Cool tile hit her back. A very satisfied, very male smile tugged his lips. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Willow?”
She swallowed. “No.” Instinct kept her eyes glued to his.
He cocked his head. “I think you should take your top off.”
“I—what?”
“It’s only fair, seeing as I don’t have one on.”
The statement, of course, drew her gaze to the muscles roping his very fine chest. His nipples were flat, a dark brown that had her hands closing into fists under the water to keep from touching. “That’s because I have breasts.” Well, duh.
He growled, eying said breasts and her own nipples that were currently poking a hole through her swim tank. “Beautiful breasts. Soft and smooth like rich cream.”
“II—” Her IQ plummeted.
One callused hand wrapped around her nape, the other at her back, protecting her from the hard tiled edge of the pool. He moved in, close, closer, still until her breasts were flattened on his hard, bare chest and she had to crane her head up to meet the fierce gleam unmistakable between his heavy lids.
Sexy bedroom eyes, Willow thought just before Ben dipped his head to kiss her, and her mind went blank.
As before, the kiss started slow and sweet. Lips pressing gently to one side of her mouth, then the other before his tongue ran along her lower lip until it trembled open. Those firm lips tasted hers with a playful gentleness, licking and nipping. The sensations, raw and primal, flooded her, causing her breasts to swell, and melting the place between her thighs. Desperate for an anchor, she clenched his hard shoulders and moaned into his mouth, daring to reach out with her own tongue.
The low, deep sound in his throat was her reward and the kiss changed into something harder, hotter. Angling her head to his satisfaction, Ben opened his mouth over her own, thrusting his tongue into the wet cavern, their tongues dancing, dueling, exploring.
His hands were also exploring, no longer holding her but moving with firm, sure strokes along her back, edging ever lower until she felt his hand open wide on her bottom, squeezing and kneading, holding her tight against the thick ridge of his erection. The hand at her nape shifted to hold her throat in a possessive grip for a long beat before he let go, his fingers trailing oh-so-slowly over her collarbone, and down to whisper over the exposed upper slope of her breast. Wanting more, remembering how it felt to have his hands, his mouth, on her, she arched into the caress.
As if sensing what she needed, Ben grazed a knuckle over one pebbled nipple.
She whimpered in need and he did it again, just a quick swipe of his fingers that were gone much too soon. Blinking her eyes open she looked up at Ben, her eyes narrowing at the mix of desire and mischief that sparkled in his.
The bastard was playing with her.
With a frustrated growl, Willow nipped his bottom lip.
“Hey.”
“Stop teasing me,” she grumbled.
“Hmm.” He kissed her collarbone, outlining the shape of her breast with one too-gentle finger. “Something hurt, sweetheart?”
He was going to hurt in a second. “Just kiss me.”
He gave her what she wanted, taking her mouth with hungry petition. Closing a hand over the proud thrust of her breast, he squeezed, catching her cry in his mouth.
Breaking the kiss, he made his way down her throat, nipping at the throbbing beat of her pulse, flicking his thumb over the taut bead of her nipple.
Her entire body jerked in response.
A low groan left his lips. “I want to taste you, Will.”
She shivered, thinking he was tasting her with his mouth moving over throat, his tongue a moist caress against the heated skin. “You are,” she whispered, all but lost to the pleasure coursing through her veins.
A rough chuckle that caused the warm air of his breath to dance over her wet flesh. A sharp shiver nearly brought her to her knees. The hand on her bottom shifted, edged further down, bringing the tips of his long fingers into alignment with the swollen entrance to her body. His hips moved at the same time, the steel of his erection gliding over her mound. “Here, Will. I want to taste you here.”
Her thighs muscles quivered and a soft whimper escaped. God, she was so pathetic. Whimpering and moaning and—“‘K.”
Good Lord! Had she really said that? She was such a slut.
But the single syllable was still echoing as he disappeared beneath the water. Willow felt his hands at her hips, easing the bottoms of her swimsuit down her legs. Large hands spread her and she felt the soft kiss of his cheek on her thigh. Excitement and uncertainty swept through her, to be replaced by unmitigated shock as he rose—and she rose!—from the pool. Water streamed from his hair. She knew because she had fistfuls of it in her hands.