Page 116 of Hot Knot Summer
Heat floods my cheeks, but I do as he asks, doing a slow turn that I know shows off the practically non-existent back of the bikini.
“Fuck me,” he groans. “Emma, you have any idea what you look like right now? Like every fantasy I’ve ever had come to life.”
The raw want in his voice makes me bold. “Just fantasies?” I ask, stepping into the cool water. “That’s disappointing.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, moving toward me like a predator stalking prey. “I’m going to show you exactly how much more than fantasies you inspire.”
The water is perfect, cool enough to be refreshing without being shocking. It’s crystal clear, and I can see smooth rocks on the bottom and small fish darting between the shadows. But all of that fades into background noise when Atlas reaches me.
His hands settle on my waist, and he lifts me effortlessly until my legs wrap around his waist. The position presses us together, his hardness against me, and I can feel exactly how much the bikini affects him.
“Hi,” I whisper, suddenly shy despite the scandalous swimwear.
“Hi, yourself.” His voice is rough, his eyes dark with want. “You’re so fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at you.”
“You keep making me blush.”
“I’m obsessed with you.” His hands slide up my sides, his thumbs brushing over my erect nipples. “You know that? The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking, the little sounds you make when you’re writing, how you get that crease between your eyebrows when you’re concentrating. I watch you, and I can barely think straight.”
His confession makes my heart race. “You do the same thing to me. All of you do. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
“Good,” he growls, then his mouth is on mine.
This is all heat and demand, his tongue slidingagainst mine with devastating skill. I can taste the strawberries we shared and the faint hint of coffee from this morning.
My hands fist in his hair, and I arch against him, seeking more contact. The movement presses my barely covered breasts against his chest, and we both groan at the sensation.
“You’re my complete undoing,” he whispers against my lips. “Do you know that? I’ve spent years keeping control, being the responsible one, then you walk into my life, and I can barely remember my own name.”
“Good,” I whisper back, nipping at his lower lip. “I like having that effect on you.”
He kisses me harder, one hand at the back of my neck while the other explores the minimal coverage of my bikini. His thumb brushes over my nipple through the thin fabric, and I gasp into his mouth.
“Oh, those nipples look so cold,” he says with fake concern, though his voice is rough with want. “Show me. My mouth is so warm.”
I laugh at him.
“So responsive,” he murmurs, leaning me slightly back by his hand gripping my nape and somehow managing to slip my bikini aside on one breast. When his mouth closes over my nipple, I moan, arching into him. His tongue does wicked, flicking things to my nipple, and I hiss at the sensation. “Fuck, Emma, I could spend hours just learning what makes you gasp like that.”
“Please...”
“Please, what, sweetheart?”
Before I can answer, his phone starts ringing from the shore, shrill and insistent in the peaceful quiet.
“Ignore it,” he murmurs against my throat, his lips taking more of my breast into his mouth.
But his phone rings again and then again, cutting through the moment like a knife.
“Shit,” he groans, reluctantly releasing me. “I have to get that. Could be the station.”
He wades toward shore, and I follow, fixing my bikini, suddenly feeling the chill of the water without his warmth. I grab a towel from the basket and wrap it around myself while he answers the phone, water still dripping from his hair.
“Levi, what’s up?” His voice is tense, immediately shifting into work mode.
I settle on the sunny part of the blanket with some cheese and crackers, but my appetite has vanished. There’s something in Atlas’s posture that makes my stomach clench with anxiety.
The silence stretches, and I study his expression growing more serious with each passing second.
