Skintight (19 page)

Finally, he eased his chest up slightly and turned to
kiss the damp tangle of hair sticking to her temple. “You still breathing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Am I?”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “Hard to tell without a mirror. I'd run get one, but I'm not sure I can walk.” She tried lifting one arm but was simply too lethargic to follow through and it dropped back onto the bed from the meager two-inch elevation she'd managed. “What did you do to me? I seem to have turned into a jellyfish.” She'd never felt so relaxed in her entire life.

“Tell me about it.” He rubbed his chin against her curls. “I sure hope you enjoyed yourself, because that may've been my final performance. It was one for the record books—and for that I thank you. But I think you may have just killed me.”

There was one part of him, however, that still had life in it, for when she stretched luxuriously beneath him a minute later, interesting things began to happen. His penis, which had begun to soften inside of her, suddenly pulsed. Then it grew harder. Within seconds it was plainly
very
happy to see her.

“Then again,” he said, raising his head to give her a crooked grin, “maybe not.”

A
LIGHT SLAP ON
Treena's sheet-covered bottom startled her out of a sound sleep. The hand that administered it stayed to soothe away the slight sting and that felt good, so she didn't bother opening her eyes to see why she was being manhandled. Instead she settled more firmly into her comfy spot and let the tides of slumber begin to suck her out to sea once again.

“Up and at 'em, babycakes,” Jax's voice commanded. “You're sleeping the day away.”

“Yeah?” she mumbled into her pillow. “Wha's your point?”

“That time's a-wasting.”

She yawned, which caused her to suck in a mouthful of feather-plumped Egyptian cotton. Coughing, she spit it out. “If you hadn't kept me up half the night doing a marathon session of the hootchie-kootch, this wouldn't be a problem. But you did and I'm tired. Go away.”

His laugh stroked its way down her spine, and the mattress next to her hip suddenly depressed as he sat. “Hootchie-kootch, huh? I like that.”

She heaved a big sigh into her pillow. “You're not going to let me sleep, are you?”

“Nope.”

She rolled onto her back and pried her heavy eyes open, gazing up at him.

Ah, man, no one should look that good at the crack of dawn. Peering at the bedside clock, she saw it was almost noon but dismissed the fact as a minor detail. Close enough, considering Jax had gotten even less sleep than she had, if his well-groomed appearance was anything to go by. His eyes were clear and bright as a newborn's after a satisfying nap, his jaw had a freshly shaven satin sheen, and his still pristine white T-shirt clung like a second skin to that beautifully proportioned upper body. Sitting there hip to hip with her, he looked every bit as loose-limbed and relaxed as she felt.

Except she had the feeling that instead of looking like a god, she more closely resembled the wrath of one.

He brushed a curl away from her left eye. “Get dressed, sleepyhead. Much as a hot young thing like you would probably prefer spending the entire day wrecking your bed with me,” he said, treating her to a virtuous smile, “I'm not that kind of man.”

She guffawed. “Yes you are.”

Laughing, he got up off the bed and reached down to pull her to her feet. “Okay, I'm exactly that kind of man. But the weather's broken, it's a balmy eighty-three degrees outside and I thought we could take a picnic out to Lake Mead. Maybe rent us a little sailboat.”

Disappointment filled her. “Oh, Jax, I'd
love
that. But I've got studio time scheduled for two o'clock, and I can't afford to blow off practice.”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, as well, but all he said was, “When's the audition for your show?”

“Next Tuesday. And I'm frankly worried about it, so I need every session I can cram in between now and then.” Passing the audition had been her driving force these past four months, but she found herself stepping close to wrap her arms around Jax's waist. Stroking her cheek against his warm chest, she looked up at him. “I'm sorry.”

“Hey, this is not a problem.” Wrapping her in his own arms, he propped his chin on the crown of her head. “Today's the first nonblistering Saturday I've seen since I've been in town, so the lake's bound to be a zoo anyway. We'll just push out our plans to next Wednesday instead. After you've nailed down another year's employment and I've won the tourney we'll both have all the time in the world to enjoy ourselves.”

“You're a real glass-half-full kinda guy, aren't you? I'd give a bundle to be a fraction so confident.”

He squeezed her. “You're gonna blow 'em out of the auditorium.”

Dear God, she loved this man. The truth of it burned through her, warming her clear to the tips of her fingers, to the ends of her Scarlet Passion painted toes. She'd known it deep in her heart last night but hadn't been ready to fully acknowledge her feelings. Because on a logical level, it was just too unlikely for words, wasn't it? She and Jax had known each other for less than two weeks, so how could she possibly think she was in love with him?

Yet she thought precisely that, and she simply couldn't deny it any longer. The way she felt was so much more than simple lust, so far beyond sex, no matter how unexpectedly marvelous last night had been, that it wasn't even funny. And she needed to acknowl
edge these feelings—if only to herself—had to admit that this sensation warming her from the inside out was love. Heady, scary, genuine love for one particular man.

Pure and simple.

Except, of course, that nothing ever was that simple. She didn't, for instance, intend to burden Jax with her feelings. They
had
only known each other for a very short time, and the last thing she wanted to do was send him hotfooting it away from her because she'd freaked him out by becoming too serious way too fast.

She needed to keep it light. Extracting herself from his arms, she stepped back. “We still have a couple hours before I have to be at the studio,” she said. “You wanna go take a swim in the pool?” Then with a wry twist of her lips she amended, “Or in my case, a splash and a wallow?”

“You don't swim?”

“I do…just not very well. I never had formal lessons, but my uncle Frank taught me and my sisters sort of piecemeal at the town pool. I can get from one end of a lap to the other, and I don't even look too terribly awkward doing it. But I'm not a strong swimmer. So mostly I just play around.” She shot him a cocky smile. “Still, I've got stylin' in my bikini down cold. And I can hold down a lounge chair with the best of them.”

“Hey, we all gotta have our strengths. Now, me, I do a mean cannonball.” He hesitated, then said, “I don't have trunks, but I noticed some stores not far from here. Why don't I go pick something up while you get into that bikini?”

“Deal.”

He headed for the bedroom door but turned back before he reached it. “Just one more thing before I go.”

“What's that?”

He crooked a finger at her. “Come closer. I can't tell you from way over there.”

Smiling, she crossed the room to stand in front of him. “What?”

He hooked his arm around her waist, pulled her to him and kissed her. Raising his head a moment later, he said softly, “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, too.” She cocked her head to one side. “I didn't even think to ask, but do you want breakfast or a cup of coffee or something?”

“Nah, I'm good. I made myself a piece of toast while you were sleeping.”

“Then I'll make myself a slice, too, and be ready when you get back.”

“I'll be as quick as I can.”

He was gone less than a half an hour. When he got back he changed into his new suit in the bedroom and rejoined Treena in the kitchen where she was throwing sunscreen and bottled water into her tote. Coming up behind her as she bent over to see if there was anything that could remotely be considered a snack in the fridge, he snugged up behind her and leaned forward to kiss her neck.

A shiver shimmied down her spine, and she turned in his arms to kiss him on the lips. Happiness welled so fast and furiously inside of her she feared it might spill over in the form of tears. Pulling back, she grasped him by the biceps and pushed him an arm's length away to check out his new bathing trunks.

He'd donned a pair of black baggies with a band of blue-and-purple palm fronds around the hips. “No Speedo for you, huh?”

“Please.” Looking pained, he made a disparaging noise. “Real men don't wear Speedos.”

“Real men beat hairy chest and drag real women off to cave by hair,” she said.

He grinned at her. “All right, smart-ass,
I
don't wear Speedos.”

“Fair enough. You look mighty fine in your surfer boys, by the way.” And he did, particularly since that was the only stitch of clothing in a long, naked expanse of Jax. She reached out and snapped the waistband riding low beneath his navel. “I especially like the way you color-coordinated the accent band with your eyes.”

He tossed his sun-streaked hair and gave her a vacuous smile. “Absolutely, dude. Fashion coordination is, like, too bitchin' fer words.”

She laughed. “Perhaps you should have gone with the Speedo after all. I think the baggies already melted a few brain cells.”

They headed down to the pool where they staked out a couple of lounge chairs in the shade of a nearby palm. There were surprisingly few people in the enclosed area, only a young mother who was packing up a rambunctious little boy even as Treena and Jax spread their towels out on the chairs, and two twentysomething women. The latter ogled Jax until Treena turned the evil eye on them in silent warning. With twin shrugs, they turned back to the conversation Jax and Treena's entrance had interrupted.

Jax snagged her hand as she was pulling her bottle of sunscreen out of her bag. “Let's go in the pool,” he suggested huskily. “If I get started spreading lotion all over you I can't guarantee I won't drag you back up to your apartment.”

Looking at him standing there with the sun shining in his hair and sheening his lightly tanned shoulders, she was tempted to thrust the bottle of sunblock into his hands, then race him back up to her bedroom. But she also wanted a chance to simply play with him, to further test the compatibility they'd been building without the sexual component clouding the issue. So she dropped the lotion onto the small table next to the lounges. “Let's see that cannonball, sport.”

“Damn,” he breathed. “I was hoping you'd insist on full SPF protection.” Stepping close, he ran a fingertip down her arm. “After all, you've got all that sensitive skin.”

A quiver dusted her nerve endings, and she leaned toward him.

With a soft-spoken curse, he stepped back. “This trying to be a new-age enlightened guy is harder than it looks. I hope to hell that water's cold.” And taking several giant steps, he leapt high and tucked himself into a tight ball. His full two-hundred-plus pounds hit the water with a force that generated a splash so huge it drenched Treena from head to foot and even spattered the two women sitting quite some distance away.

Shrieking in outrage they jumped to their feet, slapping at the water sprinkling their hair and suits as if it were toxic waste. When Jax shot to the surface a moment later, tossing his wet hair out of his eyes, they sent him a collective look that should have sent him straight to the bottom of the pool, sliced, diced and julienned. When he remained cheerfully afloat, they gathered up their belongings and stormed out of the pool enclosure.

He looked from their stiff retreating backs to
Treena's drenched figure. “Uh, my cannonball must be even more killer than I remembered.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, God, it was beautiful.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “You're not mad, then? You don't mind getting soaked?”

“Seems like the whole point of going to a swimming pool to me.” Her laugh deepened. “Whataya wanna bet, though, that that was the closest those women's suits ever came to chlorinated water? Ah, me.” She wiped her streaming eyes. “They were not happy campers. Guess they won't be giving you the eye any longer.”

Like every man she'd ever known, he came to attention at the news of being scoped out by a good-looking woman. He glanced from the now empty gates back to Treena. “They were checking me out?”

“Big time. But, tough luck, buddy, because you just officially drowned any possibility of ever scoring with either of 'em.” Then, still grinning, she launched herself at him from the side of the pool.

He caught her and they both went under. As if remembering her warning that she was an unsure swimmer, however, he promptly brought them back to the surface.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned back. “Hey, there, big boy,” she said, lying back in the water and spreading her arms to keep afloat. “You sure know how to clear a pool. I
like
that in a man.”

“I like you in a woman.” His hands tightened on her hips, holding her to him. “And nice as it is to have pretty women notice me, I'm not interested in anyone else.”

“Glad to hear it, because I intend to keep you very, very busy.” Then, unhooking her legs, she used her feet to push off his chest and shot backward toward the shallow end of the pool.

He gave chase, and they spent the next twenty minutes frolicking like a couple of kids. They played tag and leapfrog, swam between each other's spread legs and took turns standing on their hands underwater for the other's amusement.

The tone changed when Treena said, “No, wait, I can do better,” and performed her second handstand. This time she concentrated on the placement of her hands, pretending the floor of the pool was just another dance floor. Once focused, she executed perfect form, hands firmly planted against the concrete, feet together and toes pointed, a slight arch in her back for balance. Then, knowing she was showing off shamefully, but unable to resist, she separated her legs to splits position. She felt Jax's hands skim her thighs at the same time she began to run out of breath and went into a back bend, her left leg continuing over until her foot touched bottom. Planting it, she followed through with the right foot and raised her upper body out of the water, flinging her arms over her head in triumph. “Ta-da.”

Jax stepped close, his fingers reaching out to stroke down her throat. “Treena is a very, very flexible girl.”

Heart beginning to pound at the heat pulsing out at her from those intense blue eyes, she said through a suddenly tight throat, “Yes, she is.”

“All that flexibility is giving me ideas.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Hot. Raunchy. Ideas,” he whispered. Raising his head he looked her in the eyes. “And
unless you want to be nailed against the wall of this very public swimming pool in about, oh, say, the next thirty seconds, I think perhaps we should retire to your place.”