Private Maneuvers (Wingmen Warriors 4)

Darcy arched against him, her nails jabbing into his back with a half-second warning before her moan split the air. Again, she bowed against him. Her leg locked tighter. Intense. Complete.

Incredible.

She sagged in his arms, her leg around him slackening, her heated huffs of breath blowing over his chest. "Oh...my...gosh. I think I've forgotten how to breathe."

Max let a chuckle rumble free. He should have known sex with Darcy would be fun as well as intense.

"More," she demanded.

He wanted to comply, but how much farther could it go anyway, out in the open on a sandbar?

Hell. He knew exactly how far he wanted it to go, out in the open. Darcy soaking up the sun and radiating it right back into him. Him inside her.

She wanted it, too. No question. Her breathy moans and needy arch against him plastering damp Lycra to his chest answered him louder than any words.

The man he'd been two and a half years ago might have taken her up on the offer. But she deserved a better man than that. Now wasn't the time or place for more.

Her hand snaked to the waist of his dive shorts. "Come on, Max. Your turn."

He covered her hand with his. "Later."

"Now." She skimmed her hand lower until her hand found him.

Now sounded good. But not safe.

Her hand curved.

Damn it. "Not now, Darcy." He vise-gripped her wrist. "Later, when you're thinking more clearly. When we're back at the island and can talk this through."

She stared at him with stunned eyes. "You really aren't going to finish?"

His throbbing libido shouted in protest. Never had he been so hot, hard and turned on and they hadn't even had sex.

And they couldn't, not here. Not now, regardless of how much he wanted it. And, man, did he ever want to lose himself in Darcy.

Finally he brushed a thumb over her damp lips. "No."

She bit his thumb.

Not gently. And not sexually. Her eyes sparked as she opened her mouth and swiped his hand away. "I am such an idiot. Silly ol' me thought we had some kind of special connection."

She shoved to her feet and tugged her swimsuit back in place.

Ah, hell, he'd screwed up again. "Darcy, I'm not saying never. I'm just questioning the timing.">She shot Max a thumbs-up, sat on the edge of the boat and fell over backward into the water. Following, he let the ocean swallow him with familiarity.

Lukewarm water. Sunshine streaming through. The roaring of the breathing, a Darth Vader, rushing-in-and-out sound.

Floating into sight, Darcy swept her arms by her sides in a siren welcome. Damn but she was gorgeous, a natural beauty that had nothing to do with makeup or artifice. A novelty for a man who lived with deception.

Max let the air out of his BC vest—buoyancy compensator—and began his descent. Sinking along with him, Darcy pinched her nose through the flexible mask to equalize the pressure.

Down.

Down.

Down with Darcy into the clear water toward the blanket of luminescent greens and rainbow streaks of color below, leaving the world above until it was only the two of them.

Maybe he was overcomplicating things. Likely her silence meant she was ready to cut ties. For the best, damn it.