Read Just a Kiss Away Online

Authors: Jill Barnett

Just a Kiss Away (42 page)

Chapter 23
 

Sam stood in the pool waiting for her. “Are you going to come in here or stand there all night.”

“Yes, I believe I will—stand here, that is. I’ve changed my mind.” Lollie stood at the rim of the pool, wearing only the cotton knit sleeveless undershirt and half drawers while she looked at the water. She felt as if it would swallow her whole. In fact, water had already done it once to her today. It seemed downright stupid to willingly get in that cauldron of a pool and chance it again. “I’ll just see about Medusa.” She turned and started to walk to the bird’s makeshift perch.

“Snnnort! Snno-ork-nork . . .”

Rats! Medusa was asleep.

“Doesn’t sound like she needs you, right now,” Sam announced in a wry tone.

She’d run out of excuses.

“You know how I learned to swim?” Sam swam one-armed out into the pool and stopped in the middle, managing somehow to stay above water.

“How?”

“My uncle threw me off the end of a pier in Lake Michigan, then turned around and walked home. Either I swam or I drowned.”

“Your own uncle?”

“Yeah. Now, you and I, on the other hand”—his face took on a menacing look—“aren’t related.” He swam back toward the edge of the pool, where it was shallow and he could stand.

She didn’t like the look in his eye, so she backed up a bit.

“Come on, Lollipop. Or I might have to play uncle.”

“I’m scared.”

“That’s okay, be scared. A little fear is good for you, but doubt isn’t. Remember how many people learn to swim every day. If everyone else can do it, so can you. Right?”

“I guess.”

“Right?” he almost shouted.

“Right!”

“That’s better. Now tell me something.”

“What?”

“How do people swim?”

“Well, that’s a silly question. I don’t know how they swim. If I did I wouldn’t be scared.”

“Let
me rephrase that.” He leaned his arms on the rock edge and watched her. “What do you see people doing when they swim?”

“Swimming.”

“Describe it, Lollie.”

“They just swim.” She didn’t know what he was talking about, and she didn’t understand the perturbed look on his face. He looked as if he was counting again.

“Watch me.” He swam out into the pool, turned, and swam back. “What did I do? And don’t say ‘you swam.’”

She thought about it for a minute, then answered, “You kicked your feet and slapped your arms in the water.”

“Ah,” he muttered, “the bell chimed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind. I used my arms and legs, right?” His voice was very slow and patient.

“Right.”

“And you have arms and legs, right?” He gave her a strained smile that made his cheek twitch a little.

“Right.” She watched him, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“So you can swim, right?”

“Wrong.”

“Why the hell not?” he yelled.

“Because I don’t know how!” she yelled back.

“And I can’t teach you unless you get in this goddamn pool! So move!”

“I’m scared.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then he shrugged as if he didn’t care. “I guess you are a failure.”

She gritted her teeth. Her pride really hated to hear that. It hadn’t sounded so bad when she’d been crying and feeling sorry for herself, but hearing it from him . . . well, that wasn’t easy to take. She didn’t want Sam to think of her as a failure. She sighed, a long one, then sighed again.

He muttered something and started to get out.

“Wait, I’m coming.” She walked to the pool and stood there, getting all swimmy-headed—an appropriate term—just looking down at that dark, steamy water.

“Sit on the edge and let your legs dangle in the water, to get used to it.” He moved in front of her and held her hand while she sat down.

Very slowly she inched her feet into the water. “A little more . . .”

She lowered her feet until her calves were in the pool.

“Good. Now I’m going to put my hands on your waist, and you slide into the water. I won’t let you go under, I promise.”

His hands closed around her waist and she squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could. She immediately clamped a death grip on his bare shoulder.

“Ouch!” he grunted.

“Did I hurt your wound?”

“No, it’s fine. Could you loosen your grip a little? Ah, that’s better. Lollie?”

“What?”

“Open your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So you can see me.”

“Why?”

“So you can learn to swim,” he said through gritted teeth.

Her eyes flew open, but her hands immediately tightened on his bare skin again, and her legs clamped like a vise around his waist.

“Something tells me you’re not feeling very confident.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re cutting off my blood flow.”

“Oh.” She loosened her hands and let her legs relax a bit, but kept whipping her head around looking over her shoulders.

“Let’s try something else,” he suggested. “Put your arms around my neck, tightly. It’s okay. I’ll hold you with my arm against my hip, and I’ll dip down until only our heads are above water. You just let your body hang in the water and get used to the feel of it. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Unclamp your legs, Lollie.”

“Oh,” She glanced down at their position. She felt better when she had a good hold of him. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Slowly she let her legs go limp in the water.

He walked around the pool, near the edge for the longest time, patiently holding her in the water. Soon her body swirled with each motion and she wasn’t feeling so tense. It was kind of fun.

She laughed. “This isn’t so bad.”

“I think you’re ready to learn to float. I’m going to put my arms under you, as if I’m lifting you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He slid his large arm around her back, then slid the other one behind her knees. The minute she felt his hard forearm and the prick of hair on the skin behind her knees her stomach dove. She stiffened.

“I’m not going to drop you,” he said patiently, misunderstanding her reaction.

She tried to shift her legs so the cotton drawers would protect her skin from his.

“Stop squirming around or you might slip.” He shifted his hold a little and lowered her upper body into the water. “I won’t drop you, so straighten your legs and let your arms drift out to the sides . . . . That’s right. Now put your head back. Loosen your neck; it’s too stiff. Pretend you’re lying on a soft bed, and let the water support you. My arms will stay right below so you can’t sink. Just relax.”

She closed her eyes and let the warm water lap softly around her body. It felt heavenly.

He groaned under his breath, and she opened her eyes. He wasn’t looking at her face. His gaze was on her body. He must be watching to see if I’m going to sink, she thought, and closed her eyes again. “That feels nice.”

Hmm.”

“It’s so warm and wet.”

He groaned again.

She looked at him. “Are you all right?”

He took a long, deep breath and tore his gaze away from her body. He didn’t answer her; he just watched her face. Then he finally said, “I’m going to let my arms fall away. Don’t stiffen,” he warned, then muttered something about enough things being stiff.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just stay relaxed.” He stooped down in the water until his face was level with her body. His arms fell away.

She floated. “I did it! Look, Sam! I’m doing it!”

“Yeah,” he said, “I think you are going to do it.” He closed his eye and took a deep breath.

“Let me try it by myself.”

“Go ahead, but it’s not going to be as much fun.” He smiled then, as if he knew something she didn’t, which worried her.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, but not with you. Don’t worry about it. Go ahead. I’ll just stand here and . . . uh . . . watch.” With the fire in the cave flickering gold behind him he leaned against the side of the pool, his elbows resting on either side of him, and he did watch. She could feel the heat of his gaze every time she drifted by. She mastered kicking so she could float across the entire pool; then she floated back to him, grabbed the side, and smiled up at him. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He didn’t say a word, just watched her as if he were fighting something. His cheek twitched a good one. “Aren’t you gonna teach me more?”

“Yeah, Lollipop, I think I’m going to teach you a lot more.”

“Good. Let’s do it now.”

He stood there for the longest time. Then he stepped toward her, lifted her straight up in the air, and held her high above him.

“What are you doing?”

His gaze drifted down from her face to her chest, his look heated. She glanced down and liked to died. She could see right through her underwear, see the nubs of her budded breasts, her navel, and the darker shadow of private hair between her legs. She gasped, “Oh, my Gawd . . .”

He pulled her open mouth down to his and kissed her hard, as if the drive to do so was beyond his control. “You taste like whiskey—fine aged whiskey.”

“Oh . . . Sam.”

Then his mouth was on her again, drinking her flavor. He slid her down his body in slow inches until all she could do was cling to his neck. His body felt so good against hers. It made her insides weak and made her never want to let go.

His hand still held her head to his hungry mouth, but his other hand skimmed a chilling path down to her hips, over her fanny; then he pressed her against him, moving his hips with hers, slowly. She caught his rhythm and moved her hips in answer. His hand roved upward again, gripped her undershirt, and suddenly jerked it off her right shoulder, shoving it down until it was under her breast. He pulled away from her mouth and looked down. He moaned, and the sound floated over her like a teasing hand.

He lifted her above him so his mouth could draw on that breast. Her head fell back, and she reveled in the rough sensation of his tongue flicking her hard nipple. Just when she thought she would scream with the need for something more—a harder touch, something—he opened his mouth wide and sucked so hard that half her breast entered his warm pulling mouth and grazed against his teeth. She moaned until his tongue filled her mouth again, swirling and retreating, only to flick over her lips and teeth in a slow tease.

He tore the other side of the shirt down, and both of his hands closed over her bottom, pulling her hard against the tight male knot beneath his own underwear. He pushed up against her, the same place he’d touched and fingered and dipped into, the same place he’d said was so hot. It felt on fire, deep deep fire. She clasped her ankles around him, not from fear of falling into the water but to try to move against him.

He laid her back on the edge of the pool and started to pull off her clothes. She grabbed his wrist and looked at him, unsure. His gaze never left hers, but he let go of the wad of clothes at her waist and let his fingers trail down to her cloth-covered thighs, stroking her, yet never touching her center. He rubbed both palms from the insides of her knees upward, slowly, stopping at the hollows of her upper thighs. He ran his fingers across the wet cotton, never touching her aching center, teasing. His gaze never left hers. She felt as if he watched every moan escape her dry lips, and she moaned every time he brushed against her. He seemed to watch every reaction on her face, and he stroked ever more slowly.

His right hand drifted to her waist and fingered the ties, then slowly pulled them free. He pulled off her shirt and drawers and flung them on the rocks behind her. He touched her then, with one slow finger. She cried it felt so good.

He pressed his hot callused palm against her and cupped her, then pressed and cupped again, until finally he slid his finger into her. Tears streamed from her eyes over her temples. His thumb circled and flicked the point of her over and over, and another finger stretched inside, and then he moved them in and out until she rose higher and higher.

He leaned over her, his face just inches from hers. His fingers kept on moving, faster and faster. His lips brushed hers, catching her quick breaths.

“Come on, sweet. Come now,” he whispered, and his fingers pushed in and his thumb pressed down.

Lollie screamed into his mouth, her body pulsing in thick throbs of the most exquisite death.

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