Page 108 of Story of My Life
Hazel tossed the fenders over the side, and the boat bumped neatly against the dock.
“What do I do now?” she asked, holding up the line.
“Wrap it around the piling and hold it,” I said, clambering over the seat to join her.
She was standing on the seat, leaning precariously over the edge.
“Christ, don’t go overboard,” I said, reaching around her, and pulled her back against me with a hand at her belly. My body became instantly and painfully aware of every soft curve when our bodies collided.
Yes. This. Finally.
It was like my blood was whispering to me, to her, to the night itself as we froze like that in the moonlight. How long had it been since I’d had a woman in my arms? My mind raced through memories and timelines. I’d been casually seeing someone before Laura’s accident. I’d just as casually broken it off when I moved back. Had that really been the last time for me?
Time had marched on, and now I was standing here with a hard-on worthy of Mount Rushmore, praying the romance novelist inspiring it hadn’t noticed.
“Sooo what do I do now?” she asked tentatively, waving the end of the line.
“Right,” I said through gritted teeth. I took the line from her, wordlessly tying it off around the cleat with what little blood I had left in my brain.
The boat rolled beneath us, and Hazel overcompensated, shifting her balance. It was instinct that had me tightening my hold on her. And that instinct brought her shapely ass in direct contact with my erection. My thumb rested under her breasts as the rest of my palm splayed across her stomach, holding her in place.
She froze against me. I felt her sharp intake of breath, heard it over the lap of the water. Her heart beat rabbit-fast under my thumb. The gentlemanly thing would be to let her go, but I was worried she’d pitch right over the edge. And there was another not-so-gentlemanly part of me that just wanted to stand here like this for the rest of the night.
The breeze stirred her hair, kicking up the sexy scent of her shampoo that did absolutely nothing to calm my out-of-control libido.
It took every ounce of maturity and self-control in me to move my hands to her hips and put some space between our bodies. “Stay here,” I said gruffly before releasing her. I gathered up our trash and her shoes and purse and piled them all on the dock. I climbed out of the boat—not an easy feat with a throbbing erection—and offered Hazel my hand.
“Just step one foot on the edge and one foot on the dock,” I said as her fingers closed around mine.
She leaped nimbly onto the wooden planks next to me. I led her onto the wider part of the dock for safety’s sake. I should have let go of her hand. I should have stepped back to give her space. But there we were, face-to-face in the night air. Those dark whiskey eyes watching me through heavy lids.
This didn’t feel pretend. The need to kiss her, to touch her, was real. It was all I could think about as my head lowered toward hers on its own.
“I never had ‘everywhere but the bed’ sex,” she blurted out suddenly.
I drew back, gathering my wits. “I don’t think I know what that means.”
“You know, like you’re in a new relationship and everything is hot and sexy and you just want to be naked all the time, so you end up having sex everywhere but the bed?”
“Uh. Yeah, I guess so.” I had a few fond memories of “everywhere but the bed,” mostly from my younger years, but was having trouble thinking about anything other than the way Hazel’s mouth moved when she saidsex.
“I don’t know why I just said that,” she said, looking appalled. “I thought you were bad at dating, but clearly it’s me.”
“You’re not bad at dating. You’re…” How was I supposed to finish that sentence.Irresistible?Compelling?So attractive my body was reacting like a teenage boy’s?
“Hey, asshole!” someone barked in the night.
A definitiveoinksounded just as angry footsteps shook the dock.
Hazel’s eyes went round. I turned, positioning myself between her and the incoming threats. I blamed the lack of blood flow to my brain. And the pig in the green harness. In trying to avoid three hundred pounds of free-range swine trotting at me, I turned a little too close to Hazel, and instead of shoving her behind my body, I shoved her right off the dock.
“Goddammit, Rump Roast.”
“You idiot,” Levi called after me as I hit the water feetfirst, fear taking care of the hard-on problem. I found one of Hazel’s limbs and dragged us both upward.
“Oh my God,” she sputtered when our heads broke the surface.
“You okay?” I demanded, holding her above the water.
