sunscreen away from her and swatting her butt. When she laughed, he sprayed it all over her back and ass and rubbed it in vigorously. “For the record, I know what you’re trying to do.”
“Do you?” She sat up to twist her hair into a knot, looking for all the world like a goddess or a nymph about to bathe in a secret, sacred lake. She was all lithe, lean limbs and graceful movements. Her eyes, when her gaze flicked over to him, held the secrets of the Universe, and the smirk playing on her wide mouth urged him to drop to his knees in worship.
“Uh, yes. I do.” What had he been saying? Oh, right. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“I’m not. Well, maybe a little.” She picked up one crutch and used it to get to her feet. They were standing a few inches apart, and he was wearing sweats, which did nothing to hide his erection. She glanced down, then patted his cheek. “Just trying to make an uncomfortable conversation a little more fun.”
He sighed. “I can’t let you use the crutches near the pool. It isn’t safe. Hold on.”
Moving quickly, he tossed aside his fitted cap—Mets, of course—and stripped out of his clothes. When he was naked, he reached for her, but she held up the can of sunscreen.
“Safety first.” She sent him a smile full of heat.
Growling a string of his favorite Russian curses, he sprayed his body and threw the can onto the chair. He had a condom in his wallet, but he’d climb out of the pool to get it if it came to that. “That’s enough. I need to cool down.”
She eyed his cock appreciatively and then had the nerve—the nerve—to lick her lips. “I see.”
He scooped her up, their sunscreen-covered bodies sliding against each other, hot and slick. “Woman, if it weren’t for your ankle, I’d toss you right into the deep end.”
She locked her arms around his neck, pressing her luscious breasts against him in the process. “Don’t you dare. I just straightened my hair this morning.”
He knew, because he’d watched her do it. She’d sat on the stepladder in his bathroom with no fewer than three heating devices and a collection of bottles, converting her mane of long dark spirals into a smooth fall of waves.
When she was done, he’d run his fingers over it and said, “You’re always beautiful, but I like your real hair.” In the mirror, her reflection had grinned and her face flushed at the compliment.
He carried her over to the pool and carefully navigated the steps into the shallow end. She sucked in a breath when her ass hit the water first, then sighed when her body was submerged.
“Feels good,” she murmured.
He tightened his arms around her. “Yeah.”
Rolling her eyes, she pushed off from his shoulders and swam a few feet away, leaving him hard and aching in water up to his chest.
“Careful with your ankle,” he said, as she frolicked and slid through the water like a mermaid, her body a dark, lean column against the blue, and the light from the sun sparkling on her wet skin.
Instead of following her, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock in a tight grip.
She swam back and forth, long arms cutting through the water in a modified breaststroke, then stopped when she saw him. “Are you jerking off over there?”
