She changed into her pink bathing suit, the black one still damp from yesterday, scooped up a bottle of SPF 30, slid her digital reader into a Ziploc bag to protect it from sand and grabbed a towel and a beach blanket. With painful steps she made her way across the yard, through the poplar trees and shrubs, and onto the beach.
She spread the blanket and sat, her thigh muscles crying out as she lowered herself. She picked up the sunscreen. She wouldn’t be able to do her back. Oh well. She’d just tan her front first. So she slathered up her front with sun protection, lay down, closed her eyes and breathed in the warm air. Some distant laughter and splashing and the hum of a boat out on the lake reached her ears. The sun warmed her face and relaxing heat seeped through her body. She sighed. Why had she not wanted to come up here again? She loved living in the city, loved restaurants and movies and concerts and shopping, hated leaving all that…but it was so nice here.
She might have dozed off a little, but awoke when a shadow covered her face. She cracked open one eye to see Tag sitting beside her on the blanket. “Hey,” she said. She tried to sit up, but gave up at the protest of her muscles and fell back down with a whimper. “You’re done golfing?”
“Yeah.”
“Who won?”
“Depends who you ask. Honestly, it was me. But it was close and I personally think all those other guys cheated.”
She laughed.
“Getting some sun, I see,” he said, and the husky tone of his voice prompted her to open her eyes again. He was wearing sunglasses, but she could feel his gaze on her, studying her from head to toe. Her nipples tingled and tightened in the thin cups of her suit and her stomach did a little flip.
“Yes. Actually, I could use some help putting sunscreen on my back.”
“I’m your man.”
She went to roll over but stopped with a groan. “Oh god.”
“What’s wrong? Are you sick again?”
“I was never sick,” she said crossly. “I just have a few sore muscles today.”
“From that little bit of skiing? Mac, honey, you clearly need to work out.”
“Thanks so much.”
“I don’t mean you look like you need to work out. You look…” He paused and cleared his throat. “You look freakin’ amazing. But don’t you go to a gym or something?”
“I haven’t for a while.” She pushed herself slowly over onto her stomach, painful knives stabbing into her muscles. “Too busy.”
“No wonder you’re so stressed. Exercise is the best way to deal with that.” A cold squirt of liquid landed on her back and she twitched. Then he started rubbing it in with slow, sensual strokes. “Seriously.”
“I know, but I’m busy. Some day I’ll have time for that.”
Some day. It seemed like a lot of her life was going to start “some day”―the day she made partner. Tag’s hands moved up and down her back, pressing into sore muscles.
“Oh my god,” she moaned.
“Feel good?”
“Mmmm.” He kneaded her sore shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the hollows beneath her shoulder blades, his palms sliding with firm pressure down the ridges of muscles along her spine. “You’re good at that.”
“I’ve had a few massages,” he said, sounding amused. “I may have picked up a few things.”
“Oh yeah.”
He kept massaging until she felt like she’d melted into a puddle of that sunscreen on the blanket.
“Where else is sore?”
“My…uh…thighs.”
“Oh yeah. Skiing’s hard on your abductors.”
“Whatever.”
His hands moved lower and began rubbing the backs of her legs, pushing her legs apart a little in a gesture that had her pussy aching and her entire body tingling. His touch was firm but gentle enough that he didn’t hurt her sore muscles too much. Then his fingers slid up under the edge of her bikini bottom onto her ass. She jerked.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just making you feel good.”
Oh, was he ever. She drifted on a cloud of sensual bliss at his expert touch until his fingers slid between her legs again. Oh hell, she wanted more there, wanted him to touch her where she needed it, where she ached. A tiny moan escaped her and she swore she could feel his smile. Then he bent over her and kissed her shoulder, a soft, open-mouthed kiss that had another slow wave of lust rolling through her. God.
“You’re killing me,” she groaned.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“Ah. Maybe you need your front done now.”
“I did the front already.”
“Well, the UV factor is high today. You should do it again.” And he gently flipped her over like she was a doll. She gazed up at him with heavy eyes. He squirted a line of lotion on her chest, tossed the bottle aside and started rubbing there.
“Jesus Christ!” She jolted. “Oh my god, my pecs! That hurts.”
“Sorry.” He smiled and gentled his touch, but kept kneading the tender muscles. “You need to do some pushups.”
“I can’t do pushups.”
His smile deepened, and his fingers slid lower, down between her breasts over the soft flesh there. Her breath stuck in her throat and heat swept over her from her toes to her hairline.
His fingers paused. “This is crazy,” he muttered. “Holy shit, Kyla.”
“What?”
“I should never have put my hands on your body. Now I…” With his fingertips he gently massaged her breasts, right to the edge of the little cups, then just inside them…so close. Her nipples stood at attention, hard and aching, but he didn’t touch them, just massaged so slowly and carefully. She groaned again, her entire body tingling and alert. So much for the relaxing part.
“What?” she whispered again.
“I want to touch you everywhere.”
“Oh.” She wanted that too. She ached for that too.
He moved to her stomach, rubbing gently, then slipped his fingers just inside the top of her bikini bottom. “Tag,” she breathed. His fingertips brushed against the triangle of hair she kept there and she gasped.
“I wondered what you had under your little bottoms,” he said, voice gruff.
“Oh god, Tag.” Warmth unfurled inside her and her heart thudded in her chest. And then his fingers slid lower, over the fabric of her swimsuit between her legs, rubbing over her sensitive skin. “Oh dear god.”
“Are you wet, Kyla?” he murmured. “You sound like you’re getting turned-on.”
She whimpered. He cupped her pussy, so gently, then rubbed, and then his fingers slipped beneath her bikini bottom. Oh sweet Jesus, what was he doing? But all she could think was more, more, more. His fingers slipped over her slick folds. Yes. She was wet. She squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks flaming. “You shouldn’t…” she tried to say. “Someone might…”
“I’m watching. No one’s coming. Except maybe you…”
“Oh my god.” Her thighs fell apart to allow him access and his big fingers played over plump flesh, sending pleasure tingling through her veins. “You can’t…”
He bent over her, fingers still between her legs, brushing over her clit, and he kissed her mouth, his head blocking the sun. “Kyla.” His mouth opened on hers, his tongue licked her bottom lip. Oh god, oh god, pleasure hummed and buzzed where his fingers touched her, and heat slid over her body from his kiss. She lifted her arms to reach for him and dug her fingers into his shoulders.