Page 43 of Our Sadie

What was I saying about this not being about sex? Because my cock didn’t receive the memo. Especially not when she quits fighting to get out of my arms and peers right into my eyes at pointblank range.

FOURTEEN: Dangerous Territory

ZACHARY

I’m not even sure who moves first, but in the next second we’re sucking face as if nothing else will provide us with the life-giving oxygen we need. I’ve kissed her before. But it wasn’t anything this intense. Shit, it’s downright sultry.

Her lips are wet from the water—fortunately not that awful over-chlorinated kind—and with my chest utterly bare I can feel every curve and line of where she’s up against me. Like that her nipples are peaked, for instance.

Hell, yeah.

But when I take a breath, Sadie’s blinking at me uncertainly, and all I can think of is how she was crying yesterday. Even though things seemed aboveboard, it yanks me out of the moment. I refuse to take advantage of this situation and decide my safest bet would be to let her initiate.

Which she’s not currently doing.

Instead, since we’re shallow enough to have our feet touching the bottom, she steps back from me, putting about a foot of distance between us. Message received. So, despite my hard-on being flush with her pelvic bone mere seconds ago, I launch into a speech to try to reclaim my composure.

“Did you know that a lot of orthopedic surgeons and occupational therapists prescribe water aerobics to their patients? They did for me after my surgeries. In a heated pool only because the warmth relaxes you and feels so good.” Uh-oh. Feeling good is dangerous territory. I need to pivot. “It makes the resistance less...” I’m about to say painful but switch that term out. “Of a struggle. By lowering the amount of pressure on joints and muscle groups.”

Sadie’s gaze softens, and she approaches. Her tone is lighter than usual, even amused, when she says, “Is that right?”

“Uh, yeah.” I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to stop. “Then there’s the benefit of blood circulation and...”

Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. The only blood circulation issues I can consider with any gravity are the ones involving my dick since she’s now crossed over to me to play with the damp curls at the nape of my neck.. I’ll be lucky if I have more than two brain cells to rub together because the tent in my swim trunks is growing exponentially.

“Zach?” She interrupts me.

“Uh-huh?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

I do because I’m helpless to do anything else.

And holy shit, her lips are plump. Plump and juicy. I nibble at them, and when she opens her mouth, I sweep my tongue inside, tasting her. We’re surrounded by the swirling eddies of the pool, the heated water only helping to stoke the fires of our fervor. Her right hand takes my left and situates my fingers on the hem of her swimsuit tank, encouraging me to tug it upward.

And what’s a guy to do but take the hint?

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