Page 93 of Lime Tree Hill

“I wanted to try again. But you’re the coach. And don’t call me Princess.”

“Fine.” He tugged down his zipper. “Find someone else to stand in the freezing water all afternoon if I’m so hard to deal with.”

“I will. Tim’s offered, more than once.”

“You want Tim to teach you? Knock yourself out.”

Tayla dropped her bikini top at her feet and pulled his hoodie over her naked chest, then peeled off her wetsuit and flung it onto the tray of his truck. She wrapped a towel around her hips and waited in the front seat, her arms crossed and face tense.

They drove home in stony silence. The sun had dipped behind the hills, and her skin bumped with the cold. She couldn’t wait to have a hot shower and warm up. When Mitch parked outside the packing shed, she flung open the door and stormed off without a word.

Standing in the shower, Tayla wondered why she was mad at Mitch instead of herself. As usual, he didn’t come inside straight away. Having an orchard meant there was always something to check on, but maybe he was giving her space to calm down.

She’d just washed her hair when he opened the shower doorand slipped in behind her. She had to step aside as he positioned himself under the flow from the showerhead, his body hard against hers. She turned, and despite her annoyance, the sight of him naked and engulfed by steam almost took her breath away.

Mitch glanced down at her, no trace of softness in his expression.

“You’re taking my water,” she said.

“Get over it.” He squeezed shampoo into his palm and started washing his hair, not bothering to look at her. “You’re trying my patience, so I guess we’re even. You need to learn to do as you’re told.”

“I can’t believe you said that when you know my history. You’re so insensitive.”

“I’m not being insensitive to your fear. But when I told you to get out, you didn’t listen. There’s plenty of time to be perfect, but no, you want to surf like a pro without learning the basics first.”

“I got out when you said.”

“Yeah, and you’re still mad about it. If you want me to teach you, you have to do as I say, understand?”

“I don’thave todo anything. You men, you’re all the same.” Tayla seldom raised her voice, but she wasn’t opposed to a little agitation creeping into her tone. “It’s always about you.”

“Hey.” Mitch lifted her chin with his hand, his dark eyes staring into hers. “Let’s get one thing clear.” He bent and kissed her, his tongue firm against hers, then pulled back. “I’m not like any other man you’ll ever meet, and you’re not like any other woman I’ll ever meet. And you know why? Because we fit. Understand?”

She understood, so much so that she struggled for a comeback.

Needy lips found the side of her neck—one hand on her breast, his touch wild and urgent. “So, let’s cut the crap,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “Because the moment you dropped that scrap of fabric you call a bikini top and pulled my hoodie over your naked breasts, I wanted to pin you against my truck and fuckyou until your knees buckled and your heart pounded in your chest. To make you breathless and wet for me until I controlled your thoughtsandyour body.”

She tried to suppress her smile, the effect of his words immediate.Like gravel on velvet.

“It’s not your hoodie,” she said, her last attempt at defiance. “You gave it to me, remember?”

He gently pushed her against the wall. Another desperate kiss followed as he eased her legs apart with his. “I did. Now, I want something in return.” He dropped to his knees and buried his face between her thighs, his hands pinning her hips against the tiles. He pulled back, looked up. “And I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t know what’s hit you. If you don’t want this, say so now.”

“Yes!”

“Yes?”

Raking her hands through his hair, Tayla braced herself against his intention. “I want this…so bad.”

When they’d left the beach, she could hardly speak to him. Now, with his hands holding her still, and his lips and tongue reducing her to a quivering mess, she forgot about the surfing lesson, his attitude, and finally, why she was even mad in the first place.

Mitch moved his lips and hands up her body. “You have perfect breasts. Small and firm and just begging to be touched.”

She trembled, moaning his name softly, her legs turning to jelly and her heartbeat racing in her chest as he reached for a condom from the vanity drawer and rolled it on. He turned her to face the wall and rubbed himself between the cleft of her buttocks in hot, even strokes. And as he plunged into her from behind—thrusting harder with every stroke until they both came—she felt exactly how he’d said she would.

Controlled. Beautifully, utterly controlled.

Mitch collapsed against the wall and slid to the floor, taking her with him as the water streamed down on them.

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