Riding the Waves

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A part of him wanted to haul her to her feet and drag her off to the nearest private spot and give in to his body’s demands. But he couldn’t. Well, he acknowledged as his erection throbbed in painful protest, he could. But he wouldn’t.

Forcing himself to be patient was about the hardest thing Alex had ever done. Almost as hard as his dick, pressing in supplication against Drucilla’s thigh. But he wanted more than a hot dance in the sand with her. He wanted as much as he could get.

“How about we clean up, go to dinner?” he asked, his words husky and rough. “Maybe some dancing later?”

She blinked up at him, her indigo eyes shifting from blurry to contemplative. She was shaded from the glare of the late-afternoon sun by his shadow, but the light still glinted off the water sparkling on her lush eyelashes.

She opened her mouth to respond, then pursed her lips, scanning his face as if looking for the answer to the mysteries of the universe. Then she gave a deep sigh. Alex almost groaned as the move pressed her breasts, with their rock-hard nipples, against his chest.

“How about we skip the dinner and dancing and just go back to my bungalow?” she invited softly. Her words were breathless, nervous. But the assurance in her eyes told him she meant what she said.

Alex’s mind exploded with the image of the two of them, naked beneath a shower’s spray, sliding their soapy hands over each other’s bodies to wash away the salt and sand.

His dick, already straining and impatient, jumped a little at the mental picture. His mind, already formulating an acceptance, thrilled at the invitation.

But his mouth, dammit, was operating on its own.

“Let’s do both,” he said before he could stop the words. His mind immediately scrambled to find a way to retract the words.

Drucilla’s eyes went soft, something sweet and humbling flashing in their depths. It was that look that instantly put an end to any attempted retraction.

Alex gave a soft laugh and rested his forehead against hers, briefly closing his eyes and sucking in a deep, fortifying breath. God, he was known for his mental acuity, his brilliance, some even said. And here he was turning his back on loose-and-wild sex in exchange for a more meaningful connection. Insane.

“Let’s do dinner,” he suggested, reluctantly pulling away from her warmth. Instantly chilled now that his still-wet body was exposed to the air, he shivered a little as he pushed himself to his feet. Reaching down, he took her hand to help her up.

The momentum of the move had the exact effect he’d hoped. She landed against him. Alex’s arms wrapped around her, his erection tight against her belly. He grinned down into her inquiring face.

“We’ll save the dancing for private.”

4

DRU WATCHED HERSELF in the mirror as she tied the satin strings of her halter behind her neck. The teal-and-amethyst-patterned fabric made her skin glow. Or maybe that was the sun she’d gotten that afternoon. The smooth material cupped her breasts, making it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She stepped back to get a full-length view, turning this way and that to see if her panty line showed. Barely. That was good, wasn’t it? She knew the underwear rules at home. Wear it. Simple enough. But vacation-underwear rules? And what about the wanting-to-have-sex-tonight rule modification?

She expected the lack of a bra would clearly indicate her interest in sex. But she wasn’t quite brave enough to go commando, so she hoped her barely there panty line wouldn’t be a turnoff.

This, she realized, was why she sucked at the flirtation thing. She obsessed over trivial details. She didn’t know the rules, the right way to play the game. She smoothed her hand over her hip and gave a ragged sigh. What she wouldn’t give to discuss interstellar gases and dust clouds at this point.

It wasn’t until she went to twist her hair into a knot that she noticed her hands were shaking. Dru looked at her reflection, noting the dilated eyes beneath her smoky shadow, the bare lower lip where she’d already chewed off her lipstick and the rapid pulse fluttering at her throat.

She dropped her hands, letting her hair fall like a pale curtain over her shoulders. She’d leave it down. The better to hide behind, she hoped.

She glanced at the clock: 5:55. Alex would be here in five minutes. Resorting to her test-anxiety cure, she picked up her brush and started running it through her hair. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of the bristles, on her breath moving gently in and out. She let her mind empty. Drew in relaxation and a sense of peace.

The tension seeped out of her shoulders. The butterflies in her stomach landed. Ahhh, there it was. That sweet sense of tranquillity. Perfect.

There was a knock at the door. Dru gave a loud gasp. The brush flew out of her hands, ricocheted off the mirror and slid across the bureau with a loud bang.

Apparently she couldn’t have both inner peace and a wild vacation fling. She sucked in a shaky breath before quickly slicking color back over her lower lip with a quivering hand. With a smacking motion, she blew her reflection a kiss for luck and headed for the door.

She pressed a hand to her stomach. Then, with a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and pulled open the door.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly.

“Hi back.”

Oh, baby. Alex was gorgeous. So far she’d only seen his hair in wet curls or casual waves falling around his face. Tonight it was swept back in a way that accented his cheekbones and emphasized his melt-her-insides midnight-dark eyes.

His white shirt was open at the collar and buttoned at the cuffs, paired with black slacks and dress shoes. Typical date attire, evening casual. The look should have been staid, maybe a little cookie-cutter.

Maybe it was the intense, edgy lust clawing at her belly that had her wondering how the crisp white cotton would feel under her hands if she stroked his chest. How the zipper would feel as she tugged it down. If his clothes carried the same delicious scent she’d smelled on his skin when they’d kissed that afternoon.

Whether he wore boxers or briefs.

Her anxiety melted away in the heat of pure lust.

“Wow,” he said, his tone husky as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame and gave her a slow, seductive smile. The kind of smile that promised that he could deliver on her every fantasy. “You look gorgeous.”

“Come in,” she invited, her mind racing with possibilities. Her brain was disengaged, all her earlier concerns over common ground disintegrated. Who needed similar interests to talk about? All she could think about now was sex. With Alex. To have that, she just needed a simple plan. Entice him, entertain him, engage him.

In other words, get him naked as quickly as possible.

He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. As he did, he handed her a single bloom. Brilliant red, it was huge and fragrant. And so, so sweet.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly.

Dru took the lily, her hands brushing Alex’s as her eyes met his. Her heart stuttered. No guy had ever brought her flowers. Once in a while one would bring her a science journal, but only if they had an article featured in it.

“I love flowers,” she blurted out as she held the fragrant blossom to her nose with a smile. “My mom does a lot of container gardening, but she’s always grown herbs and vegetables, never flowers.”

Alex followed her to the small living room and, at her gesture, sat on the cushioned rattan settee while Dru found a glass at the wet bar and filled it with water for the flower.

“Wine?” she asked, lifting the bottle she’d put on ice. Just in case.

“Sure.”

She pulled the cork and poured them both a glass, and was proud to see her hand was steady.

“Does your mom live in an apartment?” he asked with a friendly smile.

Dru almost dropped her wine. Olympia Robichoux, in an apartment? With all those other people around, sharing walls and noise? Hardly. Olympia had always insisted on a house, no matter what their financial situation. A house was more regal, she said. That they were easier to sneak out of went without saying. Shrugging off the tension that thoughts of her mother always induced, Dru handed Alex his wine before taking a fortifying sip of her own.

“No. My parents just moved a lot,” she told him as she settled next to him on the settee. It sounded better than sharing her family’s eviction records. As always, she stuffed the childhood anger, resentment and dregs of loneliness away in a tidy little box in her mind labeled “off-limits.” “My mother kept everything she needed portable. But my dad wanted his fresh tomatoes, so he had to lug those huge clay pots with them from house to house.”

“Is he still lugging them?”

“My dad’s gone,” she said with a smile to acknowledge the sympathetic way he rubbed her knee. “Mom bought a house three years ago, so her gypsy days are over.”

Well, technically, she’d helped her mom buy the house. It’d been crazy, given that she’d just bought her own condo. But her mom had needed a home. One she could actually settle in and trust would never be torn out from under her. The choice had been to buy one or move Olympia into the condo.