Page 3 of Infinite
It seems to take forever for him to reach my side, his steady features latching onto mine as if he barely knows me. From one long second to the next, he flings my door open and helps me out. I’m tall, almost as tall as the men in my family, but not as tall as Hale. I don’t quite have my feet planted when his hands slide along my hips, banding my waist at almost the exact moment his mouth brands my lips with white hot possession.
Men have eyed me since puberty and sought to touch me before I was ready. I never became used to the aggression and outran most of it. I’m not running now.
He pulls back, the force of the separation making me gasp. His gaze searches my eyes, trying to unlock the secrets I was always too afraid to share.
The mangrove branches stretch out, the moonlight cutting through to illuminate Hale in silver light. “Do you have any fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”
“No,” I stammer. “Are you—” I glance around when I hear a chirp, certain my racing heart has woken the nesting birds. “Are you going to do it again?”
“Hell, yeah,” he says, shutting the door to his Tahoe.
We laugh, the remaining tension evaporating in the cool breeze breaking through the trees. The shin-length weeds tickle my bare legs as we head forward, allowing the increasing lull of the ocean to guide us.
“I suppose I should watch out for snakes and such,” Hale mutters, holding me closer. “But I swear, I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
I lean into him, shielding my face to hide my embarrassment. I don’t usually come across as quiet or timid. Both will get me hurt and I’m done feeling pain. “There’s no need for pretty talk,” I say, smiling softly. “You have me right where you want me.”
“Not yet, darlin’,” he assures me.
I nibble on my bottom lip. His terms of endearment send my insides fluttering in all the right ways. Hale isn’t playing me. He’s trying each out as if deciding which one he likes best.
I take a breath, giving myself a moment to take him and our surroundings in. The mournful harmony of the ocean vocalizes signals summer’s end, but I no longer share its misery. All I sense is Hale.
As the tree line arcs, he eases us to the sand. We land on our knees somewhere between the shadows of the trees and the sea we’ve swum in all our lives. It’s symbolic, my feelings for him coming out of the dark to lie where the moon can cast its final judgement and where my reservations strip away, leaving me bare.
“Are you cold?” he asks, pulling me closer, his large hands skimming down my body and over my backside.
I pull my focus away from the small cresting waves ghosting over the sand. “Not with you here,” I admit.
He pulls me to him, his mouth parting as it slides over mine. This is only our third kiss and everything should feel new. But with the way our bodies meld and the natural rhythm we fall into, it feels like we’ve had a thousand lifetimes to perfect our kiss.
At first, it’s slow and cautious, reminiscent of our childhood and more innocence than I think I deserve. But as his tongue probes further, I’m reminded that young or not, Hale is all man. His hold and the growing press of his erection as he lays us on the sand allow me to leave all flickers of virtue behind.
I return his kiss like a desperate woman, fueling his need.
Hale frees me from my jacket, tugging my white T-shirt free of the waistband of my shorts and skimming his hand upward to play with my heavy breasts. He stops our kiss, his gaze locked on mine as he explores.
I pant, losing myself in his gaze while his fingers circle my tightening nipple.
I grunt when he pinches the taut center, my lashes fluttering with each of his greedy pulls. I suppose it’s his way of asking for permission to do more. I don’t deny him. Ican’t.
The pads of his fingers linger over my flat stomach, tickling my waist before freeing the top snap. He swallows hard. “Tell me to stop,” he practically begs.
I don’t recognize my voice. “I don’t want you to.”
His fingers clamp over the zipper, snagging it more than once before he’s able to guide his hand beneath my panties. His moves are leisurely, teasing, giving me time to move away.
My pelvis tilts upward, meeting the calloused edges of his skin. His fingers slick over my center, his swirls making me quiver.
“Jesus,” he rasps.
My back arches as he pushes further in until his palm presses against my tantalized flesh. He curls his fingers, stirring my sweet spot as he strokes in and out. The motions are careful, becoming rougher the more I moan.
Hale dips his head, trailing kisses down my neck until his hot mouth pulls my nipple through the lace.
“I’m going to come,” I whimper, as if he doesn’t already know. “Please, don’t stop.”
Grains of sand spray along my legs as I peak. My hands are frantic, desperate to touch Hale. I reach in through the front of Hale’s board shorts, gripping his thick, rigid staff.