Unwrap Me. Susan Lyons

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      At seven that night, Nick was on her doorstep, bare calves goosebumped below his heavy coat. Juggling bundles, he freed a finger to ring her bell.

      “Hi, Nick.” She let him in, eyes widening as she took in his bare legs and feet in thongs. “You braved the elements on your way to the beach.”

      “Hey, there, beautiful. You’re worth it.” He thrust a flashy beach towel and wicker picnic basket into her arms and then dropped a kiss on her lips. Man, she smelled good. That peach-rose scent, but something tangy, too, like limes. “Hope you have a bikini on under those clothes.” She wore a sage-green T-shirt and white shorts, and her feet were bare.

      Oh, yeah, he remembered those long, shapely legs wrapping around his waist. He remembered the rest of her, too, naked in the firelight, and his chilled body was heating up now.

      She winked. “You’ll find out. Once we’re, uh, at the beach.”

      He kicked off his thongs and followed her. In the living room, the fireplace was burning.

      “Think of it as a beach fire,” she said, tossing him a grin.

      “Good idea. After all, the sun’s setting.” He turned off the lamp. “It’ll chill off if we don’t have a fire.” He put his bags on the coffee table, then shrugged out of his coat. Between the fire and his arousal, he was burning up.

      Jude took in his getup. “Let me guess: you’re into surfing.”

      “Yeah. I like most sports.” He’d chosen his most colorful board shorts, bright green with a pattern of yellow hibiscus flowers. He’d picked them up on holiday in Hawaii, along with the tee that proudly proclaimed, I SURFED THE BANZAI PIPELINE—AND LIVED!

      “I should’ve made piña coladas rather than margaritas,” she joked.

      “Nah, ours is an eclectic beach. A little Hawaii, a little Mexico, a little California.” He pulled a Beach Boys CD out of his backpack and handed it to her. He’d borrowed it from his parents’ oldies collection.

      “Fun.”

      While she put it on, he spread the beach towel over the Oriental rug in front of the fire. Then he held his hand out to her, singing along with the sixties band, “Let’s go surfing now.”

      “You’ll have to teach me how.”

      He tugged her over to stand on the towel and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’ll be a natural.”

      “Oh, yeah?” She kinked an eyebrow.

      “As I recall, you have a great sense of rhythm.” He slid his hands down her back and eased her body close to his. The room grew ten degrees warmer.

      “Mmmm. I do remember a certain…pleasing…rhythm.” She drew the words out, voice low and sexy, and her stomach rested against his hard-on. “Tell me what I need to do.”

      Strip off your clothes and spread your legs. He swallowed hard. Yeah, Jude sure as hell fired him up, but hadn’t he promised himself he’d show a little finesse? “Bend your knees, feel the rhythm, ride the waves.”

      “I think I can do that.” Her hips gave a suggestive wriggle, increasing the pressure against him. “If you can create those waves, surfer boy, I’m happy to ride them.”

      Waves. The only waves he wanted to ride were those of a mutual orgasm.

      Damn, he’d figured on a picnic, a couple drinks, a slow seduction. Now all he wanted was to jump her bones. Now being the operative word.

      When his lips touched hers, he knew she felt the same way. There was nothing hesitant or slow about her kiss; she opened right up and welcomed him in. Mmmm, she tasted of lime, a hint of salt. Who needed a margarita? He could get drunk on this woman. His tongue swept her mouth, and hers met and matched it.

      She reached up, swiping her fingers through his thick hair and grabbing on to his head, holding him just where she wanted him as her tongue thrust into his mouth. As they kissed fiercely, he fumbled at the waist of her shorts, finding the button, unzipping the fly. He yanked them down and felt the silk of her skin, broken only by a small patch of fabric.

      He broke the kiss so he could pull her shirt over her head and then stepped back to take her in. Her bikini was skimpy and printed in a green and brown jungle pattern that made him think all sorts of primitive Tarzan thoughts.

      “You like?” She twirled to show him the rear view.

      Nick’s eyes bugged out at the sight of her firm, sweet ass. “A thong?” he choked out. “Oh, god, you wear a thong bikini?”

      Jude’s chuckle was throaty. “Only at our private beach. I bought it today. You wouldn’t believe the price of bathing suits in the middle of winter.”

      Price? She was talking about price? He could barely focus. Ninety-nine percent of the blood in his body filled his cock, and that Tarzan guy inside him wanted to beat his chest. She’d bought a СКАЧАТЬ