Unraveled(55)

“Hey, I like stupid cat pictures as much as the next person.”

Sticking my fishing rod under the seat, I started to shift toward him but my motion caused the boat to rock with some force.

"Trying to make your own adventure?" Gray's low voice broke through the silence.

“Whoops, sorry. I want to lie down next to you.”

"Sure thing, baby.” The way he said baby reminded me of how he’d growled it while we had sex, and it sent a tremor through me that had nothing to do with the rocking boat. Although when I stood up, the boat did tilt too far toward the water for me to feel comfortable.

"Stoop and do a sort of duck walk until you get to me or we'll be swimming, not boating," Gray instructed.

I slunk down to my haunches and shuffled awkwardly over to Gray. His long legs with their surprisingly soft hair rubbed against me and the tremor turned into a tingle. Our eyes caught, and his smile was naughty. He pulled me upright while his legs braced against the boat, again reminding me of his physical prowess. I settled against him, the space so small that I was almost lying half on top of him. His arm was under me and it felt very cozy and intimate. Closeness, not just sex, was another thing I'd missed.

Gray sat up and picked up his oar and placed it across the top of the boat. He did the same with mine. This time he lifted his legs up and placed them on top of the crossed oars. His long legs dangled off the other side and rested against the seat I was on. Then his hands picked up my legs and rested them against the oars. When he returned the reclining position, he pulled me down next to him and covered his face with his hat. I should have been uncomfortable. I was lying on a small wooden bench leaning against a plastic cooler and my legs were resting on crossed wooden oars. His arm was under my shoulders, cradling me.

I'd not been held like this in forever. "Just stop thinking," he said. His head was so close to mine, I could feel the small puffs of breath as he mouthed each word.

"How?"

"Pretend I'm a pillow. Close your eyes and count slowly."

I closed my eyes and began to count. One, two, three. Little by little, my body relaxed. Whether it was the sun, the heat, or the soothing touch of Gray's hand on my forearm, I let myself go and I drifted off into nothingness.

Gray smoothing lotion on my legs woke me an hour later. I fought waking because the dream had been so lovely. Big hands and long fingers rubbing up and down my legs. Those capable fingers squeezed my calves gently and palms followed the curve of my knees. Those questing hands paused above my knees. "Don't stop," I moaned. I wanted this massage to continue, right up my thighs. Those thumbs could brush the crease between my legs and hips.

When the hand didn't move like I wanted, I pulled it up and placed it right where I wanted it. The tip of the thumb pointing toward my private place between my legs. The rest of the fingers splayed across the top of my thigh and because the fingers were so long, they could wrap around the side. I sighed with pleasure and heard a masculine groan of appreciation in return. The thumb dug in for a moment and then the pressure receded. Instead, I felt the hand on my opposite leg and then my arms. I frowned but was too weak and tired to protest more. Instead, I allowed sleep to pull me under once again.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





Gray

AS SAM DRIFTED OFF INTO another lazy rest, I took the opportunity to look her all over. Too bad she wasn’t nude, but I knew no amount of cajoling would convince her to sit in this boat without any clothes on. Shame because then I could have inspected every inch of her in the sunlight. I’d have put sunscreen on more than just her legs.

When she awoke after a short nap, I gave her a sandwich and ate two before she finished half of hers. I liked providing Sam’s meals. There was something intensely satisfying about that. Probably a feeling that harkened back to our cave-dwelling ancestors, not that spreading mayo on bread was the same thing as going out and killing a wooly mammoth for food. But I could totally do that if she needed it.

“Tell me about your husband,” I said, surprising myself.

“Really? You want to know?”

“Why not?” He was, after all, dead. I wasn’t jealous of a dead man. Right? Right.

“The only person that really wants to talk about him anymore is his mother, Carolyn.”

“Is that as horrible as your tone suggests?" I squeezed her a little closer to me.

“Pretty much. The Will she describes isn't like the real Will. He's like a boy who never grew up. All perfect and innocent."

“And he wasn't?"

“No. He was crazy and wild. There wasn't a challenge that he didn't like to accept. He never believed in turning the other cheek. He wanted to suck the life out of every moment like—” She stopped then and swallowed hard. “Like—”