Mindful that Larissa said she was going to give Peter a nap, Jake avoided the front door and walked around to the backyard. As he approached the side of the house he heard soft Asian music playing. He rounded the corner to the back of the house and found Larissa lying on a yoga mat in a shady area.
He watched her change poses. He admired her grace and style. But from his position he could also see her cleavage and any altruistic thoughts he had were banished by the rush of desire.
He waited until she finished her routine by sitting in a meditative pose. She looked peaceful and serene—untouchable. And she evoked in him a savageness he'd always tried to tamp down and hide.
Clearing his throat, he climbed the steps of the deck. Her eyes snapped open and she stared at him. There were beads of perspiration on her neck and chest. His first impulse was to lick them from her skin. His eyes narrowed. His breathing changed and he felt arousal spread throughout his body. Damn. This reaction to her didn't fit into his well-ordered plans for Larissa.
She scrambled to her feet when she realized he was watching her. The formfitting leggings and snug sleeveless shirt left little of her body to the imagination. It was the first time he'd seen her in anything that wasn't loose and concealing. Even that night they'd made love, she'd insisted they leave the lights low.
Her legs were long and curvy. Her hips a real woman's and not a model's. Her breasts were pert and, he knew from experience, just the right size to nestle in his palms.
The spandex shirt clung to the full globes and Jake had to swallow when her nipples budded against the cloth under his gaze. She stopped moving and he glanced up at her face. A pink blush covered her neck and cheeks, but she didn't cross her arms over her chest.
"Are you sure about this platonic thing?" he asked, his voice husky with need.
"No, I'm not sure."
He took two large steps toward her, closing the gap between them. She didn't smell sweaty the way he did after exercise. It reminded him of how different the two of them were. How different men and women were and how exciting those differences could be.
Unable to resist, he traced with his finger a bead of perspiration that rolled down between her breasts, disappearing under her shirt. She shivered when he reached the border where skin and fabric met. He watched goose bumps spread over her skin and, hesitating only a second, he dipped his finger under her shirt.
She was just as soft to the touch as he remembered. Her breasts appeared a bit bigger than before and he let his finger slide under one of them. She bit her lip and tilted her head to the side, watching him with hooded eyes.
She swayed and he brought his other arm up around her waist, holding her the way he'd dreamed of since he'd opened her car door this morning. He pulled his finger free of her shirt and lifted it to his lips.
Her pupils dilated as she watched him and her breath rushed in and out as if she'd just completed a five-mile run instead of a yoga routine.
The salty taste of her on Jake's tongue only whetted his appetite for more of her. He leaned toward her. She gripped his biceps and rose on her tiptoes. Her breath fanned against his cheek.
He bent and captured her mouth. She opened for him with a sigh that told him she'd needed this embrace as much as he had. Her fingernails bit into his arms as she returned his kiss.
He cupped her bottom and brought her more fully against him. Her hardened nipples pushed into his chest. He swallowed her moan as he deepened their embrace. He reached again for her breast, sliding his hand up under her shirt this time. She shuddered when he palmed a nipple.
He slid his mouth from hers, down the slope of her neck until he could trace the V-neck of her shirt with his tongue. She trembled again in his arms, her hands clutching at his head.
The phone rang inside the house and Larissa pushed him away, stumbling, her eyes wide and wounded. She hurried into the house to take the call and he cursed under his breath. Pivoting on his heel, he walked to the edge of the deck.
He braced his hands on the railing, bowing his head and breathing deeply, searching for his control. Hell, what was he thinking? He hadn't come here to make love to Larissa. In fact, considering their situation it was the last thing he should be doing. Further evidence, as if he needed it, that he wasn't cut out for responsibility. Maybe he should rethink the custody suit. He knew it was male pride motivating him.
He heard her return, sensed her standing in the doorway watching him. She cleared her throat and he glanced over his shoulder at her.
She'd put on a large sweatshirt while she'd been in the house and crossed her arms over her chest. He didn't know what to say to her and he had the feeling if he opened his mouth he'd say something stupid instead of acting like the rather suave guy he liked to think he was.