Page 57 of Never Date A Player
My heart pumps with anxiety. I don’t know why his stupid bird story scared me. Maybe it was the way he told it. Maybe it’s this place, but Jesus. Man-eating birds and ancient Native American sites? I don’t need this.
Only yes, I do. Drake and every jerk who came before him prove I need to toughen up, as Lewis so bluntly pointed out.
Mudder—that’s the goal. Afterward, I will be a tough chick and guys will think twice before messing with me.
Rocks and other indistinguishable blobs pass below in the clear water. I’m trying not to look at the shadows and guess at what they are, but it’s not working. Goddamn, Lewis. I flip over and backstroke for a while.
Two-thirds of the way there, I breaststroke the rest of the way in. My hand shakes like crazy as I carefully reach for one of the brownish, weathered stones of Cave Rock as if it might zap me for trespassing, like an electric fence. Instead of a light, fleeting contact, though, my fingers linger for a moment. This is a piece of Lewis’s family, his past and present. I’m drawn to it and fear it at the same time.
Whirling around, I book it the heck back.
I can’t believe I have to do this twice.
By the time I reach Lewis, I’m officially tired. I glare at him for good measure, which makes him grin. He looks unbelievably hot without his shirt, smiling down at me with mischievous, dark eyes. I have to work to not return that smile.
I push off the rocks below his feet and make my second lap to Cave Rock to give Ong another opportunity to take a juicy bite out of my ass.
My final lap to the jetty goes more slowly. Lungs aching, arms burning—my legs don’t work so well, and I don’t feel the cold anymore as I crawl pitifully up the rocks. Lewis doesn’t try to help. He learned his lesson the last time, when I verbally and sexually attacked him for lifting me off the cliff before I fell to my death.
Given that logic, if Lewis were a normal guy, he’d find a reason to save me, but Lewis isn’t normal. He’s pensive, reserved, and confusing, though his body reacted predictably on the beach. I can still feel his warm hands?—
A spasm of shivers erupts down my limbs, which turns into full-blown teeth-rattling vibrations as my body defrosts.
Lewis wraps a towel around my shoulders and runs another down my legs and feet. “How do you feel?”
“Like crap,” I say between chattering.
He lifts me onto his lap and hugs me to his chest, which feels as hot as a furnace. I press my face against his smooth skin. Suddenly, I’m not so cold, or cranky, despite it still being early morning. My mind wanders to last night and the things we did—the things we could be doing. “Does everyone you train get this treatment? I’m going to get jealous if you tell me you do this with Zach.”
He chuckles. “Just you.”
Are we talking training or something else? Am I the only one he kisses? Lewis doesn’t seem the type to hook up randomly, but I’ve been wrong before. Have things settled down with Mira to the point he can happily date without her torching his home?
“So Mira’s okay? With this?” I lean back to look in his eyes. His face doesn’t give much away, but I’ve noticed his eyes are expressive if I’m paying attention.
He tightens his arms and leans down, brushing his lips over mine. “Your lips need warming.”
My breath quickens, lungs tight and breathless like they were right after the swim. “Whose fault is that?”
“Mine, and I take my warming-up job very seriously.” He skims his lips across my cheek, below my ear, wrapping them around the lobe and sucking.
A shiver that’s in no way associated with the cold runs down my spine.
My ears were never sensitive. I don’t know why they are with him.
I slide my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Cool air brushes bare skin as the towel falls away. His hands grip my waist, our lips colliding. The kiss is intimate and thorough, communicating what we never say.
I’m not cold anymore. In fact, there’s a fire burning under my skin and it centers beneath Lewis’s hands as they roam over my bare back and around my ribs, his fingers grazing the underside of my breasts. My breath catches and he pauses.
I arch into his hand and he palms my breast, a low moan erupting from his chest—or mine?
Who cares?
The kiss becomes frantic and deep. Lewis lifts me, or I stand—not sure which—and my legs are now around his waist and straddling him.
The towels have gone by the wayside, a puddle on the stones. Only my bikini and Lewis’s board shorts block our skin, and knowing that and feeling him hard beneath me has my breath hitching between kisses.
His head lowers and he slides my bikini top to the side, his mouth concealing my nipple. I run my hands over his broad shoulders, my body shaking with the pleasure, knowing he’s mine in this moment, if no other.
