waterfall with me.”
Her throat flexed in an audible swallow, and she stayed silent for several seconds. The longer she stared out the window, the more he feared he might’ve crossed the line from playful flirting to creepy stranger. He was just about to apologize when she leveled him with a determined look.
“Only if you’ll promise to join me.”
Anticipation pumped through Liam, the way it always did when he heard he’d been selected to play in a big match. Even after all these years of representing his country and playing in top teams, the thrill never lessened. Strange that the thought of stripping down with Tess had the same effect.
Tess’s hand lay on her thigh, limp and relaxed except for the thumb that beat out a soundless rhythm against her leg. Reaching out, Liam slid his hand under hers. The difference in size wasn’t too remarkable. She might look small compared to him, compared to the women he usually spent time with, but she was hardly tiny. Just...compact. But powerful. The muscles in her hands were surprisingly well developed. She’d said she played racquetball and cycled to work. It explained the strength he felt in her, the long, toned muscles of her thighs, which he’d struggled to avoid staring at too blatantly last night when she’d lounged in his hammock wearing shorts and a tank top with the straps of that damned ruffled pink bikini showing.
With his free hand, he stroked the thin skin covering her tendons. Soft. For some reason, he slipped his fingers between hers so they curled around her. Holding hands. Not something he often did. Most of his relationships were of the “I recognize you. Wanna fuck?” variety. Just a pleasant diversion, a way to blow off steam and—if he was honest—an invitation to a glitzy world that most rugby players never got to see. Film premieres. BAFTA after-parties. London Fashion Week piss-ups.
But it all got boring after a while. It’d got boring a while ago, but he’d been too slow to realize it.
Now he was in Venezuela, a country he’d never considered visiting before his sports psychologist had recommended an exotic eco-holiday away from his real life. And he met someone he’d never expected to. He’d found himself contemplating her secrets, wanting to ask her questions but holding back because he wasn’t ready to reveal his own. She would be leaving in a few days, but they both lived in London. Maybe this needn’t be a one-time thing. Maybe she wouldn’t mind too much when he confessed he wasn’t who he’d said he was.
Tess gave his hand a squeeze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Course. Why?”
“I don’t know. I offered to strip down and you didn’t show much reaction.”
Didn’t show much reaction? He was holding her bloody hand. Somehow it seemed more intimate to him than anything else he could’ve done. What did she want—for him to growl like an animal and start licking her as Tony watched in the rearview mirror? But something in her eyes gripped him. Resignation? Nerves? As if there was even a chance he might reject her idea of them skinny-dipping together. Whatever it was, the vulnerability gutted him.
He laid her hand on his thigh and pulled her against his side. She slotted under his arm perfectly but held herself stiff. Leaning down, he nuzzled her ear and kept his voice quiet so Tony wouldn’t overhear. “I’d love to go skinny-dipping with you. It’s been plaguing me since you ran into the lift in your transparent shirt.”
She inched closer and whispered, “What has been?”
“The thought of you, naked and wet. I’ve tried not to dwell on it, but every time I close my eyes I see you splashing around, pushing your hair off your face as you stand under a waterfall. Diving into the water with not a stitch of clothing covering you.”
She tilted her head back so she could look him in the eyes. Her tongue touched her lips, and they moved as if she were testing out words she wasn’t sure she wanted to say. He helped
Her throat flexed in an audible swallow, and she stayed silent for several seconds. The longer she stared out the window, the more he feared he might’ve crossed the line from playful flirting to creepy stranger. He was just about to apologize when she leveled him with a determined look.
“Only if you’ll promise to join me.”
Anticipation pumped through Liam, the way it always did when he heard he’d been selected to play in a big match. Even after all these years of representing his country and playing in top teams, the thrill never lessened. Strange that the thought of stripping down with Tess had the same effect.
Tess’s hand lay on her thigh, limp and relaxed except for the thumb that beat out a soundless rhythm against her leg. Reaching out, Liam slid his hand under hers. The difference in size wasn’t too remarkable. She might look small compared to him, compared to the women he usually spent time with, but she was hardly tiny. Just...compact. But powerful. The muscles in her hands were surprisingly well developed. She’d said she played racquetball and cycled to work. It explained the strength he felt in her, the long, toned muscles of her thighs, which he’d struggled to avoid staring at too blatantly last night when she’d lounged in his hammock wearing shorts and a tank top with the straps of that damned ruffled pink bikini showing.
With his free hand, he stroked the thin skin covering her tendons. Soft. For some reason, he slipped his fingers between hers so they curled around her. Holding hands. Not something he often did. Most of his relationships were of the “I recognize you. Wanna fuck?” variety. Just a pleasant diversion, a way to blow off steam and—if he was honest—an invitation to a glitzy world that most rugby players never got to see. Film premieres. BAFTA after-parties. London Fashion Week piss-ups.
But it all got boring after a while. It’d got boring a while ago, but he’d been too slow to realize it.
Now he was in Venezuela, a country he’d never considered visiting before his sports psychologist had recommended an exotic eco-holiday away from his real life. And he met someone he’d never expected to. He’d found himself contemplating her secrets, wanting to ask her questions but holding back because he wasn’t ready to reveal his own. She would be leaving in a few days, but they both lived in London. Maybe this needn’t be a one-time thing. Maybe she wouldn’t mind too much when he confessed he wasn’t who he’d said he was.
Tess gave his hand a squeeze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Course. Why?”
“I don’t know. I offered to strip down and you didn’t show much reaction.”
Didn’t show much reaction? He was holding her bloody hand. Somehow it seemed more intimate to him than anything else he could’ve done. What did she want—for him to growl like an animal and start licking her as Tony watched in the rearview mirror? But something in her eyes gripped him. Resignation? Nerves? As if there was even a chance he might reject her idea of them skinny-dipping together. Whatever it was, the vulnerability gutted him.
He laid her hand on his thigh and pulled her against his side. She slotted under his arm perfectly but held herself stiff. Leaning down, he nuzzled her ear and kept his voice quiet so Tony wouldn’t overhear. “I’d love to go skinny-dipping with you. It’s been plaguing me since you ran into the lift in your transparent shirt.”
She inched closer and whispered, “What has been?”
“The thought of you, naked and wet. I’ve tried not to dwell on it, but every time I close my eyes I see you splashing around, pushing your hair off your face as you stand under a waterfall. Diving into the water with not a stitch of clothing covering you.”
She tilted her head back so she could look him in the eyes. Her tongue touched her lips, and they moved as if she were testing out words she wasn’t sure she wanted to say. He helped
Similar Books
