Pieces Of Us (Angel Sands 6)

“Thanks. I kind of like it myself.” He grabbed his glass and walked over to join her, staring at the expanse of water. The dark blue waves were tipped with orange and pink from the setting sun. “It’s the first thing I look at in the morning, so I can determine how good or bad the conditions are for the boat trip that day.” He tipped his head to look down at her. “And surfing, of course.”

“Have you always surfed?”

“Ever since I can remember.” He ran his hand through his thick hair, pushing it away from his brow. “I was a young kid when I started. I’d go out with Lucas, Breck, and Jackson on Saturday mornings. Jack’s dad taught us. He was a pro when he was younger. Long retired now.”

“Can you imagine yourself living away from the water?”

He frowned. “No, not really. It’s part of me. Not just the location for my job or my leisure activity. It’s like my lungs or something. Essential for life.”

She swallowed a mouthful of wine, then leaned against him, the top of her head touching the hard curve of his chest. “Sometimes you remind me of a water god,” she told him softly. “Neptune or Poseidon. I bet if you were cut open you’d bleed saltwater.”

He laughed. “I’d prefer if you didn’t check out that theory.” He slid his arm around her shoulder, his rough fingertips feathering her bare shoulder. “God, I’m glad you came tonight. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

She smiled up at him. “I’ve been thinking about you, too. And the way you’ve made my muscles ache.”

“Did I hurt you?” He frowned. He thought he’d been gentle. Being a big guy, he’d learned not to put his weight on a woman, to be careful unless she asked for it a little rougher.

“No. I’m just a little out of practice. Used a few muscles I haven’t needed for a while.”

The thought warmed him. “Maybe we both were.” He traced a line from her shoulder to her throat, then tangled his fingers into her soft hair.

“Not you,” she whispered. “You’re at the peak of your game.”

He leaned his head down, angling hers until they were a whisper away from each other. “I haven’t come like that in a long time,” he told her softly. “Maybe never. You do things to me, Autumn. Things I can’t stop thinking about.” He brushed his lips against hers, the simple contact sending a siren call to his groin. He’d been hard since he touched her skin, but now he was aching. She turned until she was facing him, her back to the window, her front pressed against his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

In her bare feet she was a foot shorter than him, and he had to bend his back and his neck to get the right angle. Sliding his hands down her sides, he lifted her against him, pressing her against the window pane to steady her, as she wrapped her thighs around his hips.

“Sorry,” he murmured against her lips. “It’s just easier.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she told him as their lips moved together. “It’s sexy as

hell to have a guy who can lift me.” She rolled her hips against him, the sensation making him harder than ever. He pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue plundering, his hands digging into her sweet behind. He turned to carry her to his room, where they’d have a little more privacy.

The shrill bleep of the oven timer made him stop in his tracks. “Damn, it’s the pot pies.”

“You made pies?” she grinned, her legs still wrapped around his waist. “Put me down right now and check them. I don’t want them to get burned.”

“I’m the one who’s burning,” he muttered, releasing his hold on her as she slid down to the floor. He was still painfully hard and had to adjust himself before he walked over to the kitchen and washed his hands before turning off the timer. Then he opened the oven, watching as the steam escaped from the door, smelling the savory aroma of chicken and pastry.

“It looks like it needs another ten minutes,” he called out.

“Then come back here,” she said, grinning at him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do while we wait.”

* * *

“Where did you learn to cook pot pies?” Autumn asked, leaning her elbow on the mattress and propping her chin on her palm. The sheet was loosely gathered around her, and underneath it she was naked.

They both were, thanks to the way they’d torn each others clothes off after dinner, leaving a trail of devastation from the living room into the bedroom.

“Deenie taught me. I was the first of all our friends to have my own place. The day after I moved in she came over and insisted on showing me three things to cook. An omelet, chili, and chicken pot pie. She was afraid I’d starve to death otherwise.”

“She taught you well.” Autumn rubbed her swollen stomach. “It was delicious.”

He grinned. “Well thank you. I aim to please.”

Yeah, he did, and her body was still tingling thanks to him.

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” he told her softly. “Before I do something about it.”