M. Leighton - Some Like It Wild

As if sensing my eyes on him, Jake looks up from his place near the water and his gaze collides with mine. His mouth drops open a fraction as his eyes cruise every inch of my exposed skin. I tingle everywhere they touch—my throat, my stomach, my legs.

The song the band is playing brings a smile to my lips. It’s an old Warrant song called “Cherry Pie.” It makes me feel sexy and wanted and . . . daring as I step off the grass and into the sand to make my way to Jake.

The cool grains tickle my toes as I walk and a pleasant warmth suffuses my entire body. I’m not sure if it’s from the drink or from Jake, but, at the moment, I couldn’t care less.

He backs away from the other guys as I approach. I stop in front of him, pleased to see the heated glow in his eyes. “You’re gonna make me regret your change of clothes, aren’t you?”

“Why would you regret it?”

Jake takes a step forward, bringing his body to within an inch of mine. “Because I promised I wouldn’t be kissing you again until you asked me to. And this,” he says, reaching down to drag the backs of his fingers over the skin of my bare stomach, “isn’t going to make it easy.”

I’m trapped in the caramel pools of his eyes, in the low rumble of his voice, in the delicious web of this unfamiliar desire. The part of me that would normally resist him is curiously absent, leaving only the part of me that is fascinated by him and what he makes me feel.

I sway toward him. “Maybe I don’t want it to be easy.”

One inky black brow shoots up. “Are you teasing me, beautiful?”

“Maybe.”

“Have you ever heard that expression about messing with the bull?”

“Are you threatening me with your . . . horns?” I ask, knowing full well that I’m playing with fire, yet not quite able to care. I just feel the heat. And I want it.

I want him.

“Baby, I don’t make threats. I make promises.”

For a second, I forget that we are in the middle of a crowd, that we aren’t alone and that I shouldn’t be tempting fate this way. For a second, I just want him to kiss me. And touch me. And make me forget everything in the world and in my life except him. And I know Jake is just the kind of guy that could do that.

An unwelcome voice interrupts the moment. It’s Hannah. “There’s no excuse for you to still be dry, Laney,” she says. I don’t even glance her way, hoping that if I ignore her, she’ll go away. Only she doesn’t. “Come on, you two. Let’s go give that tire swing a whirl.”

One corner of Jake’s mouth curves up into a wry grin. “Didn’t you say you were here with a friend? What was her name, Lisa? Where’s she at?” he asks without taking his eyes off mine.

“Oh, she’s off flirting with some guy she met.”

While I am a bit irritated by the interruption, Hannah has been very nice to me, and I feel bad for her that her friend abandoned her so easily.

Swallowing my sigh, I turn to her and smile. “Lead the way.”

“Yay!” she exclaims, clapping her hands as she bounces, setting her generous boobs ajiggle. She flips her red hair and turns toward the huge rock where several people are waiting for their turn on the swing.

Jake and I follow, stopping behind her in line. I feel his warm palm slide around the curve of my waist to settle at my hip. It’s an intimate gesture, and I feel the heat of his hand all the way to my core, making me wish again that we were alone.

I don’t turn to look back at him. I don’t want him to see my smile.

I sip my drink until it’s my turn to climb up on the rock, then I hand it to Jake. “Here. Hold this.”

Jake takes it in one hand, glancing down at it before he winds the fingers of his other around my upper arm. He stops me from moving forward to take my turn. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay to do this? I get the feeling you’re not used to drinking, and this stuff isn’t exactly a wine cooler.”

His comment stirs up the resentment that I’ve been battling since things with Shane took a turn for the worse. I pull my arm free. “I’m fine. I’m not the goody-two-shoes you think I am.”

He quirks one brow, but says nothing as I turn and climb onto the rock.

The first level isn’t too bad, but the thing is, you have to climb up onto another, higher part of the rock to get to the tire and swing out over the water. When I reach the top and a guy pushes the rope tied to the tire into my hands, I look down. It seems that I’m at least a mile above the surface of the water.

“Uhhh . . .” The guy looks at me, raises his eyebrows and tips his head toward the water. “Umm, I’m not sure I want to do this,” I tell him.

“Aw, come on. It’s fun. You’ll be fine.”

I start to back away. “I don’t think I should.”

“Can you swim?” he asks.

“Of course I can swim.” I feel like saying Duh! Why would I be up here if I couldn’t swim? But I don’t.

“Then you’ll be fine. Just put your foot up here and I’ll swing you out.”

I pause, teetering between sucking it up and doing it to save face, or braving the humiliation of climbing back down.

A familiar voice interrupts my musing. “Want me to go down with you?” Jake rumbles at my ear.

I feel a sigh of relief swell in my chest before I ask, “Can we do that?”

Jake reaches around me to take the rope from my fingers. For just a second, nearly every surface of his front is pressed to my back. He pauses before he straightens, as if he’s giving me time to enjoy the feeling of being enveloped by him, of being touched all over by him.

“We can do anything we want,” he answers softly, his breath tickling my neck.

And just like that, we’re talking of much more than just the swing.

I turn around to face him. He’s so close I can count the dark stubble that dusts his cheeks.

“So how do we do this?”

Without taking his eyes off mine, Jake winds his arm around my waist, pulls me in tight against him, then lifts me off the ground. “Just hold on to me. I’ve got you.”

I don’t know if it’s just in my head or if Jake means to make that sound like more than the obvious. Either way, my brain, spinning with drink and fear and anticipation, interprets his words differently. In some ways, I think Jake does have me. My attention, my attraction, my curiosity, my desire—but what comes next? Some part of me anxiously awaits the answer to that question. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to let go of the old Laney long enough to enjoy what I find.

My arms slip easily around his neck and my legs intertwine with his, leaving no space between us. We fit together perfectly, like our bodies were designed with the other in mind.

“Ready?” he asks as he watches me intently. Again, in my mind, it seems he’s asking me about so much more.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a grin, he pulls back on the rope, steps up onto the bottom of the tire and pushes off. We swing way up into the air, enough for my stomach to drop, before Jake lets go.

Then we’re flying.

And I’m falling.

Down, down, down we go, and I hear Jake’s whoop just before cool water engulfs us. I can still feel the heat of his body and, even as our momentum slows and I begin to swim upward, Jake never loosens his hold.

We break the surface at the same time. Jake’s laughing as he shakes his head, sending droplets of water in every direction. When his eyes meet mine, they’re sparkling.

“Well?” he asks.

“That was awesome.” My heart is still hammering, although I’m not sure if it’s from the swing or from Jake’s legs tangling with mine. “Thank you for doing it with me.”

His smile turns wicked. “There are many, many things I’d like to do with you. I hope this was just the beginning.”