Page 68 of The Bodyguard Affair
“Come here,” he says gently, his eyes like beacons, as though we weren’t already floating toward each other.
It’s probably a bad idea, touching him. I have half a mind to backstroke away before it’s too late, but when my leg accidentally brushes against his side, any remaining reservation splinters away.
I hook my arms around his broad shoulders, letting my body dangle below until he brings me in close, my chest pressed to his. The soft waves crash against us, knocking my hips against his at a steady, rhythmic pace, until the friction becomes unbearable.
When he pulls back to study my face, I know he feels it, too. The charge between us, a spark away from igniting. “Fuck,” he whispers, eyes on fire. “You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now.”
“I want you to,” I whisper back.
He holds my gaze for a beat longer than normal. His eyes flick to my lips, confirming he wants to kiss me. We both move closer, the distance between us closing until our breaths mingle.A swell of heat pools in between my legs, and for once, I’m not thinking. I’m doing.
I hinge forward and we practically collide. His hand drifts to the small of my back, tilting me closer and closer until our lips catch. It’s soft, delicate, testing.
“Is this okay?” he rasps, feathering a couple slow kisses along my jaw and down my neck. Holy shit.
I mumble something that sounds like a cross between “fuck” and “yes,” not that it fully captures the way I’m feeling.
He pauses against my lips. “Are you sure? I didn’t hear you.”
“Don’t stop,” I order authoritatively, pressing a soft nibble into the bottom of his lip, kissing away the pearl-like water droplet hanging there.
In response, he makes a low, guttural sound at the back of his throat that lights a match within me, within both of us. He wraps his arms under my ass and hoists my legs tight around his waist. His tongue slides hungrily against mine, dropping down to my neck, skimming my shoulders. He tilts his waist toward me, and I arch against something heavy pressing into my lower stomach.
The kiss deepens until there’s absolutely no space, no water between us. It’s lip biting, tongues colliding, him pulling me so flush against him, I could combust. It’s commanding yet desperate all at once, the way we’re hungry for each other, as though we’ve both wanted this for longer than we’d like to admit. Or at least I have.
A pulse drops from my stomach to between my legs. I smooth my palms over the hard ridges of his shoulders to stabilize myself. The water makes it easy to roll my hips against him in a ravenous frenzy. I feel like I’m in some sort of Nolan-inducedtrance, and I never want to snap out of it. No one has ever kissed me like this.
His hands work their way from the small of my back up under my bra. He runs the pads of his fingertips up and down my thighs, touching me the way I’ve only ever fantasized about in my books.
My breath hitches when his hands reach my ass, cupping it hard, using it to set the pace.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that, nice and slow.” He arches himself back to me, planting kisses all the way down my throat, stopping at the base of my ear before slamming his mouth back to mine. His fingers play with the lacy hem of my panties, and I’m seriously regretting not wearing a thong—not that he seems to care or notice.
“That feels so good,” I whisper. Even in the water, the friction is about to set me ablaze, so much so, an embarrassingly loud moan rockets out of me, reverberating across the lake. I’ve never been particularly vocal or boisterous while being intimate with other men, but there’s something about Nolan that makes me feel like another person entirely. It feels like an otherworldly experience, getting out of my head, letting my body take the lead. Because I’ve never, ever let myself let go like this, with anyone.
“Fuck. The way you sound.” His thumb presses deeper under the hem, followed by another finger, just barely grazing me, almost teasing as he works his fingers closer and closer to my clit.
I rake my fingers over his chest, up to his neck, holding him close, letting myself feel every single sensation, letting myself moan into his ear as loud as I need to.
Apparently, he loves it, because he kisses me even harder. It’swet. It’s needy. It’s electric. And then he nearly loses it, bucking in a frantic pace against me. This is officially the hottest moment of my life.
I’m utterly throbbing, desperate for him to touch me, ready to beg for release.
A low buzzing sound on the dock yanks us out of the moment. His phone.
His gaze snaps up. He shifts me off him, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he scrambles to hoist himself onto the dock to check the screen. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice strained. “Shit. It’s my neighbor. Hold on.”
Dripping wet, he takes quick, unsteady steps up the dock, his usually smooth movements now sharp with urgency. I follow him, climbing the ladder as fast as I can.
Shit. Is she okay? I’ll be home in half an hour. Leaving now.
He rushes back to me, his shoulders rigid, his eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and unmistakable worry. “Andi, I’m really sorry. I have to go. Now.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, wringing water from my hair, which is plastered to my face in a complete sopping mess.
“It’s my mom.”
Chapter 29
