What would she do with that knowledge?
Does it matter? You’ll never tell her. You’ll never allow yourself to be that vulnerable.
But what if he did?
Suddenly, Hannah laughed, the sound breaking into his thoughts. “This is so unreal.”
Opening his eyes, he watched as she threw her arms out and arched her neck. He ran his hand down the front of her shirt and then back up again to cup the back of her neck before settling himself between her thighs, uncaring if everyone saw them like this.
“Good unreal?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Completely.” Her gray eyes sparkled in the sun when she looked at him. “You have sand all over you. Your clothes are ruined, or they will be by the time I’m through with you.”
“And you don’t look the least bit sorry about it.”
“Nope. You’ve just indulged my number-one fantasy.”
“Ruining my clothes and having sand in parts it has no business being in is your fantasy?”
“A little.” She grinned. “Remember when you rescued me from that riptide? You walked out of the ocean, carrying me. It was the most romantic thing ever.” Her charming grin turned into a grimace. “Except when I puked.”
“It’s permanently ingrained into my brain.” Even now, he could feel the stark terror of watching her go under and not resurface. He touched her cheek, brushing away a line of sand. “I have no idea how we didn’t drown. You fought me until I started talking to you.”
“How did you know I was there?” she asked.
“I followed you.” He had watched her that morning while she swam in the resort pool. That summer had been the start of something different for him.
Her eyes went wide. “You followed me?”
“I was worried. You went off by yourself to the north point of the beach.” Feeling a bit foolish at his confession, he rolled off her, stood, and held out his hand.
Taking it, she joined him. The material of her shirt and shorts were plastered against her curvy, little body. The wind blew, and her nipples peaked.
He looked away, or at least he tried to, but their impromptu rolling in the sand had only whetted his appetite for her.
“I need a shower. Want to help wash my back?” she asked, and his gaze flew to her face.
His heart slammed against his chest at the thought of her nude body becoming soapy, of his hands washing her. It was ridiculous if he thought about it. He wasn’t a virgin, and usually he was the one with the suggestions.
Only this was Hannah, and he preferred for her to take the lead. For now, at least.
“I’ll wash yours,” she said, as if she needed to sweeten the offer.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Nine
Hannah suddenly grabbed his hand and tugged. “Let’s go.”
They took off running for the house, Hannah laughing along the way. She turned, jogging backwards. “Wow. You’ve gotten slow.”
Another unexpected treat. He couldn’t imagine any of his previous lovers playing with him like this. “Slow is better in some instances.”
“This isn’t one of them.” She winked. “I would think that the offer of nude backing washing would put some fire in you. Guess I’ll have to wash the sand off all by myself.”
Then she pivoted and took off a dead run. For a few seconds, he was impressed, but Hannah had always been athletic. How many swimming contests had they had as kids?
With a grin, he lengthened his strides until he was almost caught up to her. Veering quickly to the right, she jumped over a row of flowers and into her backyard.
“Unfair advantage,” he shouted, but he was impressed as hell.
Slowing to a walk, she opened her mouth to say something, but he grabbed her and slung her over his shoulders. She pressed on his back and managed to wiggle down into his arms.
“Don’t you dare take us inside my house like this!”
“I thought you wanted a shower?”
“I do.” She began nibbling on his earlobe. “I can’t wait to get you in the shower.”
He closed his eyes to the pleasure and tilted his head to give her better access. “Then we need to go inside.”
“I have an outdoor shower,” she said in between kisses.
“Where?”
Her arm shot out, pointing away from the house and to a wooden, enclosed structure. He jogged to the outdoor shower, yanking the door open and shutting it behind them. She turned on the hot water while he worked at the buttons of her cut-off jeans.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she panted, ripping at his shirt. Buttons went flying, pinging against the wooden planks.
Pushing her back against the wall, he kissed her neck, nibbled on her jaw, and bit the lobe of her ear. She ran her hands up and down his back, her nails sinking into his skin as hot water rained down on them.