“Ready?” he asks as he watches me intently. Again, in my mind, it seems he’s asking me about so much more.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
With a grin, he pulls back on the rope, steps up onto the bottom of the tire and pushes off. We swing way up into the air, enough for my stomach to drop, before Jake lets go.
Then we’re flying.
And I’m falling.
Down, down, down we go, and I hear Jake’s whoop just before cool water engulfs us. I can still feel the heat of his body and, even as our momentum slows and I begin to swim upward, Jake never loosens his hold.
We break the surface at the same time. Jake’s laughing as he shakes his head, sending droplets of water in every direction. When his eyes meet mine, they’re sparkling.
“Well?” he asks.
“That was awesome.” My heart is still hammering, although I’m not sure if it’s from the swing or from Jake’s legs tangling with mine. “Thank you for doing it with me.”
His smile turns wicked. “There are many, many things I’d like to do with you. I hope this was just the beginning.”
“There are?”
“Oh, I think you know there are.” I smile into his eyes as his arm tightens around my waist and he drags me slowly toward shallower water. He stops when his feet hit solid ground. Mine are still dangling freely. My head spins with purple drink. My stomach flutters with anticipation. My heart races with excitement. “Tell me to kiss you,” he commands in his gravelly voice.
Uptight Laney would pause to consider. And then politely decline. But today . . . right now . . . she’s not here.
I don’t give it a second thought. I want him to do it; I want him to kiss me. “Kiss me,” I whisper.
His lips twitch with satisfaction just before he lowers his head to mine.
The touch of Jake’s lips is familiar, yes. His lips are firm yet yielding, and, even after eating, he still tastes vaguely of cinnamon. But in all other ways, this kiss is different. There’s promise in it, the promise that this is where the ride starts, that this is where I have to take a deep breath and really jump into the unknown.
His mouth teases mine until it opens and he can slide his tongue inside. As it tangles with mine, stroking it, licking it, his hands skate down my back. He angles his head and deepens the kiss. I’m caught up in sensation as his palms cover my butt and then slide down the backs of my thighs to pull my legs around his waist.
With the intimate contact and no one to jerk on the reins, heat explodes between us. An urgency flourishes between us, making lips hungry and hands desperate. Suddenly, none of this feels too soon or too rushed or too dangerous. It feels just right.
Out of breath, Jake drags his mouth away from mine, trailing it to my ear, where he nips at the lobe. “I was thinking earlier about rubbing my hand over your wet panties, about what it would feel like to put my fingers inside you.” He groans. Chills shoot down my back and my ni**les tingle into tight points that beg for the brush of his chest against them. “You know I’m going to do that, right? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it will happen. You’ll be mine, Laney. Before all is said and done, you will be mine.”
With his words ringing in my head, he crushes his lips against mine again, threading the fingers of one hand into my wet hair as his other hand presses my hips against his.
It’s not until I hear a delighted squeal that I remember we aren’t alone.
Reluctantly, I pull my mouth away from his. My thoughts are foggy. I can’t think right with him touching me, kissing me, talking to me this way.
Dazedly, I look around, prepared to be mortified. But no one is paying us any attention. Jake had enough sense to pull us to the bend at the edge of the cove, practically hidden from the view of the others.
“Don’t worry. They can’t see.”
“I know, but still . . .”
I lean away. The spell is broken. This conversation, this moment deserves privacy. Of course, privacy could mean that we’d get carried away. And I’m not sure yet just how far it’s safe for me to let Jake carry me. I’d thought there was no danger of me getting attached to him, but as I look at his handsome face and think of the great care and consideration he’s shown me today, I worry that Mr. Wrong might start to feel like Mr. Right.
* * *
My shorts are finally dry. Well, Hannah’s shorts are finally dry, I should say. After Jake and I got out of the water, we sat on a log in the sun to let our clothes dry. It took just long enough that my head finally began to clear.
And indecision set in.
Am I really capable of engaging in even the most casual of relationships and banter with a guy like Jake? Earlier, I definitely thought so, but now . . . It seems that no matter how badly I get hurt or how much fun there is to be had on the “other side,” I’m still the same girl at heart. Some like it wild, but not me. At least not forever. I still want the same things. A man to love me more than anything. A man to put me and our family first. A man to build a life with. And I’m not crazy enough to think that Jake is that guy.
I might be crazy enough to wish he was, though.
I notice the low position of the sun and start to feel guilty about running off the way I did, without so much as a word to my parents. Yes, I’m an adult, but it was a really inconsiderate thing to do.
“I think I should probably head home,” I say to Jake when the music dies down again. Saltwater Creek has played intermittently since we arrived, and they’re actually quite good. I don’t really want to leave yet. The thought of curling up next to Jake, after dark, in front of the fire I can see them building on the beach area, is extremely tempting. But . . .
Jake is agreeable about leaving. He doesn’t seem to have any preference for staying or going.
He’s quiet on the drive home, but I don’t think that really says much. I get the feeling he’s not one for small talk.
It’s fully dark by the time we reach town. “You know, you could just drop me at my parents’ house if you wouldn’t mind. I can get one of them to take me to my car in the morning. It’s getting late.”
Jake shrugs. “Okay.”
“It’s not far from here.”
“I know where you live.”
“You do?”
“Everyone knows where the preacher lives.”
He falls silent again. He guides the Jeep competently through the turns that lead to my street. I study him surreptitiously from beneath my lashes. The sharp angle of his cheekbones and the sculpted edge of his lips are highlighted by the soft glow of the dashboard light. He doesn’t seem mad or upset, or inconvenienced. He just seems like . . . Jake.