Page 28 of Second Time Around
He tugged her along by the hand, that one point of contact sending a ripple of arousal through her.
“I don’t know.”
That put a hitch in his long stride. “You’ve never been on a boat?”
“Just a kayak,” she said. “Not a lot of oceans where I grew up.”
He dropped a hot kiss on her lips. “I’m beginning to enjoy being your first.”
Heat bloomed low in her belly. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not my first.” She gave him a wry look as he helped her into the golf cart.
“Your first helicopter ride.” He spun the cart away from the barn. “Your first sailboat ride.” He gave her a wicked glance. “Your first sailboat sex.”
“Don’t even think about the helicopter,” she said, grabbing the side of the cart as he sped over the grass.
“You’ve never wanted to join the mile-high club in a jet?”
The suggestive purr in his voice seemed to stroke over her skin.
“In one of those teeny, tiny bathrooms? You’d have to be a contortionist.” But her imagination kicked into overdrive, painting a pictureof her perched on the tiny steel sink, thighs spread, while Will drove into her.
“That’s what makes it so satisfying,” he said. “You have to work hard to find the right position.”
They skidded to a stop on a cobblestone apron in front of a multidoored garage. Will leaped out of the cart and tapped a code into the keypad on the garage wall, while Kyra tried to ignore the ache of yearning between her legs. The wooden door with its beveled glass windows glided upward to reveal a sports car in British racing green with a curved, elongated hood. She caught sight of the distinctive chrome ornament shaped like a leaping cat. “A Jaguar!”
He ran his long fingers along the car’s roof in a way that made her feel as though he was tracing the curves of her own body. “A classic E-type. My seventeenth-birthday gift.”
He walked to the passenger door and swung it open for her.
“It’s a sexy car,” Kyra said, slipping onto the tan leather seat and almost gasping at the friction against her sensitized clit.
“Wait until you hear the engine.” His voice went low with a hint of extra meaning.
Inside the garage, the engine throbbed like one of the longest pipes in an organ. As he shifted up, the car’s exhaust added an extra bass note.
“Top down?” he asked.
“Why not? It’ll blow the hay out of my hair.” And cool off some of the steam she’d worked up.
He hit a button and the ragtop folded back behind them. Then he punched the accelerator and Kyra sank back into the seat like a fighter pilot. By the time they pulled onto a wharf twenty minutes later, adrenaline and anticipation were surging through her, making laughter spill out of her throat. “That might have been better than sex,” she teased.
Will bent to rumble into her ear. “I’ll have to do my best to convince you otherwise.” He took her hand in his strong grip to lead her through a gate marked “Private—Boat Owners Only.” The creakingwooden docks held an assortment of sleek motor yachts and elegant sailboats, but Will drew her down a ramp to a float where small skiffs were tied up. A teenage boy in a sky-blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and boat shoes leaped off the milk crate he’d been seated on, swiping away at his cell phone. “Hey, Mr.Chase, where to?”
“TheRoyal Wave,” Will said before turning to Kyra. “It’s moored out in the harbor. Easier to get in and out that way.”
“You got it,” the young man said, heading for one of the runabouts. He held the boat steady at the dock while Will helped Kyra in and then followed her, his balance as secure on the sea as it was on land. For some reason, that fanned the flames smoldering inside her even higher. When they were settled side by side on the metal seat, the kid cast off and stepped into the boat before it drifted away from the dock.
“I’m betting you were just like that when you were young,” Kyra said by Will’s ear, as the outboard motor roared to life. “Knew exactly what you were doing on a boat.”
He lifted his head and sniffed the air as they headed away from the dock. “I worked here several summers when I was around his age. I liked running people out to their yachts. The tips were good, too.”
She flushed as she remembered Will’s over-the-top gratuity to her, but he was turned into the sea wind that flattened his shirt against the firm curves of his pecs, curves her palms itched to press against. Her embarrassment transmuted into pure desire.
Their youthful skipper wove through the marina, dodging a couple of yachts just coming in, and gunned the motor when they got out into the harbor. Although it was dotted with moored boats, the craft were farther apart, so he had their skiff skimming over the waves. Kyra realized they were headed for a graceful single-masted sailboat with a dark-blue hull and wooden trim.
“My mother’s beloved Hinckley,” Will said, standing to flip down a wooden ladder while their young captain held the skiff against the sailboat’s hull. “You might want to take your shoes off.”
“I’m more worried about climbing that in my dress,” Kyra said, surveying the ladder that rose and fell with the rocking of the boat.
