sensations of skin, silk and water brought a groan from deep in his throat.
Her tongue answered his, and her hands grasped his shoulders, small fingers digging erotically into his tightening muscles. He cradled her bottom, lifting her easily, pulling her against him as she bobbed in the cool water. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and his body reflexively arched against hers. He cursed the fabric separating them.
She moaned his name, and he felt himself move to the ragged edge of control.
“Not here,” he managed to say, but he kissed her longer and harder and deeper.
“Then-”
His hand closed over her pert breast, and she gasped out loud.
The stairs were only a few feet away. He could do this. He moved toward them.
Without breaking the kiss, he mounted the short staircase in the shallow end of the pool. He carried her across the deck, past the towel rack, snagging his running shorts before taking her into the dark warm depths and privacy of the pool house.
She drew back, blinking her glazed eyes before glancing at the daybed in the small, dimly lit room. She seemed to hesitate. “This is a bad-”
He strummed the pad of his thumb across her swollen nipple, and she sucked in a breath. Her thighs convulsively tightened around him, and he felt a shot of raw lust cascade through his body.
He already knew this was a bad idea.
It was a terribly stupid, reckless idea.
But he was far past caring.
He captured her mouth with his, kissing her deeper still. His hands slid over her satiny skin. He inhaled her scent, tasted the sweetness of her mouth, groaned in near ecstasy when her small hands stroked from his chest to his waist and below.
He sat back on the daybed, flicked the clasp of her bra, then tossed the delicate garment aside.
“You are gorgeous,” he groaned, caressing her breasts all over again.
She tipped her head back, her eyes going shut, the apex of her body pressed tight against him. He rotated his pelvis, savoring the sensation. Her hands clasped his thighs, each fingertip a pinpoint of sensation.
He feathered a touch along her inner thigh, traced the edge of her filmy panties, slipping inside until she gasped and squirmed against him.
He caught her moan in a hot, deep kiss, while he stripped off his boxers, groping in his running shorts for the condom in the pocket.
He found it, but her panties were in the way.
He fisted his hand around one strip of lace. Cursing in frustration, he jerked the fabric and it easily tore away.
Devin wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her gorgeous body against him, kissing his neck, his ear, his temple, running her hands through his hair and holding tight.
He bracketed her hips with both hands, slowly pushing his way inside her, inch by amazing inch, feeling her hot body clasp him. He bent his head and kissed one nipple, drawing it into the cavern of his mouth.
“Lucas,” she cried, and he thrust all the way home.
Her lithe body molded around him, and instinct took over as he pressed and withdrew.
The hot summer air surrounded them. The scents from the garden swirled in. The glow of the yard lights seemed to dance through the window, while the sensations of Devin hijacked his brain.
She kissed him.
Deeply at first.
Then more gently, more slowly, as if she was savoring the sensations.
Her body matched his thrusts, her breathing deep and steady.
She cradled his face with her hands, drawing back ever so slightly, gazing into his eyes, hers glowing midnight, sparkling with blue diamonds.
He slowed the rhythm, while they stared at each other. Neither said a word, but their communication was finally clear, crystal clear, no pretense or posturing between them.
He tried to hang on.
He desperately wanted to stop time. Right here. Right now. Forever.
But instinct took over. His pace increased, and her eyes fluttered shut. She clung tighter, and he rose higher and higher until her cries pierced the summer dark, and he followed her over the edge.
His heart thundered. His lungs dragged in air, his body desperately trying to recover from their cataclysmic lovemaking.
Devin melted against him, her hot body obviously spent, sweat mixing with pool water on his slick skin, and he laid back on the daybed and hugged her to him. He stroked her wet hair, kissed her temple, smoothed his hands down her bare back.
“Hoo, boy,” she breathed in his ear.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
She was silent for a long moment. “Define ‘okay’?”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
Her body quaked with a brief chuckle. “I’m not hurt. Surprised, maybe.”
“You’re surprised?” He drew back so that he could look into her eyes. “I saw that one coming a mile away.”
She shook her head in denial, but he wasn’t going to let it go that easily.
He caught her gaze once more. “Are you saying I’m the only one of us who’s been fantasizing all week long?”
She glanced off to the side without answering.
“Admit it,” he cajoled.
This time, she dropped her forehead against his. “There’s something wrong with us.”
“We’re healthy adults?”
“We’re making a bad situation even more complicated.”
“Devin?”
“Yes?”
“It’s okay to take a break here. We can easily restart the fight again tomorrow.” Cradling the back of her neck, he gently laid her head against his shoulder. For the moment, he just wanted to hold her close. He wasn’t ready to let go.
“Are you declaring a truce?” she asked, voice muffled.
“A truce is better than a stalemate,” he sighed, settling her in the circle of his arms, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck and inhaling her fresh scent.
She relaxed against him, her lips brushing his hairline as she spoke. “Just until breakfast, okay?”
He kissed her neck, then he kissed her ear, then he drew back and kissed her swollen lips, once, then twice, then a third, long time. “Until breakfast,” he agreed, feeling arousal pulse through his body all over again.
In the breakfast alcove off the Demarcos’ big kitchen, Devin kept her attention studiously on Amelia in the high chair, spooning rice pablum into the baby’s mouth, while various staff members worked in the kitchen.
Across the table, Lucas had long since finished an omelet and was sipping his second cup of coffee.
“Is that enough, sweetheart?”
Devin asked as Amelia pursed her mouth against a spoonful of pablum.
Amelia kicked her feet in response and reached her hand out for the small bottle of apple juice sitting on the table. Devin swiftly wiped Amelia’s mouth and handed her the colorful juice bottle.
“Is that the plan?” asked Lucas, voice flat.
Devin glanced around and realized the kitchen had emptied of staff.
“What plan?” she asked cheerfully, without meeting his eyes. Instead she mopped up the splashes of pablum from the high-chair tray before taking a bite of her toasted blueberry bagel that had long since gone cold.
“We pretend it never happened?”
“I like it.” Devin nodded and wiped the high-chair tray with the damp cloth. “It’s a pretty good plan.”
