Jill Shalvis - Bared

She blushed at that, a fine shade of red rising up her neck and throat and over her cheeks.

When her bathing suit was in place, she sighed. “Rafe.”

“Emma.”

She stared at his chest rather than his eyes. “I’m not good at this.” She glanced at the pool, then closed her eyes briefly. “I know I gave you the impression I’m wild and free…but I’m not. I mean, yes, I wanted to…I asked you to…”

“Make you come?”

“I don’t usually…”

“Ask, or come?”

“Either. Both.”

He nearly laughed, but she wasn’t kidding. Had she really never had an orgasm with a man before? How was that possible, as beautiful as she was, that no man had ever-

“I’m not like that-” She broke off when he cupped her jaw and lifted her face.

“Are you somehow trying to apologize for the fact that you had a climax?”

“Well, mostly I don’t-”

“You are ,” he said with an amazed laugh. “You’re trying to apologize.” He put his mouth to hers, kissed her until he felt her start to melt against him again, and then slowly pulled back. “Let’s get one thing clear,” he whispered against her mouth. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

“But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He kissed her again.

She stared at him. “Next time?”

“Oh, yeah.”

EMMA DROVE HOME on autopilot, her body vibrating with the effects of what she’d let Rafe do to it. Even as she got herself on the freeway and tried to stop thinking, she continued to relive it.

His hands all over her, pulling off her top, slipping into her bottoms-

A little cry escaped her lips and she cranked up the music. But not even the rocking beat could take her mind off the fact that certain parts of her anatomy were still suffering little aftershocks of their pool adventure.

She’d let him-He’d-

Her hand darted out, slipped into her purse and found her cell phone. Watching the road, she punched in her sister’s mobile number.

“Emma, I’m right in the middle of getting a tan here,” Amber answered a little crankily.

“A tan,” Emma said tightly. “You’re getting yourself a tan while I live your life for you. Well, it’s over, sis. You’re on your own regarding the fantasy calendar. I don’t know where or when your next shoot is because-” Because I just came with your photographer’s mouth on my breast and his fingers in -No. Don’t go there. She gulped in a deep, calming breath. “Well. Let’s just say that I quit. Okay?”

“Jeez, how did you get your panties all in a twist?”

It hadn’t been panties, thank you very much, but a bathing suit, and it had gotten twisted by Rafe’s most amazing, talented fingers.

But that was another story entirely. “Look, it doesn’t matter-”

“Rafe pull his cool, distant routine on you again? Oh, honey, don’t take it personally. He doesn’t really have a thing for models, you know? If he had his way, he’d be out taking pictures of…I don’t know. Stuff . Not people, I don’t think. So if he’s all chilly and remote on you, just shrug it off.”

Chilly and remote?

Ha!

That hadn’t exactly been the problem.

No, the issue was her own.

Basically, her life had been easy up until now, just a series of stories she put together to give other people pleasure and to keep herself so busy that she didn’t have time for anything else.

Then she’d taken one look at Rafe Delacantro on a dark, stormy Hawaiian island and everything had changed. She’d wanted , she’d craved , and she hadn’t wavered from that want and craving until she’d gotten it.

And oh, how she’d gotten it.

She’d gotten hot and wild. She’d gotten the incentive she needed to spice up her storylines for the next ten years.

Next time .

Oh, dear God, he wanted a next time, and there’d be even more.

Her heart started a rapid tattoo just at the thought. Because the truth was, she wanted a next time, too.

RAFE STOOD AT THE TOP of Donner Summit Pass, the wind tossing his face and clothes, the sun at this high altitude seeming so close he could almost touch it, and drew in a deep breath. Beyond him stood the majestic Sierras, tall and craggy, lined with a carpet of towering pines and sage, dotted with the snow that unbelievably hadn’t melted yet, even though it was June.

Again, he was an entire world away from Los Angeles and again he was loving it.

They’d flown up here, in an eight-seater Cessna-a “butt squeaker,” Stone had called it-and had hooked up with a local who’d shown them the quickest way to get to the snow. It had involved a short hike but they’d gotten the shot they needed, with their model in a stark white zip-up leather suit, straddling a snowmobile and looking outrageously sexy.

On the flight up here, he’d ridden shotgun with the pilot, with his model in the far, far back, and because he’d been busy talking to the pilot when everyone had loaded, he hadn’t gotten a good look at her.

Until they’d stepped off the plane he hadn’t known who he was shooting today.

But one look into her fathomless light-brown eyes and he’d known. Emma. Emma, wanting desperately to be mistaken for Amber. The looks she shot him were filled with anxiety-that he’d reveal her, that he’d somehow refer to what they’d done in his pool-as well as a reluctant awareness.

If she thought he was going to tell anyone what had happened between them, she was sorely mistaken. He didn’t want to share the details of an experience that had rocked his world.

So for the shoot he’d given her the anonymity she seemed to crave. He’d done it because he’d needed it as well, because if he acknowledged that she wasn’t Amber, that she was indeed the woman he had slowly stripped and had begun to make love to, he didn’t know how to be just her photographer.

But now the shoot was over and people were making their way back to the small, private Truckee/Tahoe airport where the Cessna waited to take them back to L.A.

Standing on the tarmac while everyone loaded up, Rafe maneuvered his way close to Emma. She’d changed out of the leather cat-suit that had looked amazing on her, and now wore simple black jeans and a white sweater. She’d pulled her beautiful hair back in a clip and had washed off all the makeup. She looked about sixteen. She stood with her head tilted back, soaking in the wide-open blue sky that seemed so much larger up here in the Sierras than it ever did at home.

When he touched her hand, she jumped a little and shot him a wary look.

“Emma.”

She let out a long breath. “The way you do that…You know you’re the only one who can tell us apart.”

“It’s not hard for me.”

She looked at him as if she wasn’t sure she liked that.

“I love the way you look in your own clothes.”

Her expression went from wary to startled in a heartbeat, and then she laughed. “Yeah.”

“I do.”

She shook her head and looked at the mountains surrounding them, at the lovely valley just beyond the airport where wild grass shifted in the wind, making the land look alive. “After all the exquisite clothing you’ve been exposed to on a daily basis,” she said, “you like my plain jeans and a sweater?”

“No, I like you in the jeans and sweater.” He grinned. “Actually, I like you in nothing at all, but-”

“Shh!” She covered his mouth with her hand and looked around, but relaxed when she realized no one was paying attention to them. She turned back to his still-smiling face, and had to shake her head and let out her own smile. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

He pulled her hand free and kept it in his own. “I’m glad it’s you here doing this.”