Chapter Twelve
They didn’t speak all the way back. The only sound was the slicing of their oars through the water and the occasional birdcall. The air was thick, suddenly. Though it was a clear, sunny day, Amy felt like a storm might roll in. When the tip of the boat bumped up against the shore, Dax hopped out of his perch in the back, waded around, lifted her up and swung her onto the shore like she was made of feathers. Then he dragged the canoe onto the grass and over to the rack that housed it. She followed and, obeying his silent cue in the form of a nod, grabbed the other end and helped him lift the boat into its slot.
Then his hand was on her lower back, pressing her forward. She jumped from the contact. He walked quickly, propelling her ahead of him. There was still that odd, pre-storm quality to the air, like there was a field of hidden electricity wrapped around them. Her skin began to prickle, feel tight. She had to keep her nerves under control. If they were on their way to do what she thought they were, it would be her last chance with him. She couldn’t afford to mess this up again.
On the final approach to Dax’s house, Gary popped out from around the back of his. “Hey! Oh, hi Amy.” She waved. “You guys want to see the latest?”
Dax didn’t break stride, didn’t stop resting his hand against her lower back. Didn’t even make eye contact with Gary as he said, “Not now.”
And then they were inside, and he was backing her toward the sofa. She hadn’t realized they weren’t going to talk at all. It was probably better this way, but she did need to make sure he understood that they were on the same page. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she said as her legs hit the back of the sofa and he guided her into a seating position and knelt between her legs.
“I know.” He grabbed the hem of her tank top and pulled.
She lifted her arms up to help. Her whole body was thrumming. When he lowered his mouth to her neck, she hissed at the contact. “I’m not looking for anything serious,” she gasped as his hands snaked around and unfastened her bra.
“I know.”
“Oh my God.” As his hands came around to cup her breasts, she issued one final disclaimer, even as a rush of moisture gathered between her legs. “This can’t make work weird. We still have to be friends. Or—oh!” He had lowered his mouth to one nipple and sucked, hard. “Or frenemies, or whatever we are.”
Once more, he answered with his refrain. “I know.” But it was an all-out growl this time, and after the words left his mouth, he crashed it down on hers. She couldn’t talk anymore. Couldn’t think. Could only focus on the impossible, all-consuming heat between them. On getting more of it. More of him.
So she pressed her hands against his chest, keeping her lips on his as she stood up and shimmied out of her shorts and underwear.
“Oh, God,” he said, standing with her and pausing for a moment to let his eyes rake down her body.
Standing there naked while he was fully clothed was strangely erotic. But also a little intimidating because he just kept staring at her, his green eyes glittering. Her blood roared in her ears, and her skin still felt like it was alive with pinpricks of heat. If he didn’t touch her again soon, she was going to die. Or lose her nerve. “I assume you have condoms somewhere in this house?”
The question seemed to puncture his trance. “In the bedroom.” He grabbed her hand and used his other arm to work his shirt up over his shoulder. He nodded her ahead of him, and as they reached the door, he dropped her hand and finished the job of dispensing with his shirt.
As they entered the bedroom, she glanced at the bulge his board shorts were doing nothing to hide. When he didn’t immediately get the hint, she grabbed the waistband herself, pushed them down, and let her hand brush lightly against his penis on the way back up.
His head lolled back on a groan as she did so.
So she did it again. Last time, at the Ritz, he’d been so focused on her, and she’d just lain there limp, overwhelmed with sensations—first pleasure, and then panic as he’d pushed her to the brink of an orgasm in record time. This time, she wanted to show him that his pleasure mattered, too. So she pushed him back to sit on the bed and sank to her knees.
The groan that ripped from his throat was pure sex, and it thrilled her. “Oh, fuck me,” he rasped as she closed her mouth over him, taking him as deep as she could.
“I think that’s the idea,” she teased as she released him at the top of a stroke and then took him into her mouth again. He practically roared then, and clenched his hands into fists that he lifted above his head as if he were trying not to hit something.