Стейси Кестуик - Wet

His lips met mine, tasting of salt and sugar. Hands cupped my face and slid into my hair as we devoured each other. I wrapped my arms around him and grabbed his ass, pulling him snug against me until his hardness nestled into my softness. He cursed and ground himself against me, his tongue mimicking what his cock clearly wanted. I lifted one thigh and wrapped it around his waist, needing to get closer, my arms circling his back, and my hands clutching his shoulder blades.

We ate at each other, not bothering to pause for breath, and when his hands cupped my ass, lifting me and urging me to wrap my legs fully around his waist, I groaned with satisfaction, pressing my hips against him, desperate for friction. I nipped his lower lip, pausing to steal a breath, and he rested his forehead against mine, his beautiful eyes closed. Bending my head, I ran my tongue down his neck and trailed kisses along his shoulder as my hands explored his upper back, kneading his hard muscles and feeling them flex in response. Changing directions, I ran my palms up his neck, forcing his head back, and dug my fingers into his scalp until he opened his eyes. He groaned.

“I didn’t bring you out here for this.”

He rolled his hips, and I couldn’t answer, except to squeeze him tighter with my thighs.

I moved my lips to his ear. “Why the fuck not?”

His lip curled, and he tugged on my braid, carving a few inches between us. He took a deep breath, and his chest expanded with the movement, pressing into my breasts.

“I was serious earlier. I really do want to get to know you better — not just in the carnal sense. But, fuck, if you don’t make me forget all my noble intentions.”

“I like your intentions. I like your mouth too. Can’t we do both?” I was shameless as I squirmed against him.

He swore long and hard as he lowered me to my feet. “I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t have a damn condom here, babe.”

A rustling noise interrupted my response, and we turned to see General Beauregard nosing the now empty Krispy Kreme box across the deck. West moved around me, hollering a sharp reprimand at the dog, who beat a quick escape to the front of the boat. After tossing the remains of our lunch back in the cooler, West returned to my side, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me to him, and I rested my arms against his tempting chest.

He lifted a hand and cupped the side of my face. “You — you’re so fucking sexy right now with your lips all swollen from my kisses. You make me forget everything else.”

I gripped his biceps, one inked and one not, and leaned my cheek into his palm. “What are you forgetting? Do you have to be somewhere?”

“I just have to bartend tonight — fuck! What time is it?”

Leaning over to grab his phone off the console’s dash, he powered the screen on, checked the time, and groaned.

“We have to head back if I’m going to make the start of my shift.”

I frowned, not ready for our time together to end.

He dipped his head, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Come with me tonight. Hang out at the bar.”

I sighed. The man did not know how to ask.

But he sure as hell knew how to kiss. Which was more important.

“And watch you flirt with half-dressed girls for tips? That sounds fun.”

“So I can flirt with you .”

I squeezed his tattooed arm. “Need some practice?”

“Not really.”

His ego was truly boundless.

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” I tapped my chin for effect.

West’s smirk was too arrogant for my liking, and I left him in suspense for the time being. Turning around, I plopped back down into a bean bag. He was right. It was the best seat on the boat.

Muttering something I couldn’t hear under his breath, West positioned himself behind the console and started up his wannabe yacht, powering us back to reality. I settled farther into the vinyl and closed my eyes against the brutal wind rushing past me, content and happier than I remembered being in a long time.

The next thing I knew, West was shaking my shoulder, waking me up. Disoriented, I sat up and tried to regain my bearings.

We were back at the marina.

Shit, I’d fallen asleep. Again. I swiped at my mouth, checking for drool.

As I got to my feet, the bean bag made an awful peeling sound as it fell away from me. My sweat had glued it to me, and I was pretty sure I left a layer of skin behind on it.

“Sorry ’bout that.” I cringed.

“My fault,” West offered. “I don’t normally bore my dates to sleep.”

I ducked my head in embarrassment and made a show of gathering up my bag. As West helped me over the side of the boat and onto the dock, General Beauregard patiently waited, leash pooled at his feet and his tail wagging. We made our way back to the parking lot, and that traitorous dog walked beside West the whole time, never once even tugging against the leash.

“So he behaves for you, and he’s a heathen for me?” I nodded at the furry creature responsible for the ache in my shin.

“He recognizes authority and responds to it. He was testing you.”

“Well, I don’t think I passed,” I said.

“That’s okay. He’s not the one you need to worry about responding to you.”

I lifted my eyebrows at him, not following him at all.

West ran his eyes down my bikini-clad figure and laughed. “You want to check out my response?” He dropped the cooler with a loud bang on the aluminum walkway and set the beach bag on top it, before taking mine and putting it with his. He tugged my hips forward until our thighs brushed and dropped his chin. His fingers dug in, until nothing but Lycra and nylon fabric separated us.

Oh yeah, he responded to me.

And if size mattered, then I was impressed.

Cheeks heating, I put my hands on his chest, creating a little space. General Beauregard read my mind and nosed in between us.

“I’m not ready for this date to end,” West admitted, one hand coming up to smooth my tangled hair off my face, trying to tuck the wind-snarled strands behind my ear. “Come to the Wreck with me.”

West’s skin sizzled against mine, and I couldn’t help sliding my hands up to his shoulders and behind his neck. My breathing was faster when I raised my eyes to his. “Would that be our second date then?”

He tilted his head, and his eyes followed the path of his fingers down my neck. “Does it matter?”

He said nothing physical on the first date. If we could skip ahead to our second…

I licked my lips. “Maybe.”

His eyes flickered down to my mouth, and his hand gripped the back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. He was grinning at me.

“I know what you’re thinking. The bar will abso- fucking- lutely be our second date.”

Our second date kind of sucked. Yeah, it was fun to sit on a barstool and stare at West and watch his ass shake when he mixed cocktails and bent over to scoop up grog. It was far less amusing watching all the ladies, and I use that term loosely, offer themselves up to him as not-so-virgin sacrifices. The Wreck clearly did not have self-respect on tap. I sighed as a girl just happened to spill her drink down her shirt. A sheer white tank top. Her big doe eyes widened as she pressed the cocktail napkin to her breast, rubbing at the damp spot until her nipple hardened. Oh, look! West had more napkins to save the day.

How nice.

West sent me a pained look and rolled his eyes. The girl looked barely legal as it was. It was like a guppy taunting a shark.

Stupid girl.

Sharks like to chase their prey.

Needing a break from all the calculated desperation clogging the bar area, I escaped to the bathroom. The stall I picked had a working lock — thank God for small favors — and I forced myself to take a deep cleansing breath as I sat there. Okay, yeah, that was poor planning on my part, since the bathroom reeked of covert cigarettes, drugstore perfume, and stale urine, but it was the thought that counted.