Predictable.
The man eating up the sand in long, restless strides next to her was anything but predictable, however. Which made him perfect.
A burst of orange and yellow shot over their heads. The wind was strong enough that the beach ball was really flying. From the accompanying protest right before the ball hit the water with a sharp smack, the ball’s owner hadn’t expected it to go airborne quite so far or so fast. Small feet sprinted toward the surf, kicking up sand before the child came to a screeching halt at the water’s edge. He must have been told not to go in alone.
Her flip-flops hit the sand as Daeg shoved his cone into her hand. There was good-natured laughter in his voice as he pulled off his faded T-shirt. “I think we need a rescue here.”
The sight of that shirt coming off woke something inside her. The thin cotton had clung to some pretty impressive muscles, but bare chested he was spectacular, all thick ridges of muscles and sun-bronzed skin. He sported a handful of scars, including a long one that wrapped around his chest beneath two pairs of dog tags.
Still grinning, he plunged into the chilly water, jeans and all.
He dived effortlessly after the ball. Waterborne, the limp vanished and all she could see was the power of that body as he skimmed the waves.
“He your boyfriend?” The child by her side leaned into her, watching Daeg pop up to the surface, shaking water from his face as he snagged the ball.
“No.” That whole sworn-off-men thing.
“Why not?” Out of the mouths of babes.
Waist deep in the water, Daeg lobbed the ball back one-handed. The boy caught it, calling out his thanks as he scampered down the beach.
“Gallant,” she called. How many men did she know who would have been willing to soak themselves to the bone to rescue a child’s ball?
“Cold,” he countered, wading toward the shore. “We rescuers jump in first and think next. Occupational hazard.”
This was it.
This was her second chance.
The denim was molded to his powerful thighs as he left the surf. Wet, those jeans left nothing to the imagination—and boy, was she imagining things now. Starting with that sexy trickle down his chest as the water sluiced off him. Despite the June weather, the water was cold. His nipples were hard, tight nubs, and her mouth went dry. The look in his eyes was pure heat, though—and he was looking right at her. Stormy eyes. Dark green and framed by those ridiculously long lashes, still damp from his swim.
She could do this. Before she could second-guess herself, she carefully tucked his half-eaten cone on the ground beside his shirt and stepped into his body, sliding her arms up around his neck. The sensation of her skin meeting his was an icy shock.
“Nice rescue, sailor.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t spot any hesitation in him as he lowered his head to hers. The beach was almost empty now, the place all theirs. His eyes watched her until she wanted those lashes to drift shut, wanted him to lose himself in her. What if he didn’t desire her or she didn’t do this right? She shoved the hurtful memories of her ex’s accusations to a remote corner of her mind. Chances were, this could be different.
Better.
Then he groaned, not from pain, but from pleasure. His arms came up around her waist and back, one large hand resting on the back of her neck. Who knew that innocent touch could set her on fire so fast? “You’re killing me, you know that? I want you right now and we haven’t even finished our walk yet.”
Sweet relief and even sweeter arousal shot through her. She’d never been naughty, exactly, but now she tilted her head back as if she’d been born to flirt, trusting the weight of her head to that hand. Deliberately, she smiled, really slow. She could do this. Was doing this. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me right now.”
He smiled, and as he leaned in she forgot to breathe. Every inch of her was focused on the man holding her, bringing her mouth toward his mouth. His kiss. The pleasure was all consuming. She hadn’t known she could feel this way.
His mouth found the edge of her jaw, a soft brush of skin on skin. Was he waiting for her to do something? Tempting. His lips pressed a wicked pattern of kisses along her neck. She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but she knew she wanted to give it to him.
“Don’t tease,” she murmured. Her eyes drifted shut, closing against the last fiery rays of the setting sun.
“Not for too long,” he promised, and then his mouth found hers. Oh, this man knew how to kiss. His lips covered hers, exploring and tasting with every lick and stroke. His hand angled her head backward until she opened up for him and his tongue stroked inside her mouth.