Fiona Lowe - Four Weddings

She tilted her head and raised her brows. ‘I didn’t know knights could swim. I thought they were pretty useless without their horses and their swords.’

‘Careful.’ His arms tightened around her, pulling her gently toward him, holding her body against his. Her length lined his and her ankles twined around his calves. ‘Cheeky maidens can be thrown back.’ His voice came out low and hoarse.

Humour danced in her eyes. ‘I apologise most sincerely.’ Laughing, she hooked his gaze and suddenly all traces of fun vanished, replaced with a look so serious it seared him. She gazed up at him, her eyes dark violet, shimmering brightly with undisguised need. Tiny droplets of water clung to the tips of her thick brown lashes, and a pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

It took every ounce of willpower not to flick the droplets off with his tongue.

‘Thank you for rescuing me, Tom.’

She spoke softly, the sound evaporating so quickly it was almost as if the words had not been said. But the echo of the message resonated loud and clear, vibrating in his chest.

Tilting her head forward, she pressed her lips gently against his cheek.

The touch was brief, a light caress. But the softness and warmth of her lips sent a riot of sensation ricocheting through him, making every part of him vibrate with suppressed longing.

She trusts me. The warning sounded faintly in the recesses of his mind.

She wants me. Need dominated.

Weeks of concealed emotions exploded inside him, pushing every rational thought from his head. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, her lips against his own. He needed her now like he needed air.

For the first time in forever he was living for the moment. Taking what was on offer, no questions asked.

Bec’s lips tingled, deliciously grazed from the stubble on Tom’s cheeks. She looked up into eyes alive with a smoking desire that matched her own.

Had she been standing on the sand she would have melted against him, her legs unable to hold her.

His desire-filled gaze swirled with tumbling emotions. Adoration and reverence emerged, penetrating deep into her soul, warming all of her, releasing parts of her she’d locked away. Freeing her. This amazing man had rescued her, opened her world and taught her to trust again.

This man she loved.

The thought rocked her through to her toes. She loved him. Oh, God, she loved him.

She waited for the fear to grip her heart.

She braced herself, waiting for all the reasons to flood her brain and tell her why this was a bad idea.

She waited for the overwhelming urge to flee.

None came.

Instead, peace and tranquility, linked with a sense of belonging, slid through her.

This was right. This time, with this man, she’d got it right. This man who was her friend, her confidant and her mentor. Her partner, the future father of longed-for children.

She wanted him. She wanted to mesh this amazing psychological bond they shared with a physical one.

She lifted her head up, greeting his lips as he slanted his mouth across hers. Tenderness, mixed with a restrained firmness sent shuddering ribbons of wonder swirling through her.

Her heart cried out in joy. He was waiting for her to tell him she wanted him, too.

She flicked her tongue against his lips. He tasted of salt. Of heat. Of thundering need—all the flavours she knew he would taste on her. She plunged her fingers into his thick hair and opened her mouth to his.

His restraint fell away and with a groan he plundered her mouth, taking what she offered him. His tongue explored, each flicking caress spiralling her need for him higher and higher.

His arms tightened around her—lust simmering with tenderness. He drew her so closely against him that not even water separated them.

It wasn’t close enough.

She felt him hard against her thigh. A thrill of secret power shot through her that she could do this to him. Her nipples responded, firming into peaks, pressing against his chest, tingling and tight. Aching. Aching for his touch.

His mouth moved from hers, trailing kisses along her neck and up along her ear. Butterfly-light kisses with pinpoint accuracy. Each kiss zeroed in, showering her in waves of quivering shivers.

Glorious sensation racked her. She threw back her head, her shoulders following, letting him and the water support her. Begging for him to extend his wondrous touch.

‘You’re completely stunning, Bec.’ His deep voice pulsated through her. ‘You’ve hidden amazing treasure under baggy clothing. I’ve spent hours fantasising about what you look like naked, and the reality will far exceed expectation.’

‘Really?’ The needy girl inside her rose up.

His gaze, hot and simmering, burned into hers. ‘Believe it.’ He pushed the Lycra aside, his thumb grazing a breast in decreasing circles, the touch bringing pleasure and exquisite pain exploding in mini-bursts all through her body.

Despite being in the water, fire raced across her skin, her breath becoming ragged gasps. She’d never been touched like this before, with such reverence. Such adoration.

He groaned and lowered his mouth, covering her breast, his tongue flicking slowly at her nipple before giving in to his hunger for her and taking it into his mouth.

Showers of silver light reined down on her. Her body took over from her brain, taking her into another realm, completely centred on the glorious sensations that streaked through her.

She bucked against him, the throbbing deep within her crying out for his touch. She moved to touch him, wanting to feel her hands in his hair, have her lips explore his face, but his hand slid between her legs, driving out every thought, blanking her mind.

He cupped her.

Sensation ruled. Need conquered.

She pushed against his hand, desperate for pressure, quivering to be filled. She raised her head.

‘Stay and enjoy, I want to give this to you.’ His silken voice stroked her.

Just like his hand. His fingers traced her slickness, wet with water, wet with longing. She should have felt exposed and vulnerable. But she felt safe and treasured.

Every barrier she’d built in eight years crumbled to dust. She gave herself up to him completely. Opening herself up to the sheer bliss of his touch.

Gentle, long, shallow strokes reduced her limbs to liquid muscle. Each tantalising caress slowly deepened, bringing her core to fever pitch, driving her higher and higher and higher until pleasure morphed with pain and the temptation of release taunted her.

Shuddering, she clenched against his fingers as his thumb circled her.

Reality receded. Sensation consumed her.

Colours exploded in her head as a cry of release left her throat.

A deliciously languid feeling rolled through her as her mind slowly came back to the present. Strong arms cradled her to a broad chest and she laid her head on Tom’s shoulders. ‘Thank you.’

His eyes, thick with desire, stared down at her. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘That was incredible. I had no idea it could feel like that.’ She trailed her forefinger across his chest, enjoying the dips and rises of toned muscle, and slowly snaked a path downward. ‘I think I could perhaps return the favour on the beach.’

He gripped her harder. ‘If you want me to walk to the beach, you’d better stop your hand’s adventures right now.’ His voice rasped.

She laughed, overjoyed that her touch could wield so much influence. Reluctantly she moved away from him. ‘I’ll race you to shore. This time I might just win.’

She ducked under the water in a shallow dive and swam the short distance until the length between her and the sand was only a few centimetres. She ran out of the water toward the picnic rug all set out for them. She bent down, quickly grabbing the rug, and ran toward a secluded area, surrounded by trees.