“Seems you forgot your suit,” Nate said huskily in her ear, pulling her back against his front until every delicious inch was touching. She rested her head on his shoulder and floated while his hands shaped and explored, sliding over her wet body and finally finding a home on her breasts.

“Seems to be a trend today.” Frankie turned, wrapping her arms around his amazing shoulders, her leg around his flat stomach and—hello. Nate was slick, and wet, and hard. Everywhere. “But if it bothers you, I can go to the bike and grab mine.”

“And ruin a perfectly good skinny dip?” He watched her through water spiked lashes, while his hands slid all the way down her bare back before cupping her backside to pull her tight against him. The heat between their bodies doubled on contact, erasing the chills on her body and leaving behind a scorching flush. “Nah, I’m good.”

Then his mouth was on hers. And, yeah, he was good all right. So good that she could actually feel her insides reaching melting point. So good that she was in trouble, serious trouble of falling in complete and total like with him. Especially when his mouth, cool from the water, gently worked hers, his tongue applying the faintest amount of pressure as he swam them backward toward the dock.

Tilting her head to the side, Frankie slid her hands up and into his wet hair, pulling him even closer. Then Nate stood, rising out of the now waist-deep water, which sluiced down their bodies. His hard chest glistened with moisture in the afternoon sun and a thin patch of wet hair trailed down the plains of his flat stomach, disappearing beneath the water.

His lips moved against her ear while his thumb brushed over her tattoo. “A daffodil?”

“It’s a symbol of rebirth, new beginnings.” It also symbolized unrequited love. She got it the day she’d turned eighteen, and since that was only a few months after her father had passed and she’d learned of his will, it had seemed fitting. But now, after what Nate had said, she wondered.

Feeling too serious in an already vulnerable position, she tipped her head back and guided his mouth lower, settling in just above the hollow of her throat. “What were you expecting, barbed wire-covered motorcycle handles?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting a cute, feminine, sunny flower,” he said, pulling back, his eyes heavy and intense. “Nothing about this… about you is what I expected.”

Nothing about this was what she’d expected either. The way he looked at her, held her, touched and molded her with his hands as though she were precious. Frankie never expected to fall—ever—but she was afraid that the warm ache that had taken up residence in her heart was a whole lot more than just complete and total like.

Frankie’s chest started tightening, really fast and really effectively, damn near cutting off her air. Thinking about things such as “like”—or the other word that started with L and had four letters—made her lungs burn. Lust, chemistry, raging hormones she could deal with. She was good at physical, great even. This emotional crap—it was just too much.

So Frankie, taking it back to a level that didn’t inspire hyperventilation, locked her thighs around him, sliding her center up the smooth underside of his hard length and then reversing to sink back down, enveloping him between her. Nate’s eyes rolled back and his hips bucked a little, as though unable to get enough, increasing the friction and taking them away from cosmically connecting back to pure carnal need.

Her head began to spin, which was a good thing because she could almost ignore her heart going soft. Picking up the pace she rose and lowered, again and again, increasing the pressure until his arms tightened like a vice, smashing their bodies together. But it wasn’t enough. Needing more, she rose up, her nipples scraping against his chest, until his tip was positioned at her entrance. The man was impressive and more than ready.

With a sigh, she eased down stopping after only an inch, loving the slight burn as she stretched to accommodate him. Relaxing her thighs she let gravity take over, and slowly began to slip down farther when suddenly his hands tightened on her ass, holding her in place.

“You feel so damn good.” His words were a low rumble that vibrated all the way between her thighs.

“If you let go, I promise I feel even better.” She rolled her hips and he growled.

“Can’t. Condom. On dock. In shorts,” he breathed, holding her still against him. The muscles in his neck tightened and his jaw clenched. Taking in a deep pull of oxygen he dropped his gaze to where their chests were mashed together and swallowed. “I want this so bad right now that I’m tempted to just say fuck it.”

She wanted this too. Wanted so badly to feel him, inside of her, with nothing between them.

“Frankie,” he warned and she kissed him quiet. She gave him a sweet, languid kiss that lasted for a long, erotic moment. They were touching everywhere, the sun hot on their exposed skin, while the water lapped around them as everything except their mouths remained perfectly still.

She pulled back, taking his lower lip with her. “Then fuck it.”

“Frankie,” he said again. But this time his tone was desperate, ragged, telling a different story.

She smiled. “I’m on the pill.”

His eyes searched hers. “You sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” And to show him she arched her hips back and down, taking him inside of her in one fluid motion. She inhaled at the pressure, breathing in his breath, completely lost in a wave of mind-numbing pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled. “That feels so good, Francesca.”

He lifted his hips as she sank back down and they quickly found a rhythm. The man was a master; after only one night he already knew how to touch her, tease her, drive her crazy. And he was fast learning how to shatter her defenses.

“You are so beautiful,” he said against her lips.

“Harder,” she rasped, pumping her hips faster, wanting his sweet words but not sure how to handle them.

“Slow and easy, honey,” he whispered against her wet skin. “Just enjoy.”

She was enjoying it—fast and hard and without the sugary endearments, thank you very much. But his hands settled on her hips, taking over and setting a leisurely but sensual pace while he whispered beautiful words in her ear. Words she’d waited her whole life to hear someone say, only she wasn’t sure if she could believe them—that she was even considering it was a sign that she was in over her head.

“Harder,” she demanded, coming all the way up before slamming back down and taking what she wanted. She dug her nails into his back and when he was too busy panting in her ear to whisper she finally felt her body relax, felt her walls tighten, and with one last thrust a pulse of pleasure washed over her, while a wave of emotion crashed into her stealing her breath.

Nate was right there with her. He buried his face in her neck and sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin at the slope of her shoulder as they came apart.

Drained and breathless, they stood there, tangled in each other’s arms, swaying with the pond’s gentle current. The faint pressure of his fingers danced along her spine, his lips soothing the sting of his earlier bite. There was so much weight in their unspoken connection she felt as though it would pull her under.

“I thought you said nothing ever bites here,” she joked, but nothing about this situation felt funny.

“Sweet cheeks, it looks like you’ve caught the only thing that does.”

“Caught?” The word stuck in her throat.

He pulled back, just enough to look at her. Just enough to see the awe in his eyes as he said, “You’ve had me hooked for over a decade, I’ve just been waiting for you to reel me in.”

* * *

Something was wrong.

Frankie hadn’t said more than four words to him after they’d had sex. And they were, “Not bad, stud boy.”

Not all that encouraging for a guy who’d just had the best sexual experience of his entire life. Or for a guy who’d wanted today to mean as much to Frankie as it had to him.

Hell, he could still smell her on his skin, taste her on his lips and instead of lying naked together in bed talking about what was happening between them, he spent the better part of the night sitting alone on the couch watching ESPN while Frankie disappeared outside to brush Mittens. When she didn’t come back in, he’d grabbed a bite, showered, and picked up a book. That had been two hours ago, giving him ample time to think himself into a serious state of frustration.

Being patient wasn’t the problem. He was willing to give Frankie the time she needed if in the end she finally admitted what was going on between them was more than just sex. But he wasn’t willing to let her fears keep them stagnant. And he sure as hell wasn’t willing after today to go backwards, which considering the fact that Frankie stood in the darkened hallway, boots in hand, tiptoeing toward her room was exactly what she had in mind.

He stood at the fork in the hallway and clicked on the light. Frankie looked up at him and froze. To her right was his master bedroom, to the left her own personal space. Nate had a bad feeling that if he didn’t fix this now, she would forever walk on the invisible line that had been drawn between them since he’d kissed her in high school.

“Helps if you turn on the light.”

Frankie straightened as though startled to find him there. Her hair was back in its braid, but she still had on the shorts, tank, and no bra from earlier. She was windblown, covered in fur, absolutely beautiful, and confusing as hell. “I thought you were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you.”