She blinked. “No?”
He smiled slightly at her disappointed tone. “No.”
It was all he said. The moment stretched and lengthened as they stood there separated by mere inches of air. She stared at the hollow of his throat, holding her breath, fighting the temptation to fidget. Was this his plan? To...to awkward her into dropping the towel? It might actually work.
Just when she thought she couldn’t stand another second of this torture, finally—finally—he moved. She let out the breath she was holding in a shaky sigh.
He drew a single fingertip along the edge of the towel where it covered her breast, barely grazing her damp skin, leaving sparks of desire in his wake.
“Oh, no,” he said softly, achingly.
Her gaze shot to his face. “What?”
“Do you remember the summer I was a lifeguard? You had just turned fifteen.”
She nodded. “I went to the pool every day with Suzie and Luke so we could all hang out together.” It was her last carefree summer. By November, her mom’s cancer had been discovered and her world had changed entirely.
“You wore a blue bikini.”
“I had a lot of bikinis.” It had been important that she look devastatingly cute, but she had never allowed herself to question why. It occurred to her now that it might not have been a generic desire. It might have been about him, specifically. Funny how she understood herself better now, looking back, than she had while actually experiencing it.
“Yeah, but that’s the one I remember best. All your other bikinis had clasps like a bra, and I hadn’t quite mastered bras yet,” he said ruefully. “But the blue one tied around your neck in a bow and I knew how to undo knots. The first time I saw you in that bikini, you had your hair pulled up in some bun thing. I saw that bow and it wasn’t even a double knot. All it would take was a quick tug and it would come undone. And I thought...oh, no.”
She tried to laugh, but it came out as a croak. “Why?” Such a stupid question. So needy.
“Because I knew that moment would change everything for me. I wasn’t ready for it. Friends don’t untie a friend’s bikini top, and I wanted to untie yours like I wanted my next breath.” His finger kept stroking, tracing the outline of her body, skimming from her wrist up her arm and shoulder to the juncture of her neck.
It was at once soothing and unbearably erotic.
“I wasn’t wrong, you know,” he said. “It did change everything. I tried to push it away, to ignore it. Sometimes I even tricked myself into believing it was nothing. I was a horny teenage boy; of course I wanted to untie your bikini. It was completely normal and didn’t have to mean anything. But then you would do something like, I don’t know, smile, or be weirdly competent at something that had thrown the rest of us for a loop. Or stand there in a towel and say make me. And I’d be knocked on my ass again and think, oh no.” His finger paused at her jaw, where her pulse beat a rapid pace. “You wreck me, Emma.”
She was melting, her bones turning to water. Fire and heat and a clash of wills she could handle, but this...this soft onslaught of tenderness dismantled her defenses with all the devastation of a summer sun melting the last spring snow.
He tilted her chin, forcing her gaze to his, giving her nowhere to hide. “Drop the towel, Emma. I want you to wreck me.”
She dropped the towel.
It wasn’t a choice so much as a need. Somehow his vulnerability had turned the power dynamic on its head. She was so entirely in his thrall that she would walk naked down Main Street if that’s what he wanted her to do. Fortunately, he seemed intent on keeping her right where she was, all to himself, judging by the hungry look in his eyes.
He let out a low curse. Her skin was covered in goose bumps—how was she cold and hot at the same time? He cupped a breast with one hand, his callused thumb scraping against her nipple until it was diamond-hard. The other hand snaked around her ribcage and pressed firmly between her shoulder blades. She submitted to his unspoken request, arching her back. She was rewarded when he dipped his head, caught her nipple with his mouth, and gave it a languid suck.
Her head fell back on a moan, her hands digging into his shoulders for balance. His clothed shoulders. He was still wearing a black T-shirt, jeans...hell, even his shoes. Just like last time, he was fully clothed, and she was fully naked. Twice was not enough to constitute a pattern, but it was something. Like a childhood dare: show me yours and I’ll show you mine. Or maybe he wanted to make absolutely certain she wasn’t going to change her mind and leave the second he got his boots off.
It wasn’t fair, and if there was one thing Emma craved, it was fairness. Her life had been full of unfortunate events and terrible grief, but in this one thing, at least, she could have some control. She could reclaim her power. And if reclaiming her power also meant ripping his clothes off, climbing him like a tree, and rubbing her bare skin all over his, well, then so be it.
His shirt went first. She whisked it over his head before going straight for his belt buckle. He was silent as he kicked off his shoes and she slid his jeans down his legs. He stepped free and nudged the pile of clothes aside. Now he was every bit as naked as she was and God, he was a glorious sight. All that bronzed skin waiting to be licked. She wanted...she wanted...
She dropped to her knees.
Eli drew in a sharp breath as she wrapped one hand around the length of his hard cock. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his. She wanted to witness her effect on him. Wanted to imprint this image on his mind, of her on her knees, to remember for the rest of his life. Wanted to make him feel pleasure like he had never experienced before. Wanted to wreck him.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
And licked him root to tip before enveloping him in her warm, wet mouth, her gaze never leaving his.
His shouted curse was very gratifying. She tried not to smile, not wanting to lose suction even for a moment. She loved having him in her mouth. Loved the little moans that came when she flicked her tongue against the silky head of his cock, the way he hardened and thickened even more, the way she could feel his legs begin to tremble. She might be on her knees, but she had all the power.
And then the sharp, panicked tug of her hair when he realized how close to the edge she had driven him. “Wait—oh, fuck—not like this. Inside you.”