Perfect Strangers

41

Convulsing and crying out, I thrash underneath him as he f***s me. My orgasm rips through my body with such force it feels like a detonation. Clench and release, clench and release, wave after wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. Helpless, I give myself over to it as James drives into me, grunting, his mouth latching onto where the pulse throbs in my throat. Holding my wrists and sucking hard on my neck, he thrusts with powerful strokes, ravaging me.

Owning me.

He briefly falls still, then lets out a husky moan. His entire body jerks. He rears up on his hands, throws his head back, and shouts.

Then he starts to flex his pelvis again, f*****g me straight through his orgasm.

I clench my thighs tightly around his waist and hold on for the ride, trying to ignore Kelly’s warning voice inside my head telling me to be careful.

It’s far, far too late for that.

15

S

ometime near dawn,

the rain tapers off. I lie drowsing in the warm sanctuary of my lover’s arms, listening to his heart thump slowly and steadily against my cheek, feeling the wonderful soreness in my body, the tender spots where he used his teeth on my skin and sank his strong fingers deep into my flesh as he took me.

He’s marked me. In more ways than one.

I’m trying not to think about it.

James murmurs, “You’re awake.”

“So are you, apparently.”

“I never went to sleep.”

I tilt my head back and look up at him. He gazes down at me with soft eyes and an even softer smile. His dark hair is mussed and he badly needs a shave, but he’s so gorgeous he takes my breath away.

He bends his head and presses a tender kiss to my lips, then adjusts my body against his, pulling me closer so I’m snug against his side. His shoulder supports my neck. Our legs twine together under the rumpled sheets. He rests his cheek on my forehead and toys with my hair with one hand, while the other glides gently up and down my bare back.

He traces the bumps of my spine with his fingertips, slowly and reverently, as if he’s memorizing the shape of each one.

It feels so right, lying here with him like this. So intimate and right.

A well of raw emotion makes me hide my face in his neck and squeeze my eyes shut. I draw a breath and fight the feelings back. Get your s**t together. This isn’t personal. This is s*x. This is fantasy land. It’s nothing more than a summer fling.

“I know,” James murmurs, his lips moving against my hair. “I’m struggling with it, too.”

I’m so startled by his uncanny perception that for a moment all I can do is lie there in shock. When I’ve recovered, I say too loudly, “That is so weird. You have to stop doing that!”

“I can’t help it.”

“You could not say anything!”

“I’d still notice.”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t feel like you’ve hacked straight into my medulla oblongata!”

He chuckles, giving me a squeeze. “You mean your cerebrum.”

I scowl at his chin. “What?”

“The cerebrum performs higher intellectual functions like processing speech and emotion. The medulla oblongata handles involuntary bodily functions like sneezing or vomiting.”

I mutter, “I’m about to show you a few involuntary bodily functions right now, I’ll tell you what.”

He squeezes me again, trying to smother his laughter because he knows I’m pissed.

“Stop being smarter than me. It’s annoying.”

He adopts a serious tone. “Sorry. I forgot about your advanced degrees.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s probably an insult to your proud feminism, too.”

“Dude, you have no idea.”

He pauses. “Did you just call me ‘dude?’”

“I grew up in San Diego. If you’re not properly programmed with surfer slang by your senior year in high school, they don’t let you graduate.”

The moment it’s out, I realize my mistake. I close my eyes and rest my head against his shoulder, hoping he won’t notice what I’ve done.

But I’ve forgotten whom I’m dealing with. The man is a savant. He notices everything.

“A California beach girl,” he says, nuzzling his nose into my hair. “Does this mean you know how to surf?”

I debate whether or not to call Touchy Subject, but decide the cat’s already out of the bag on this one. Might as well go with it. “I tried to surf as a teenager, but it turns out staying indoors lost in books for an entire childhood doesn’t make a person particularly athletic.”

“You couldn’t get up on the board?”

“I wish it were that simple. Not only could I not stand up, I nearly drowned.”

He replies with complete confidence, “I could teach you how to surf. I have excellent water skills.”

“Water skills? You say that like you took a course or something.”

“An advanced course, yes. Water competency is fundamental.”

It’s a good thing I don’t use Botox, because I scrunch up my forehead so hard in response to that bizarre statement that I would’ve cracked my face.

After a time, James says, “Go ahead. Ask me.”

His tone is indulgent. He doesn’t sound worried. “What about Touchy Subject land?”

“I’ll waive it this time. But I get one free pass in return.”

“I just gave you a free pass when I said where I grew up!”

“Yes, but that was by accident. I want one on purpose.”

I look up at him and study his face. “You are a profoundly strange person.”

He smiles. “Right back atcha, hot stuff. Do we have a deal?”

Defeated, I sigh. “Okay. Deal.”

“Good. So you’ll want to know about the water competency, then.”

“Yes.”