Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (14 page)

I was just taking my first sip when a warm hand ran up my back and rested on my shoulder. It was Boone. I swallowed fast. Damn, he got here quick. Or maybe he’d been here waiting? He was wearing a surf company tee and cargos, and a beanie over his floppy hair. And I kind of liked it. It looked cute on him. I set my drink down and grabbed his hand. “Let’s dance!”

He made an
after you
gesture with his arms, and I led us out onto the dance floor, ready to shake it. Boone was a pretty good dancer. His moves were a little awkward at times, but it was counteracted by his complete lack of concern over it. I laughed and moved with him through three songs before Rue and Theo joined us. Katy Perry came over the speakers, and Rue grabbed me. She loved Katy. She loved every girl power anthem for that matter. So when the chorus started, Rue and I ignored all the guys around us and got our groove on, dancing dirty with each other, which, of course, attracted that many more guys. Somehow in the mix, Boone disappeared. But that was okay, because there was Rue and a bunch of other guys, and we were all just dancing, twisting, and swaying to the beat.

I lost track of time as I stayed on the floor, my hips in constant motion. My buzz was wearing off, but I didn’t want to leave the dance floor. Rue drifted away at some point, tucked tight to a dark-haired guy with a full sleeve of tattoos on display. Taking her place, a guy with a sexy British accent and nerdy-chic glasses scooted over to me and complimented me over the music, and we started working it together, totally getting into it. By our second song, we had a feel for each other’s rhythm and were really starting to rock. I was beginning to think I had found my lucky guy for the night. Especially if he planned on whispering to me with that amazing accent of his.

I held my hair off my face with one hand as I spun in a circle and then dropped it low. As I came back up, a pair of hands grabbed my hips and pulled me back against a hard chest, dragging me away from the British hottie. Indignant, I grabbed the hands holding me and tried to remove them, but I stiffened when I recognized the bracelets — and my royal blue hair tie — on one of them.
West
. My breath hissed out.

Without turning around, I let my muscles relax, softening against him. He pressed his head to the side of mine, and his lips feathered over my ear. “Mind if I cut in?”

I should have said yes. I should wriggle back through the crowd until I found my British guy and stick with the tourist. Or figure out where the hell Boone escaped to. Either option was safer. Smarter.

Instead, I arched my back, letting my ass press against his front. His hands slipped down my hips and over the tops of my thighs before tracing a path back up to my waist as he moved us to the bass, our bodies sliding against each other, my hands still holding his wrists. The nerve endings where he’d stroked me shot to life, burning for more of his touch. I bit my lip and forced myself to release him and put a little more distance between us, trying to keep things light. The song changed, and the opening notes to Pitbull’s latest hit reverberated through the club. I loved this song. The beat was playful and flirty. It was just what I needed.

Spinning around to face him, I let the music move me. I raised my arms above my head and swiveled my hips, letting my hair fly around me in a wild tangle. I twisted and turned, and partway through the second chorus, I ran one hand down his neck, needing to feel the heat from his skin in that moment. His eyes darkened at the contact, and he hooked an arm around my back, forcing one knee between my legs and pulling me closer. My breath hitched as the feel went from fun to foreplay in an instant. He snugged us together from hip to thigh, and I allowed my hands to roam over his shoulders, not sure where to settle them.

Touching his forehead to mine, he did a slow, dirty grind against me with his hips, and my eyes drifted shut. I couldn’t help but compare this moment to the one with Theo a few weeks ago on my doorstep. Then, I’d felt nothing. But with West, even though we were pressed like sardines in the middle of the crowded bar, it wasn’t just a spark. It was the whole damn stick of dynamite. And every warning I’d ever heard about not playing with fire went right out the window.

With one hand, he brushed my hair away from my neck and then slid his lips down my exposed skin to where my shoulder started. I tilted my head to the side, giving him more room as he blazed a path back up to just below my ear, nibbling gently. Taking a shaky breath, I leaned back and looked at him. His lust-filled eyes locked with mine, and his mouth tipped up on one side. The little patterns he was drawing with his thumbs on the small of my back were robbing me of rational thought. Licking my lips, I leaned closer to his ear. “Wanna get out of here?” I asked, just loud enough for him to hear before catching his earlobe between my teeth.

Without saying a word, he grabbed my hand and headed straight for the door.

We got to his truck and he yanked the door open, the metal creaking in protest. He tossed me up on the seat and then stepped between my legs, wrapping his strong arms around me. My heart pounded beneath my ribs, and I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging impatiently. Groaning, he pressed his lips to mine in a hot open-mouthed kiss. There was nothing tentative or gentle about it. His mouth branded me as his fingers tangled in my hair, and I hooked my legs around his waist, digging into him with my heels. He nipped at my lips in response.

“You want to play rough, huh?” His voice was ragged.

I kissed my way up his jawline. “I just want to play. Naked.”

After one last taste, he drew away and then jogged around the front of the cab to hop inside. As he pulled out of the lot, steering with one hand, he used the other to slide me to the middle of the bench seat, and I rubbed my palm down his thigh. He brought my hand back up and farther into his lap, and I let my hand hover above his crotch, rubbing him with just one finger, up and down, as he drove. “Any nicknames I need to know about before we get started?” I teased.

He slanted me a glance, his mouth curving up. “For my cock? No. But I might be open to suggestions later.”

He grabbed my hand and stroked himself with it once, then twice, before raising it to his mouth and sucking one of my fingers all the way to the knuckle, biting the tip before releasing it. I closed my eyes and tried to remember if the condoms were in the nightstand or if they were in the bathroom medicine cabinet. Now was not the time to be searching, and the bar was less than a mile from the cottage.

Rolling my head on the back of the seat, I stared at West’s neck. The tan skin stretched over chords of muscle. He had those muscles that ran between his neck and shoulders that made some guys look bulky. Traps? Is that what they were called? His hand gripped my thigh, his thumb stroking my bare skin, and my mind whirled. The truck lurched as he yanked it to a stop. He’d read my mind and gone to my place. Rue would kill me later, but it was two blocks closer and, right now, I just wanted to find a flat surface. West swung open the driver’s side door and dragged me out through his side, too impatient to come around.

Lips fused, we stumbled up the steps to the cottage. I unlocked the door, and we stepped through. He closed it behind us and locked it. He tore his lips from mine long enough to ask, “Which way?” Ripping my dress over my head, I started walking, leading him down the hall to my room.

We didn’t turn the lights on. Didn’t even pull the covers back. I launched myself at him, and he grabbed my ass, lifting me up, and we tumbled back onto the bed. He turned us as we fell so he landed on the bottom, and I splayed across him, wearing only a strapless bra and panties. I braced my arms against his shoulders, shrouding him in my hair.

For several heartbeats we stared at each other, lingering, savoring the anticipation. His hand cupped my face, his thumb smoothing my cheekbone, and I leaned into the caress. Then his mouth opened, and that one tiny movement set me off. I became a whirlwind of motion, eager to feel his skin against mine. I tore at his clothes, and he tried to help, twisting and pulling until his shirt was over his head and his jeans and boxer briefs were around his ankles. After sliding from the bed, I yanked his pants off and tossed them in the corner, leaving him bare to my view. I paused, kneeling on the floor at the foot of my bed, between his thighs, looking him over as he leaned up on his elbows. His erection rose proudly in front of me, impossible to ignore. He was bigger than I’d expected, and my stomach clenched with desire. Leaning forward, I ran the tip of my tongue up his hard length from base to tip, pausing to swirl the velvety tip. I pulled back and blew softly against the head of his cock and watched as it jumped, his balls tightening. I was just getting ready to take him in my mouth when he grabbed my upper arms and hauled me up his body.

“No,” he ground out. “I won’t last, and I’ve waited too damn long for this to be over that quick.” He brushed my hair from my face and grabbed a loose fistful of it at the back of my neck, using it to bring me to him.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and crushed my mouth to his, eager for more of his kisses. Parting my lips, I licked into his mouth, dueling with his tongue and learning his taste. We kissed fiercely, both of us straining, trying to get closer. My tongue felt the rough edges of his teeth and his explored the inside of my lower lip. It was like I couldn’t get close enough, any molecule between us was one too many. I framed his face with my hands, holding him still so I could take what I wanted. Our lips tangled hungrily, too impatient for nuance.

With his arms, he pushed us up until he was sitting and I was straddling his lap, his cock pulsing against me. Breaking off the kiss, he dragged his mouth down my neck to nuzzle my chest, rubbing his face against the mounds of my breasts. He used his tongue to trace my skin where the black lace edged my nude bra. “I like this,” he murmured against me, nipping lightly. “It’s pretty. Sweet, but a little naughty.” His finger touched the center where the two cups were held together with black corset-style laces.

Slipping his other arm around my back, he made short work of the clasp, tossing my bra toward the dresser. His big hands cupped my breasts, squeezing gently. Freed, they seemed to swell, growing to fill his fingers. Arching, I pushed my breasts closer to him, wanting more. I closed my eyes and bit my lip at the feel of his rough palms against my tender flesh, his calluses thrilling me. I loved the slight abrasion of his touch, the contrast of our bodies heightening my arousal.

Ducking his head, he latched on to one of my hard nipples with a greedy mouth. An answering pull echoed deep in my core. I moaned, running my fingers into his hair and scraping his scalp with my nails. He gave my other breast equal attention, laving it with his tongue before taking the nipple into his mouth. I tipped my head back as I held him against me, all my focus on his touch, his lips, his tongue, his urgency.

He raced his hands up my thighs and around to cup my ass, bringing me tighter against him. The heat of him throbbed through my thin panties, and I undulated against him. With a groan, he twisted us on the bed until I was on my back, and he was half on top, half beside me, one of his heavy thighs thrown over mine. He rained kisses over my face — my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, the tip of my chin. His hand crept down the plane of my stomach and dipped under the edge of my underwear, teasing the skin there and sending my nerve endings into overdrive.
Oh, dear Lord, yes.

I sucked in a breath, letting it out in shaky pants. He rubbed his nose across my jaw and buried it in the crook of my neck, pressing his face against me, and then he lowered one finger to delve into my folds. I knew he could feel how wet I was for him. He growled my name and sucked at the bottom of my neck near my collarbone.

A raw sound of need escaped my throat, and I ran my hand from his shoulder down his chest and over his hard abs, feeling his muscles contract in my path. I followed that sexy muscle that ran from his hip to his erection, wrapping my fingers around his hardness and stroking him, loving the way he felt like silk over steel. He covered my fingers with his own, guiding me, showing me how he liked it.

“Sadie. Condom. My wallet.” The words were a soft staccato against my neck.

Letting go of him, I rolled across the bed and opened my nightstand drawer. Groping blindly, I felt the crinkle of foil and tossed the packet on his chest. He made short work of the wrapper and, with one hand, yanked my panties down my legs, throwing them somewhere beyond the bed. Returning his hand to my center, he pushed a finger inside of me. “Jesus, Sadie, the way you feel against my hand—” His voice was husky with need. He added another finger, and I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts.

I ran my hands over his torso, following his contours, unable to settle on one spot. He was all heat and lean muscle, and I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop moving. I opened my legs wider, trying to get him where I wanted him most. Taking the hint, he rose over me and braced himself on his forearms while he nuzzled my ear.

Unable to wait any longer, I reached between us and guided him to my opening, and he pressed the first inch of himself inside me. I put my feet flat on the bed and lifted up, impatient to feel him deeper, stretching me, filling me. He withdrew except for the tip and then thrust again, wrenching a soft moan from my throat. I whispered his name. “More,” I demanded.

He moved his hands down to my hips to hold me still, and with his next plunge, he entered me fully, staying deep while I adjusted to the size of him, my muscles tensed. He swore under his breath. “You ready?” His question was a harsh exhale against my ear. “Because I want it hard and fast, and I think you do too.”

I dropped my hands to his tight ass and squeezed. “Waitin’ on you,” I managed to get out.

He laughed once and then started to move, setting a pace that had me clinging to him. I clutched his shoulders, his arms, his neck, whatever I could reach, and matched his rhythm, the force of his hips pushing me into the mattress. He groaned, pinning me beneath him, his weight forcing me to take in shallow breaths. A light sheen of sweat slicked our skin, and our movements became jerkier, less coordinated, our primal instinct to chase release overtaking finesse.