Jenny took a step closer, seeing the surprise in his eyes. He said her name again, as she reached for him.
When his arms came up to fold her into his embrace, she sighed and closed her eyes, blocking out everything except the man who held her water-slick body against his. When he gathered her closer, she leaned into him, no longer able to deny the needs and emotions that had been building within her.
“Thank God,” he growled, the words barely above a whisper before his lips came down on hers, his large hands stroking up and down her back. When he cupped her bottom she felt herself pulled against the rigid flesh straining at the front of his bathing trunks.
She had lived like a nun the whole time she had been at the Mirador Hotel. No more. And she knew he was tuned to the responses she had struggled to hold in check.
He made a low sound deep in his chest as he played with the straps of her bathing suit, slipping his hands underneath to caress the skin of her shoulders and then the tops of her breasts.
Had she ever felt anything as exquisite as the stroking of his fingers against her wet skin?
The touch was light, but it set her body on fire. She forgot her own warning, forgot everything but his taste—his touch. And her own swelling response.
Her breasts ached. The nipples especially. They had contracted painfully, and the only way she could ease the tight sensation was to press them against his chest.
That was no help. It only made her crave more. And then more.
She felt desperation rising inside her. Not the desperation to escape that had sent her hurtling from the people who were holding her captive back in her old life.
This was a desperation to finally get as close as she could to Grant Bradley.
When the kiss broke, she raised her head, looking around in a daze.
“We’re out in the open,” she managed to say.
Under the water, he knitted his fingers with hers, guiding her to the wide steps he’d come down. He guided her up to the pool deck, then to one of the cabanas. Glad to let him take the lead, she followed him beyond the curtains to the semidarkness of the interior. There was a chaise inside, this one double width, with the back folded down to make a bed, as though someone had known she and Grant would be coming here.
He turned to her, murmuring her name against her mouth, nibbling with his lips and then his teeth. Her whole body throbbed to the contact. Still, part of her was standing back, watching the two of them together, unable to quite believe that this was really happening.
“I’ve wanted you for so long. I thought you didn’t want me,” he murmured as he aroused her.
“You were wrong,” she answered, amazed that she could say the words out loud.
“Then why did you keep me at arm’s length?”
“I was trying to keep you safe.” And myself, she silently added.
“My ghosts,” she managed to answer.
To stop the conversation going any farther, she brought her mouth back to his for a heated kiss. To her relief he didn’t try to get more information out of her, probably because he was as overwhelmed as she by this physical contact. She was the one who had reached for him in the pool, but now he was sweeping her along with him to some dark, dangerous place that she hardly recognized. A place where she felt out of control. And reckless. And on the verge of pleasure only he could give her.