Erin McCarthy - Lady of the Lake

“No, sorry. From point of contact to final pull back, it only counts as one. It’s in the rule book.”

“The Puerto Rican rule book?” she asked wryly.

Dylan laughed and pulled her up onto his thigh. Her wet bikini bottoms pressed down into his swim trunks. “Yes. Now come here and give me number four.”

Violet went in to this kiss eager, hungry, and felt a kick of heat between her legs when Dylan’s tongue caressed along her mouth. She shuddered as he sucked her lip between his and then gave a light nip. That twinge of want flared up into a throb, and she gave a gasp.

Okay, no one had ever bitten her before. It felt a little wild, a little out of control, a little not-what-nice-girls-do. “Do that again,” she said when he panted in front of her, but didn’t touch her.

“Kiss you? I never actually did. We’re still on number four.” He leaned over and around her, reaching for something.

Violet’s butt wobbled on his thigh and she grabbed his shoulder for support. “What are you doing?”

“Adjusting the sail. We’re about three feet from hitting the break wall.”

Violet snapped her head up and took in their surroundings. They were bearing down on a stone wall.

And there were at least a half dozen people milling around the marina in clear view.

“Oh, my gosh.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t hit the wall.”

That was the least of Violet’s concerns. “People are watching us. People saw us.”

She didn’t even like the man she was kissing to be aware they were kissing. She sure in heck didn’t want an audience of strangers.

“That’s why we’re going to dock the boat and go on up to my place.”

“We are?” The apartment complex loomed behind the marina, an imposing structure, once a warehouse, now converted into luxury suites.

“Yep. I want to have my cake. And eat it, too.”

Dylan hustled Violet down the dock and up the wooden stairs to the elevator. He said a prayer for it to hurry as he pressed the button, then wondered if it was morally wrong to pray for speed in getting a woman naked.

Probably.

But he did it anyway.

“This is a nice building,” Violet said, standing very close to him, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s not bad. It’s got a good view and it’s quiet. It’s kind of sterile, though. No personal touches.” He took her hand and pulled her into the elevator.

Violet dragged her bare feet a little. “Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe you should just take me home.”

Willingly take a strike-out? No way. “Do you have a key to get into your apartment?”

“No. It’s in my purse. My friend Trish has the spare.”

“And Trish didn’t answer her phone?”

Violet shook her head, her lips pursing. “No.”

“Then have dinner with me. Relax. Enjoy the night.”

The front of his T-shirt had dried on her, but her hair was still damp, curling at the tips and fuzzing on top. She ran her fingers over the back of it, and looked over his shoulder, her cheeks pink. “Just so you understand, I’m not having sex with you.”

Way to burst his birthday bubble. He had a tree trunk size boner, she was half naked and wet already, and she was shooting him down?

But he wasn’t going to rush her. She had just dumped her boyfriend, after all.

“Okay, then. We can just have dinner and fool around. We’ll have sex on our second date. Wednesday, when I get back from New York.” With a grin, he rubbed the small of her back with his thumb and tried to think pure thoughts.

“This wasn’t a date. This was an accident, where I was dumb enough to fall in the water and you were nice enough to pull me out.”

“So why did you kiss me, then?”

“Because you wanted me to.” She cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up with a frown.

“Then you can have sex with me, because I want that, too.” He grinned down at her, knowing she was embarrassed, wanting to put her at ease.

Wanting her, plain and simple. But he would wait. As long as it took.

“Uh…”

He had her trapped by her words, and she knew it. She’d wanted those kisses just as much as he had.

“But I don’t like sex.”

The elevator door opened right as she spoke, and they turned to find his neighbor, Mrs. Martin, standing there with her terrier. “You’re not the only one, sweetie. Most women don’t like sex. They just fake it for the man’s benefit.”

Violet sighed.

Dylan knew he should just walk on by. But he couldn’t stop himself. He was trying to get laid here and Mrs. Martin wasn’t helping. So he said, “No woman has ever faked it with me.”

It was supposed to shut her up, but Mrs. Martin stopped and stared at him in amazement as they exited the elevator, and she got on. “Oh, Dylan, honey, baby. I would guess every woman has faked it with you at one point or another. Along with a lot of other things. They don’t date a baseball player for his sexual skill or his conversation.”

The door rolled shut and Dylan just stood there. The old broad had kneed him in the nuts with that one.

Violet touched his arm. “That was cruel.”

“But probably true.”

“Of course it’s not true. There’s a lot to like about you. Much more than money or a baseball uniform. You’re funny, you’re considerate, you care about your family.” She smiled, while her hand patted his forearm in a gesture that was strangely comforting. “And lots of women like sex, so I’m sure they weren’t faking with you. My friends all seem to really like it. I’m the weird one who can just take it or leave it, and I didn’t want you to be disappointed. And I couldn’t fake it if my life depended on it. I can’t…make noises.”

She finished that startling pronouncement with a blush.

He knew then what he wanted to do. How he wanted to be unselfish, completely generous in the way she seemed to think him capable of. How for once in his life he wanted to do something that really mattered, to give back a little something for all the many blessings he had in his life.

He opened his apartment door, stepped in with her, closed it. And touched her cheek. “There’s a lot to like about you, too. Let me give you what you want, Vi. Let me give you a baby.”

“What?” All the pink flush leeched from her cheeks.

Dylan rushed on, making his case. “My family is very fertile. No history of heart disease, diabetes, or cancer, and while we don’t fall in the genius range, we’re all average intelligence. Reasonably good-looking if you like dark hair and dark eyes. Athletic. All of my sisters can sing and my mom can cook.” Maybe he wasn’t what she was looking for in a donor, but he had to make the offer. She was an amazing woman, and maybe he had lost his goddamn mind, but this was right. It was just deep down in his gut right.

She’d make a beautiful mother and he wanted to make her happy.

Violet looked very serious, her eyes wide behind the lenses of her glasses. “You realize what you’re offering? That my child would be your child? But that I wouldn’t want any money or any contact with you?”

Hell, he knew she didn’t want money. In five minutes, he had figured out that wasn’t what Violet was about. She didn’t work that way. “I know that. And I also know you’ll be a wonderful mother. You’ve got that mom vibe through and through. A kid would be lucky to have you for a mom.”

And why the hell had he brought this up in the hallway? Jesus, could he learn a little tact?

Violet sniffled. He cupped her cheek. “I haven’t done a lot of great things in my life. I haven’t been a bad person, but I’ve had it easy. I’ve been into my own happiness. Maybe it sounds crazy, maybe it’s me feeling like a loser on my birthday, but I want to give you this, if you’ll let me. If my sperm is good enough for you.”