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“I want to know,” he said.
“Fine. You watch that stupid ice fishing show like it’s a religion, you’re a horrible backseat driver, you drink out of the milk carton—and FYI, so does Ben—you don’t put the cap on your toothpaste, or put the lid down on the toilet, and you shush me when you’re watching sports.”
He stared at her. “That’s quite a list of shortcomings,” he eventually said. “Is that all?”
“No.” She shoved her wet hair from her face, though she managed to keep her regal stance, nose firmly in the air at nose-bleed height. “I held back because I didn’t want to be overly rude.”
He laughed softly. “Don’t hold back, Leah. Let’s hear all of it.”
“Well, your truck has more sporting goods than a store, you never say you’re sorry, and your girlfriends look like supermodels. I mean, what is that? There’s nothing wrong with real boobs, you know!”
He took it all in and had to admit that he couldn’t say she was wrong, about any of it. “And yet you call me The Picker.”
She ignored this. “And your mom told me that you need knee surgery again. You’re just too stubborn to get it done. So you can add ornery to the list.”
He blew out a slow breath. “It’s not ice fishing,” he said. “It’s crabbing. And sometimes I lose the cap on the toothpaste, or Kevin eats it. And I don’t need knee surgery; I’m fine.”
Leah snorted. “You’re always fine. Your knee could be falling off and you’d say you were fine.”
“I fail to see the problem.”
She snorted again, and he was starting to feel greatly insulted. “You’re not exactly a walk in the park, Leah.”
“No?”
“No. You’re flighty, you live for your every whim, you downplay any real emotion you feel.”
She hugged herself tight. “Good thing this is all pretend then, isn’t it,” she said softly.
“Yeah.”
She was freezing. And hauntingly gorgeous, so damn gorgeous standing there wet and silvery by the moon’s glow, like a goddess. It’s Leah, he had to keep reminding himself. Leah, who’d once beaten him in a marshmallow-eating contest, only to puke all over him. Leah, whose dark-green eyes had a way of telling the world to bite her. Leah, who’d run off on him and left him heartbroken. He took a step into her—for what exactly, he had no idea—and she poked a finger into his chest.
“God,” she said. “You’re so…” Words apparently failed her, but she let out a sound that managed to perfectly convey how annoying he was.
“Ditto,” he said, and then grabbed the finger drilling a hole between his pecs and tugged her hard enough that she lost her balance and fell against him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, entangling a hand in her wet hair.
She went still as stone and stared into his eyes. And then lowered her gaze to his mouth.
Yeah, they were in sync there. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Hers caught audibly in her throat, a good sign, he decided. Maybe she wouldn’t knee him in the balls. Testing the waters, he grazed her jawline with his teeth.
She shivered.
Then he slid his mouth to the very corner of hers and was rewarded by the clutch of her hands on his shirt. Having her hold on to him like this, like he was her only anchor, sent a bolt of lust straight through him. “Leah,” he murmured, hearing the surprise in his own voice, feeling the heat course through him as he finally—God, finally—covered her mouth with his.
Her lips parted for him eagerly, and he groaned, drowning in the erotic collision of her hot tongue and chilled, wet body.
Serious trouble. He was in serious trouble.
Because he had a taste of her now, a damn good taste, and it was better than he could have imagined, making him want the rest of her. With his fingers still in her hair, he pulled her in tighter, slanting his mouth across hers for more. She moved with him, into him, making the connection all the sweeter.
No. Sweet wasn’t the right word.
Hot. She was so hot she was turning him inside out. And then she made another of those soft, surrendering sighs deep in her throat, the sound slaying him. She still had a death grip on his shirt and had managed to catch a few chest hairs while she was at it. He didn’t care. Sliding a hand beneath his sweatshirt, he cupped her ass over her wet bikini bottoms, rocking into her.
She had to feel what this was doing to him. And given that she was breathing like she was running out of air, and still holding onto him tightly enough to bruise, she also had to know where this was going.
Kevin “woofed” softly, an I’m-tired-of-being-ignored woof. Jack waved at him to shut it and then kissed Leah some more, sinking deeper into her taste, her softness, her scent, all while wondering how the hell she could drive him crazy and make him ache at the same time. It was a feat that totally wrecked his equilibrium. Maybe it was just the kiss. Because holy shit, the kiss. He still had a handful of her sweet ass and he squeezed, wanting more. But they were outside and the night’s temp was quickly dropping. She was wet, trembling with the chill, and there was absolutely nowhere to go with this. Not here, not now. He’d had no business kissing her like he had an endgame, and knowing it, he regretfully pulled back.
She blinked as if waking up from a dream. “What—” She cleared her throat. “What was that?”
“Insanity. It’s going around.”
She rolled her eyes but staggered a step as if her equilibrium was off too, giving him some grim satisfaction.
Kevin whined again, and Jack gave him the evil eye. Kevin sighed and sat.
Leah touched her lips as if to hold in the taste of him. “I’m sorry,” she finally said.
“For?”
“Putting you in the position of having to pretend to like me.”
Ah, hell. He drew a deep breath. Pretending wasn’t his strong suit, and he could have said so. He could have also said that he liked her for real. But he wasn’t going to. He’d been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, and he wasn’t interested in a repeat performance. In fact, if he was going to pretend anything, it was going to be about not liking her. “Leah—” He broke off when Kevin nudged him in the gut and whined again. “What?” Jack asked him. “What’s the matter?”
Kevin hunched and unloaded a mountain of poop. “Oh, for—” Before Jack could finish that sentence, Kevin shifted over a few feet and hunched again.
“Holy cow.” Leah covered her nose. “What the hell are you feeding him?”
“Everything.” Jack went to his truck for a shovel. He’d just tossed the bag into one of the trash receptacles when Kevin hunched again.
“Are you kidding me?” Jack demanded.
Kevin panted happily. Clearly feeling fifty pounds lighter, the dog pawed at the sand with his back legs, head proudly lifted as he then pranced toward the truck as if he were king.
Leah was still standing there looking shell-shocked.
“I know,” Jack said. “It’s bad. Breathe through your mouth. It helps.”
She did just that, pulling his sweatshirt up over her mouth so all he could see was her eyes. It didn’t matter. He had the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her body still in his palms. He wanted to drag her up against him and plunder. Talk about bad ideas. “It’s late,” he said.
“Is that what you would have told your date tonight when she invited you in at the end of the night? That it was late?”
No. He’d have had her naked before midnight.
Naked and happy.
But this was Leah…and he tried really hard to not think about Leah naked.
Or naked and happy…
Except lately, he seemed to be doing nothing but.
Ever since she’d sprung this whole relationship thing on him, he’d thought of little else, and it was slowly driving him over the edge.
But he could get over that.
Or at least he could try.
Except now there was also this, her, in a little, itty-bitty, black bikini and his sweatshirt