Page 54 of Rough and Rugged
Back and forth the water-laden trunk spins.
As my legs begin to burn again, I hyperfocus on the soaked log beneath my feet.
“Are you done yet?” Ellis calls, sounding bored, like he isn’t exerting an ounce of energy.
The tension only spurs me onward, forcing me to dance side-to-side, like I’m an Irish clog dancer.
“You’re going down, big boy,” I holler.
A deep chuckle drifts to my end of the log, but I don’t glance up; instead, watching his feet expertly rotate the lumber beneath our feet.
“There’s only one way I’m going down on you.”
The sexual innuendo has me snapping up my head to gape at him, my eyes wide, shock smacking me in the face. The last time someone did that I—
With a heavy thud, I hit the lake again, smacking my side against the water this time with a sharp splat. Before I can surface, two hands catch me and lift me above the waterline. Without thinking, I grab his shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist.
“Now are you done?” He smirks. And I’m aware his large palms are cupping the backs of my thighs.
“That was so fun,” I cry out, tipping back my head and laughing, the sound almost foreign to my ears. I’m cackling at the sun like I haven’t laughed in a long time. A truth that hits a little too close to home.
Whenwasthe last time I chortled like a loon?
When I look at Ellis, he’s smiling wide, white teeth gleaming. His dark eyes match the glistening trunk nearby. He twists, like he intends to float on his back, stretching out one arm while keeping his other hand on the back of my thigh. Suddenly, I’m straddling him, like he’s a buoyant log, and I’m hitching a ride back to shore.
Between my legs is evidence of what I tried to ignore while Ellis stood tall and strong, opposite me, in his soaked clothing, showing off every dip and ripple, and solidpieceof his body.
Trying to ignore it is like pretending a rattlesnake isn’t at your ankle, seconds from a deadly bite. Ellis is long, thick, and firm against my core.
I shift, the fiction against a sensitive spot suddenly like a live wire in water.Zap!
Ellis hisses, squeezing my thigh harder. “Don’t move,” he grits.
My brother is standing on the edge, laughing his head off, while holding a beer in one hand. A rather thin looking towel drapes over his shoulder. As we reach the ledge of the lake, a drop off without a proper beach, Grant holds out his hand to help me up while Ellis gives me a strong shove, almost flinging me out of the water. I collide with Grant, knocking his beer which spills on me, adding to my discomfort in my ruined clothes.
Stepping back, I want to snap at my brother, but Ellis stands behind me, sandwiching me in between both men. He reaches for the towel over my brother’s shoulders and tugs it free. I spin to face him, forcing my brother to step back.
“Hey, I need that.” I cross my arms over my wet shirt. Ellis’s gaze drops to my chest before he quickly looks away, finding something once again off in the distance that fascinates him like he did when he first saw me earlier.
I’m still a little kid to him. Perpetually Grant’s younger sister.
“I need it more.” His voice is rough, strained even, as he wraps the thin material around his waist, covering his soaked shorts. The dark color is more protective than the sheer whiteness of my blouse but what he’s actually covering is more apparent.
Ellis Duncan has a boner.
Did I do that to him? My head snaps up, hoping to meet his eyes, only he still isn’t looking at me. Instead, he expertly twists the towel at his waist and then reaches behind his neck for the collar of his tee and tugs it forward.
Good God, is there any move sexier?
And is there any man sexier than him?
My heart stops. My pulse races. If I weren’t already soaked through to my skin, I’d be wet between my thighs.
Ellis Duncan is a chiseled god of a man, with subtle hills and valleys of muscle accentuated by the rivers of water streaming over his tan skin.
And now he’s standing shirtless, in what appears to be only a towel, like he’s fresh from a swim . . . or a shower.
Squeezing my thighs together, I pray I don’t combust in front of him because I’m enflamed and desperate to run my hands along his abs, and my mouth along his pert nipples, erect from the cold water and matching the peaks of mine. I could carve my name in his skin with how tight my nips are and how heavy my breasts suddenly feel while I admire him.