Star-Crossed Lovers

He reached for her suddenly and pulled her toward him as her heel struck air at the end of the dock. She realized at that moment that he had reached out to prevent her from stepping backward into the lake.

Still, she wrestled to get away, but he pulled her against him, and as she continued to struggle, he countered her by holding her tightly against his chest, his arms all the way around her, creating a hot steel cage she had no hope of escaping.

She heard his low voice and felt his breath disturbing the curls above her temple. “Give it up, Jessi. Give it up. You can’t get away from me. I’ll hold you until you stop fighting me.”

It was another kind of emotion that gripped her then, shocking her, burning her from the inside. She stopped fighting him, but only because something powerful within her made his chest a lover’s cradle and his arms a haven.

So she gave up the struggle as she became aware of immense sensuality, hotter than the air and the sun, born of their bodies pressed together, the pressure of his solid arms and his hard chest, and gradually, from the part of him that was growing thick and heavy against her belly. Even when she stopped struggling, she did not so much relax as melt against him, against all of him, caught in arms that continued to hold her close. He was enormous against her, and she might have pulled away the lower part of her body because his arms were enfolded over her upper back.

But she didn’t.

She felt herself turning liquid down low, under her shorts, and her body moved beyond her conscious intent so that her back arched and her head went back. Next she felt his lips crushing hers, and then withdrawing as though he intended to stop, but they came back again and tasted, nibbled and brushed, and when she opened to him he came into her mouth with his tongue, owning her mouth, taking as he explored, commanding with practiced tenderness.