No Strings Attached (23 page)

“ ‘—out the back of my parachute,’ ” she finished for him. “The alien smelled bad, too. That was Will Smith as Captain Steven Hiller. He could’ve been at a barbecue instead of tracking aliens on
Independence Day
.”

“You have an amazing memory.”

“For trivia,” she said with a hint of defeat. “I’m book smart, but life-challenged.”

Sophie knew her limitations. She was shy, uncoordinated, and inordinately fearful. Most people had been around the block at least once by her age. She’d just started down the driveway.

He nudged her shoulder. “Your favorite heroes and villains?”

She didn’t have to think long. “
Silence of the Lambs
would be the scariest pairing with Clarice and Hannibal Lecter. Animation: the 101 Dalmatians were all heroes. Cruella de Vil scared me as a kid. Christopher Reeve as Superman and Sally Field in
Norma Rae
were heroic. Jack Nicholson in
The Shining
and Kathy Bates in
Misery
gave me nightmares.”

“That’s quite a list,” Dune said, impressed.

She caught her breath and blushed. “Sorry to run on,” she apologized.

He turned slightly and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “I’m going with Han Solo and Darth Vadar, although Jabba the Hutt qualified as a villain, too.”

She looked at him for a long moment, as if summing him up. “I bet you have a shelf of Western DVDs.”

“I bet you’re right.” He’d only mentioned cowboys to her once, when he admired her antique pearl-handled six-shooter. Yet she’d remembered. He liked that about her. She focused on what he had to say. “I admire the morality of the Old West and gunslinger justice.”

“Spaghetti Westerns or legends?”

He grinned. “
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly
ranks up there with
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
.”

“I enjoyed
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,
” she said. “It was the first instance John Wayne called someone Pilgrim.”

“What’s your all-time favorite movie?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “There are so many to choose from. Movies I’ve watched over and over. I could go with
Wuthering Heights, Titanic,
or
Funny Girl,
but I’m going to say
Jerry Maguire
.”

“ ‘Show me the money!’ ” said Dune.

“ ‘You had me at ‘hello.’ ”

“You’re a romantic, Sophie Saunders.”

“Romantic but realist.” She leaned back on her palms and swung her feet in the water. The side of her foot brushed his and their ankles bumped.

He looked down in the water. She had small feet and slender calves. Every part of her body was compact.

“Up for a midnight swim?” he asked.

“Up for more coffee?” she countered.

“Half a cup.”

She scooted back several feet before standing. Distance was her safety net from falling in the pool. She picked up his cup, then crossed to the kitchen.

“You’re going in the water,” he called after her.

“Later rather than sooner,” she said from the sliding door.

He’d keep after her. She had a pool in her backyard and a canal beyond. She had easy access to the beach. Knowing how to swim was a safety precaution at any age.

He heard the pad of her bare feet as she came to stand behind him. She bent over and set his cup down near his hip. She went on to rest her hands on his shoulders. He felt the bump of her knees at his back.

What was going on?

The evening was about to shock him. His jaw dropped when Sophie gave him a solid shove. There was no resistance on his part. He was so relaxed he slid into the pool.

Her laughter followed him in. He’d been ambushed. She’d barely gotten her feet wet, yet she had no regrets soaking him to the bone.

Two could play her game. He sank to the bottom in the shallow end and held his breath for a good long time.

What he thought was a joke wasn’t funny to Sophie.

“Dune?” Her voice wavered slightly. “Don’t make me come after you.”

He wished she would jump in. He counted to ten and was about to surface when she entered the pool. He saw her clutch the handrail as she came down the stairs. Her wild, panicky splashing caused waves. She lost sight of him, yet she was so close she stepped on his stomach.

“Dune!”
Her voice was now shrill from worry.

He shot up. The water swirled about his waist, but reached high on her chest. She was pale in the moonlight; bobbing and tearful.

Her tears cut him deep. He mentally kicked himself for playing such a prank. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He pulled her close and rubbed her back.

She punched his arm hard. “Never frighten me like that again.”

He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “You started it. You pushed me in the pool.”

“You pretended to drown.” She collapsed against him. “My heart nearly stopped when you didn’t surface.”

“You tried to save me.” That affected him most. She’d been scared to death, yet braved the pool for him. She was amazing.

He rested his forehead against hers. “For future reference, when you play a prank on someone, chances are good they’ll prank you back.”

“Like you just did to me?”

He nodded. “You didn’t have a lot of playmates as a kid, whereas I grew up with three brothers and a sister. They specialized in practical jokes, stupid stunts, and getting back at each other. Had I faked drowning with Zane, he would’ve dropped an anchor on my chest.”

She sighed against him, her relief evident.

Awareness next came into play. The surface of the pool was smooth as glass and the night still around them. Clouds crossed the moon and darkness allowed them privacy.

Time alone was good.

He lowered his hands to her bottom and cupped her butt cheeks. They fit small in his palms. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her legs wrapped around his hips. Their wet clothes stuck together. Their position was one of intimacy and arousal. It was time for him to make a move, or get out of the pool and call it a night.

He hadn’t finished his coffee.

He wanted to start something with Sophie.

That something began with a kiss.

Ten

S
ophie Saunders was about to be kissed. She sensed the sexual shift in Dune the moment he clutched her bottom and fit her to him. Her arms now wrapped his neck, with her legs around his waist. She breathed in his scent, male and midnight. She felt the solidness of his chest and flatness of his abdomen. His breath hitched when she settled against his groin. His erection was impressive.

Holding her tight, he walked her to the side of the pool and set her near the handrail. He stepped between her thighs. The bottom of the pool was sloped. Their difference in height no longer mattered. They connected in all the right places.

His body excited her as much as his kiss. He caught her hair in his hands and angled her face to his. He claimed her mouth with gentle reserve. Her response was tentative yet instinctive.

He initiated and she imitated, wanting to please him. He groaned deep in his throat when she nipped the corners of his mouth. She flicked her tongue along his upper lip and he sucked on her lower. When she bit his jaw, he bit her back. He grew so taut, his muscles bunched.

He didn’t rush her. He was a man of slow kisses and slower hands. She felt flushed and tingly. Sensation heightened when he slipped his tongue between her lips. His mouth was warm and moist and he tasted of sweet cream. Slow then fast, he built a mating rhythm with his tongue that left her heart pounding at an amazing rate.

Dune pushed and rubbed against her. The intimate introduction of his body left her breasts heavy and swollen and intensified the sexual ache between her thighs. She melted a little.

Years of longing compelled her to stroke his neck and shoulders; to run her hands down his sides and under his T-shirt. The heat of his skin inspired her to break their kiss just long enough to work his shirt up and over his head. Dune tossed it aside.

Sophie flattened her palms on his broad chest patterned with light brown hair. He was both rough and smooth. His heart beat steadily beneath her fingers, giving a significant skip when she brushed her thumb over his male nipple.

He was hard everywhere—the muscles along his shoulders, his biceps, his six-pack, his penis. Even his back was riveting.

Dune let her kiss him until she was dazed and her lips felt numb. He then unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra in two smooth moves. She was now bare to him. A light breeze blew on her breasts and she shivered.

He warmed her with his breath. “So soft,” he said. Desire roughened his voice as he kissed the hollow where her neck and shoulder met. He nipped the sensitive skin above her right breast, then took her nipple into his mouth and tugged lightly. Sensation shot to her belly. Arousal settled between her thighs. She grew restless. Female instinct rocked her hips.

Slowly, slowly, he grazed her ribs and goose bumps rose. He traced the sensitive flesh at her belly and she trembled. He squeezed her thighs and she nearly came out of her skin.

He watched her so closely, so intently, that the skin pulled tightly over his cheekbones. The hollows in his cheeks deepened. His nostrils flared and she heard the depth of his breath.

Impatience played between them.

She clutched his arms so tight that her nails left crescent moons on his skin. Her scalp tingled and her palms itched. Her stomach fluttered. The widespread position of her legs left her vulnerable. She found it difficult to sit still.

He drew out their foreplay, running his hands up and down her back, then over her bottom and down her thighs. When his hands again settled on her hips, he lowered the side zipper on her slacks and folded back the waistband, exposing her bikini panties.

Her body flushed. Not from embarrassment, but from need. She wanted this man. His touch assured her that he wanted her, too. His long fingers splayed low on her stomach. She worried her tummy wasn’t flat, that it was slightly rounded. Now was not the moment to suck it in.

Dune didn’t seem to notice. Her worries faded when he caressed the crease of her sex through the pale blue nylon.

She was wet in seconds.

Passion pushed her against his palm. He delved beneath the elastic. She gasped, then stiffened as he separated her. He stroked and coaxed, creating a physical ache so strong that everything around them blurred. Her breath became short, hot pants. She felt very female, very sexual. She was close,
so
close to coming . . .

Her neck arched and stars danced behind her eyes. The feeling was indescribable. A final thrust of his finger and raw sensation overtook her. The orgasm shook her. She felt mindless, boneless, and liquid. The aftershocks curled her toes.

She forced air into her lungs and slowly focused. The sight of Dune standing bone hard before her returned her to reality. She blushed, then clutched the front of her blouse together. “I came, you didn’t.” Her voice sounded breathy.

“No condom, Sophie.”

“You bought a box at Crabby Abby’s.” She’d rung up his sale.

His jaw worked. “The box is at my grandfather’s. I wasn’t prepared for tonight.”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “Anything I can do?”

He shook his head. “To be continued.”

She sensed his struggle and knew the immense amount of willpower it took for him to step back. He moved into deeper water, where he fell facedown and went into the dead man’s float.

His body drifted in the moonlight. Every so often he lifted his head and drew air. He eventually flipped onto his back. His face was cut in shadow. His bare chest rose and fell; his breathing was now even.

She hooked her bra and buttoned her blouse, then slowly kicked her feet. The surface rippled. The motion caught his attention. He stood up in the middle of the shallow end. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders. Water sluiced down his body. He was still hard, but not nearly the size of moments ago.

She wasn’t certain what to say. “More coffee?” she asked.

His expression was half-amused, half-painful. “Let’s call it a night,” he said.

He didn’t use the steps or support rail. Instead he flattened his hands on the side of the pool and hoisted himself out of the water. Rivulets ran off him and onto her. She sat in a puddle.

He bent down and offered her his hand. She took it. He drew her to him. She dipped her head. They stood toe-to-toe, not touching but embraced by the same space.

“Look at me, Sophie,” he said, his tone gentle. “Never be embarrassed around me.”

She met his gaze. “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine,” he assured her. He scooped up his wet T-shirt and sandals. “Walk me out?”

She gathered two fluffy blue towels from the outside cabana cabinet and passed him one. He made a few quick swipes to his face and across his chest, then tossed it over one shoulder. He picked up his T-shirt and sandals.

They left a watery trail across the pool deck, through the kitchen, and down the marble entrance hall. “This isn’t great timing,” he told her at the door. “I leave tomorrow for Tampa. I sponsor several volleyball camps throughout the summer and I always make at least one appearance. While I’d rather spend time with you, my activities coordinator Will Stacy is expecting me.”

“How long will you be gone?” she asked.

“Two days max.”

She nodded, not wanting him to leave, but knowing he had a commitment.

He gave her a kiss at the front door, one that was light and left her wanting.

“See you soon.” Then he slipped out.

Two days ran into three, and Dune had yet to return. Sophie couldn’t help noticing that Mac James came around. It was hard not to miss him. He hadn’t officially set foot in the T-shirt shop, but he did a lot of pacing on the boardwalk. She’d seen him eating ice cream, chocolate churros, and pizza through the front window. He hung out so often he’d become a fixture.

Jen gave no sign of seeing him. She still held a grudge against him from Twilight Bazaar. No matter how many times Sophie rehashed their conversation, she couldn’t pinpoint what Mac had said that ticked Jen off. Yet something definitely had.