Page 37 of The Vineyard Crush

And that hair…those wild mahogany tendrils clung to the elegant column of her neck, trailing rivulets of water that I wanted nothing more than to chase with my tongue. To nuzzle aside those dripping strands, bare her creamy flesh to my hungry mouth, and taste the intoxicating salt-sweet of her skin as she writhed and whimpered beneath me.

Visions of sinking my teeth into the plump swell of her thighs flooded my mind, hazy images of spreading those sinfully long legs and burying myself to the hilt in her slick, velvet heat. Of crushing her lush body against mine as she arched and keened and—

A stinging barrage of icy droplets slapped my face, the shocking chill shocking the air from my lungs and mercifully shattering the X-rated fantasies holding me hostage.

“Dad! Water fight!” Lily shrieked, her lithe body contorting gleefully as she sent another volley of liquid fire in my direction.

“Yeah, c’mon, Ridge!” Emma taunted, a wicked glint sparking in those summer-sky eyes as she flung a wave of shimmering spray toward my stunned face. Her full lips curved into a smug smile, chest heaving with each ragged pant in a way that made my mouth go Sahara dry. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a couple of little girls.”

This infuriatingly gorgeous woman was going to be the death of me…but what a way to go.

“Dad, help!” Cody yelled, desperately trying to block the barrage as Scooby joined in the chaos, massive paws churning the creek into a roiling current. Clearly, it was every man—and beast—for himself.

“Get ‘em, Avis,” I growled at the squealing ball of energy bouncing at my feet, unable to tear my eyes from Emma’s drenched, impossibly perfect form.

Avery needed no further prompting. With a mighty squeal of delight, she launched herself into the fray, blessed distraction that she was. Launching an arcing wave of spray in Emma’s direction, then dissolving into peals of tinkling laughter at the shocked squawk her efforts earned her.

That sound, rich with unbridled joy, pierced straight through my lustful haze and locked me onto the true prize—the light in my daughters’ eyes, the music of their happiness. Whatever dangerous desires Emma awakened in the darker corners of my soul, they would always, always pale in comparison to the unconditional love I felt for my daughters.

“Alright, alright,” I grumbled with as much long-suffering growl as I could muster, lips twitching in a reluctant smile as Cody and Lily both wheeled on me with triumphant whoops, twin sets of bright eyes dancing. “You rugrats want a war? You got it.”

With that, I launched myself into the gushing creek, cutting through the icy current in a series of powerful overhand strokes, every muscle contracting and releasing like a well-oiled machine. As I neared the shallows where my girls were making a futile stand, I dove beneath the churning surface for several strokes, using the rushing water to propel me forward.

Then I exploded upward, my drenched torso cleaving through the crystalline surface. I was momentarily blinded as shimmering droplets cascaded everywhere, grinning fiercely at the chorus of squeals and screams that greeted my arrival. My vision cleared just in time to take in the tantalizing sight of Emma backpedalling furiously, slim fingers raking those soaked strands off her forehead in an unconsciously seductive move.

But the teasing smirk curving those sinful lips was my undoing. In that instant, all semblance of restraint, of the carefully curated boundaries I’d erected between us, crumbled to dust. I lunged for her with a speed that surprised even me, grasping that slippery, taut body around the waist and crushing her against my heaving chest as I staggered backwards into the shallows once more.

She gasped a throaty, breathy sound that speared straight to my groin. Every lush inch of her moulded against me in that staggeringly intimate clinch—from the velvet swell of her breasts rasping against my bare skin to the deliriously soft plane of her belly undulating with each quick inhale. Twin sets of fingers splayed across my shoulders, palms sliding up my nape in a searing caress that dragged my face down to hers…

…and that’s when I lost it. Completely. Utterly. With a guttural growl of pure possession, I angled my head, intent on crushing those taunting lips beneath mine—

“Sweet! You little hellions finally get to witness a PG-13 version of The Waterhole!”

The jarring shout rang out across the creek with all the subtlety of a gunshot, shattering the heated tension thrumming between Emma and me like a wrecking ball through plate glass. She recoiled from my embrace as if scorched, stumbling backward with a strangled gasp, those kissable lips I’d been a hairsbreadth away from devouring now pursed into a tight line.

Cheeks stained a furious crimson, she wouldn’t—couldn’t—meet my burning gaze as she put miles of the icy creek between us in a flurry of splashing retreat. Which was just as well, because I felt the first licks of humiliated flames crackling beneath my own skin as realization slammed into me with brutal force.

Ethan Harrison. The guy who had become one of my closest friends over the past four years since buying this prime slice of Maine wine country. Emma’s older brother, who had welcomed me into their inner circle after my messiest life implosion—only to catch me mere seconds away from mauling his baby sister like a Neanderthal laying claim to his cave bride.

He was lounging on the grassy bank like he didn’t have a care in the world, grinning at me in that fucked-up, cocky way only he could fully master—the same maddening expression that had bonded our friendship through plenty of hijinks and dramatics these past few years.

“Perfect!” He crowed with a dramatic flourish of his hands, somehow making the designer hiking gear draped across his lean frame look as casual as worn denim. “Give me two more minutes of that and I might actually start believing you can be fun to be around, Big Daddy Ridge.”

The muscle in my jaw ticked as I absorbed the familiar jab, the old nickname he’d insisted on using ever since I became a single father. Crossing my arms over my chest, I summoned the fiercest glower in my arsenal—the one that had grown ass men quaking in their boots and hedge fund hotshots soiling themselves.

Ethan, that smug son of a bitch, only grinned wider.

“If you showed up with some help you’ll see I am a hoot to be around,” I gruffed, aiming for levity to diffuse the palpable tension crackling between us.

Ethan’s stormy gaze flicked from me to his sister and back again, that arrogant brow inching higher as realization seemed to dawn behind those silver-dollar eyes. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips as he shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Oh, the only good thing about hanging out with you is those little hellions,” he declared with an exaggerated sigh, leveraging easily to his feet.

A knee-jerk surge of irritation flared hot and bright within me at his typically dismissive jibe. I opened my mouth, a blistering retort prepared to strike back when the shrill peal of childish laughter pierced the heavy air. Cody came tearing past, a sheet of shimmering droplets trailing in his wake as he zigged and zagged along the grassy bank, a whirlwind of chubby limbs and breathless giggles and golden curls.

“Save me, Dad!” he squealed over one narrow shoulder, the syllables stretching into a familiar high-pitched shriek as Ethan gave chase, those long legs rapidly devouring the distance between them.

Catching the younger boy around the middle, Ethan easily hoisted Cody’s squirming body aloft with one arm as though he weighed no more than a feather. With his free hand, he mussed that tousled mop of hair, utterly impervious to the slew of protests and attempted slaps the boy rained down on him.

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