No Strings Attached (28 page)

He ran his hands down her back and cupped her bottom. He needed to distract her. He shifted the conversation from the pool to her pedicab tours. He rested his forehead against hers and asked, “Any soreness from pedaling?”

She leaned back slightly. “Shaye limited my tours. I only did three. She mentioned buying a trolley so I could ride easily and reach more tourists.”

“That’s my sister, the businesswoman. She’s always thinking of ways to benefit our town,” he said as he eased the two of them beyond the stairs. He hoped Sophie wouldn’t notice. She didn’t. Not yet anyway.

“I made sixty dollars in tips,” Sophie said. “I plan to give the money to the animal shelter.”

“They’ll appreciate every dime.”

“I stopped by Three Shirts and paid Randy before I left the boardwalk. He bought his sunglasses and a T-shirt for his sister. He plans to purchase something for his father with his next paycheck.”

“Speaking of his dad,” Dune began. She’d given him the perfect opening to convey his conversation with the mayor. “My uncle wanted me to pass on a message.” He laid out James’s plans for the museum.

Sophie had loosened her death grip on him by the time he finished. She was wide-eyed and interested. “Barefoot William deserves a museum,” she agreed. “I’m honored James thought of me for the curator.”

“Stop by his office for the details,” Dune said.

“I will tomorrow.”

Water sloshed between them. She looked around. “No deeper, Dune.”

Busted. He kissed her at that moment to take her mind off the depth of the water. Her breath was sweet and moist. For all her fears, Sophie liked kissing. She slipped him her tongue. Dune let her tease and taste. She took pleasure in his mouth.

He slowly broke their kiss. “Back to your swimming lesson,” he said. “It’s time for you to stand on your own.”

“How deep are we?”

“The water will reach your chest.”

She glanced down on her breasts. “I’m not feeling very buoyant.”

Dune chuckled. Sophie had a quirky sense of humor. She’d begun to relax. He released her, and she slid down his body. The slide was pure torment. Every inch of her brushed and bumped and he became as hard as her kickboard. He pushed back a step.

Panic flashed in her eyes. “Don’t leave me, Dune.”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “It’s time for you to bounce a little, get a feel for the water.”

Her bounces were controlled. He figured most of the ripples were caused by the shakiness of her body. It was slow going, but Dune had all night. He’d stick it out until Sophie learned the basics and she could survive in the pool on her own.

She was receptive and did her best to follow his instructions. Dune credited her for all she attempted. He taught her breathing techniques and how to float. She struggled through the arm strokes and kicking and developed her own style of swimming.

He finally stood off to the side and let her go it alone. Sophie couldn’t swim a straight line. She zigzagged back and forth across the shallow end. She kicked like a champion, but she had little momentum.

She wore herself out. She clung to the side of the pool, hung her head, and exhaled. “I’m tired,” she said.

He’d grown weary just watching her. “Let’s call it a night.”

She scooted her hands along the edge toward the handrail. She was halfway there when he saw her face contort. She hunched over as if she were in pain. What had happened?

He made a mad splash through the water to reach her. “Sophie, are you okay?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He circled her waist and lifted her up onto the side of the pool. “Where does it hurt?” he asked.

“A cramp. My left calf.” Her voice shook.

He ran his hands from her knee to her ankle, kneading, palming, and seeking the knot. He made several attempts to find it, but he felt nothing but her smooth skin.

“Flex your foot up, then straighten it.”

She did. “It hurts.” She closed her eyes, moaned.

Dune studied her. Something was off. Her moan didn’t sound real. It seemed forced and robotic. What the hell? He caught her squint and knew instantly she was playing him.

He ran one hand down his face. “You got me good,” was all he could say.

She bent her knee, placed her foot on his chest, and shoved. He flopped back and flailed his arms for effect. She grinned. “When you prank someone, chances are good they’ll prank you back.” She tossed his words back in his face.

He’d started it and she’d finished it. He’d fooled her when he’d pretended to drown, but Sweet Sophie now pulled her own practical joke. He liked this side of her. She seemed quite pleased with herself, too.

She inched toward the handrail and started up the steps. Dune caught her from behind and dragged her back into the pool. She slipped underwater. She came up sputtering. He tucked her into his body. She squirmed, then settled against his chest, her legs wrapped around his hips. He shifted his stance and she went suddenly still.

“You poked me,” she said.

“No, I didn’t.”

Then he realized he had. Sophie turned him on and his dick was rigid. The head of his penis now bumped her sex. She was fascinated by their fit in the water. It wouldn’t take much to slip off her bikini bottoms, drop his board shorts, and slip inside her.

That would be too quick.

He wanted their first time to be as close to perfect as he could make it. She deserved a lot of foreplay.

“That’s just the nature of the beast,” he said ruefully. “I want you, and my body gives me away.”

He’d expected her to blush, but she surprised him. “I like a sure sign in a man,” she said softly. “There’s no mistaking your need.”

He looked down on her. Her pulse quickened at the base of her throat and her nipples puckered. Female instinct rocked her hips. She was as ready for him as he was for her.

The time was now.

“Your bedroom?” he asked.

“Follow the hamster ball,” she said. “I just saw their shadows pass the sliders.”

Twelve

S
ophie Saunders was going to have sex with Dune Cates, a man she’d been crazy about since she was seven. Her pulse raced as he lifted her out of the water and held her high against his chest. She circled his neck with her arms. Water droplets glistened on his slicked-back hair. Their wet bodies were warm and slippery.

He climbed the pool steps and carried her easily across the deck. He twisted slightly so she could open, then close, the sliding doors.

Awareness came in a look, a touch, a softly spoken word. Dune told her she was beautiful and special and that he was so stiff he could barely walk.

He made it to the front door and found his athletic bag. He scooted it along with his foot. He was over a head taller than Sophie and his shoulders were twice as wide. She rested her cheek against the solid wall of his damp chest and heard the steady beat of his heart. His forearm secured her bottom. She looked up as he glanced down. He stopped in the hallway and kissed her.

His kisses started light as air. Still, she shivered. He kissed her cheek and behind her ear, just barely teasing her. Sophie followed his lead and did what came naturally to her. She kissed his chin and neck, then flicked her tongue to the pulse point at the base of his throat. His scent hinted of chlorine, lime, and man. Clean and masculine. His groan rose from deep in his chest. A guttural, turned-on sound.

His kisses grew deeper. He was patient yet insistent. He drew her beyond what she expected or had ever known. She was naïve, but not shy. She’d grown up afraid of crowds, the Gulf, and her shadow. She’d never feared Dune Cates. And she’d never feared sex.

He was as into her as she was into him. He broadened his stance and braced his back against the wall long before they reached her bedroom. He positioned her so her legs wrapped his waist. He ran his fingers down her rib cage, at first with infinite care, then with male craving.

His hands clutched her hips and his thumbs teased her belly. He touched the sensitive back of her thighs, then stroked the crease behind each knee.

He squeezed her bottom.

Flush against him, she felt every inch of his maleness. He was stiff and substantial; a man in his prime.

She wasn’t tentative. She trusted him. She touched him instinctively. She ran her hands through his hair, then drew her thumbs across his cheekbones. She traced the powerful set of his shoulders. He was all warm skin and seductive muscle. She feathered her fingers over his chest hair, scraped a nail across his abdomen. He inhaled sharply.

She tightened her thighs and melted against him.

He eventually pushed off the wall and continued down the hall. He shoved the athletic bag ahead of them with his foot. He walked slowly and they continued to kiss.

He lifted his head slightly as they neared the end of the hallway. “Your bedroom?” he asked.

“Last room on the right.”

He kissed her all the way to the master suite. They slowly broke apart when they entered the room. Dune went very still as he took in the surroundings. Sophie looked at the large room as she imagined he saw it. History rose from the floor to the ceiling. It was a bit intimidating, even to a confident man.

“Damn, Sophie.” He set her down and took her hand. “You’re a Renaissance woman.” His voice was low and amazed. “That’s one massive bed.”

She understood his astonishment. She was far from frivolous, but she valued a good night’s sleep. She’d invested in a luxurious antique bedroom set, which included a grand four-poster of dark wood and marble overlay. Thick Corinthian columns with fluted tops stood at each end. The headboard was wide and intricately carved. The top of the board arched nearly to the ceiling. She’d chosen sconces over lamps and overhead lighting. Two sconces were attached to the headboard.

She’d made her bed with earth tones: taupe sheets and a brown satin comforter. Decorative and European sham pillows in green and gold were propped against the headboard. A plush, leather-padded bench with scroll arms banked the foot of the bed. Oriental runners covered the chocolate marble floors.

Two polished burl armoires bordered her blue brocade fainting couch along the far wall. A swinging floor mirror in a wide wooden frame was positioned near a window with eastern exposure. Sophie often laid in bed and watched the sun rise. She looked over at Dune. He was someone worth waking up beside in the morning. She hoped he would stay the night.

“Take a minute to look around,” she offered. She needed to catch her breath after all their kissing.

He shook his head and turned back to her. His eyes warmed and his smile spread. “I’d rather look at you.”

He fixed his gaze on her and he never looked away. Action, then reaction. He wanted to see how his touch affected her. Her emotions were easily read. She’d never been able to hide her feelings.

He bent down and lightly kissed her brow, the curve of her chin, then her breastbone. His hand found its way under her tankini top. He stroked upward and palmed her breast. She went soft inside. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her heart beat faster.

His long fingers next stretched to her shoulders. The thin straps on her swimsuit gave way. The top was damp, yet loose and easy to slide. It tipped on one nipple and the point of her hip on its way down, pooling at her feet.

She stood before Dune in her bikini bottom.

She felt overly exposed.

He comforted and supported her. “You’re beautiful, Sophie.” His voice was as deep and strong as an embrace.

He lowered to one knee and ran his forefinger between her breasts. He bent his head, licked a nipple, and the tip puckered. She blushed when he kissed his way down the center of her body. Dampness gathered between her thighs.

“So soft, so sexy,” Dune breathed against her belly.

He gently removed her swimsuit bottom. She stood naked before him. A sparkling water droplet rolled down her breast and caught on her nipple. Another one glided down to her belly. A third glistened like a diamond in her triangle of curls. Dune removed the droplets with the edge of his thumb.

Shyness dipped her head and she tried to cover herself with her hands.

He nipped her inner thigh. “No hiding, Sophie.”

Her hands fell to her sides. “I want to see you, too,” she said.

He pushed to his feet and let her take over.

They communicated through their chemistry. He was hot for her and she felt lit up from the inside out. She’d waited her entire life for him to find her and make love to her.

Touching Dune seemed right somehow. She wasn’t tentative or clumsy. She was straightforward and curious as she explored his big body.

She loved the texture of his skin; the underlying flex of his muscles. She rose on tiptoe to bite his shoulder, then tongue his male nipples. She fanned her hands over his abdomen. Her fingers shook as she removed his board shorts. She stared at him then. She couldn’t help herself. Sculpted and symmetrical, he stood tall and firm; magnificent in her eyes and larger than life.

She caught her breath and gave his erection the attention it deserved. She held him with great care. She stroked and his hips rocked. His penis heated between her palms. His low groan pleased her.

Sophie knew her limitations. She could never be a temptress; never hold sexual power over any man. But she would give her last breath to satisfy Dune. She wanted him that badly. She felt sexy and a little reckless with this man.

She could no longer show restraint or hold back her increasing urges. Neither could he.

Dune tossed his athletic bag toward the bed, then took her in his arms. He walked her across the floor until her calves bumped the wooden sidebar. He guided her down until she lay on her back. He settled beside her.

His mouth sealed with hers, again and again. His teeth teased her lower lip. Her eyelids fluttered closed. His kiss was sensual and molten, stirring her soul and heightening her arousal.

He made her feel special.

His hand slid down the length of her body. His long fingers stretched and searched, his palm pressing hotly into her abdomen. He stroked her wetness, then inserted the tip of one finger. She tensed until his knuckle hit a spot that made her moan. She lifted her hips instinctively, a wave of intense pleasure reaching deep down inside her.