Page 38 of Rootbound

“Right now?” He looks almost afraid, whichalmostendears me to him again.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll call it in at some point, though.” I reach out a hand while my other grips the ladder. I know I’m setting myself up again, but can’t seem to stop. He shakes it, nods, and predictably pulls me back into the water. As soon as he does, he swims a few feet away, giving me distance, it seems.

“So, environmental sciences, huh?” I say, needing to fill the silence once more.

“Yep. I stretched the truth, though. Never finished my degree. I was a few months shy.”

We circle each other now, moving around like magnets, an opposing force between us.

“What stopped you?” I ask, though I can tell he was hoping I wouldn’t, which disappoints me more than it should. He stills, regarding me with gold, hooded eyes again, visibly struggling with his next words. He tucks his bottom lip in and runs his tongue back and forth over it a few times before deciding. “Family drama.”

I laugh through my nose, humorless. What a perfectly vague response. I swim toward him and his eyes widen a fraction. I clench my jaw, knowing I’m probably hurting myself more than him in doing it, but still I let my chest graze his as I reach past him to grab onto the side of the ladder. I’m not prepared for the jolt of sensation that zaps through me at the contact, though. The workout top does little to shield the feeling of my nipples sliding over his warm chest. I manage to bite back a moan. Up close I can see his lashes, stuck together with water droplets. His lips are parted and glistening, softness surrounded by scruff. His mouth closes and a muscle ticks in his jaw, and I realize I’m staring.

I try to pull myself past his shoulder quickly, awkwardly careful to avoid further contact. But when I get my first foot on the rung of the ladder, his right hand closes over my left one, his other hand gripping my hip and flipping me around so I’m abruptly sitting on the top rung, him floating between my legs. We breathe like we raced here, his eyes wide and intense on mine for only a moment before they go to my mouth and he leans in.

“Tait,” he whispers.

“Yes?” I say, and the breathy tone makes my cheeks heat again.

“Can I—shit.” He shakes his head a little, but I’m already nodding mine. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, his voice a low rumble. And then he does.

It’s painfully sweet, him lightly tasting my bottom lip first, before moving to my top lip. I’m gripping the ladder to keep my hands from running through his hair and pulling him to me. He moves away slightly before he uses the ladder and my hip to pull himself closer through the water, up. His eyes slide up to mine before he kisses me again, this time without a hint of hesitation. I open for him, tongues gliding over each other greedily. He tastes like cookies and tequila and so, so good.

I nibble on his lower lip, and his gruff hum of approval makes me thrust my chest out to his, wanting to get closer, to melt and to fuse against him, but refusing to grab at him with my hands, keeping them wrapped firmly on the rungs of the ladder. He’s too big to get any closer this way, the sides of the ladder restricting how far I can part my legs to make room for him. But when he trails kisses down my jaw and neck, I lose a little of that control and scoot my butt off of the rung, legs floating further apart of theirown accord. When he runs his tongue along my collarbone, I sigh, letting my heels hook behind his bare thighs to pull him closer to me. I’m quickly dissolving into a mindless, needy thing. The boneless feeling of floating heightens every other sensation. I feel the rough hairs on the outsides of his thighs grazing the insides of mine, his thumb hooked around the front of my hip, his hand so large that I feel his other fingers pushing into my lower back. He’s moved over to the other side of my collarbone, beard scraping cruelly over the area he’d just soothed.

It’s too much, and not enough all at once. I give up, peeling one hand off the ladder to wrap around the back of his neck and into his hair. The motion throws off my balance and I react by trying to right myself using my legs, the action bringing his very, very naked hips to mine. His choked sound is drowned out by mine, the hardness of him giving me friction right where I need it most. He pulls back and looks at me, a combination of heat and shock in his eyes. I’m panting, heavy-lidded and too wound up to care or consider being embarrassed as I grind against him, our gazes still locked. A smile reaches my lips and I close my eyes, not wanting to see his intense stare, not wanting to come to my senses. I can’t remember the last time I dry humped someone. Is it still dry humping if you’re in water? I bite my lip to stifle a laugh and let my head fall back.

“Sexiest smile I’ve ever seen,” he says, and when I open my eyes I want to return the compliment.

His lips are swollen from kissing, his dimples maddening. But, he appears completely in control even as he stares. I want to make him as desperate as I feel, dipping momentarily into self-consciousness again. Before I can fully descend, though, he lays his palm across my chest, thumbbrushing the hollow of my throat reverently while he slips a large fingertip under the strap of my tank top, slowly pushing it down, down, down my arm.

Before I can second guess myself, I wrap one hand around the wrist on my chest, and grab his shoulder with my other. I think he must do some of the work for me, since he’s a behemoth and I likely couldn’t flip him around using my own strength alone, but I somehow manage to smoothly turn us and push him into the ladder. I float a few feet away and hook my thumbs under the straps of my top, sliding them off without hesitation. He gives up our eye contact to look his fill, color blooming on his cheeks and his jaw clenching with restraint. He licks his lips and reaches around in the water until he finds the back of one of my knees, then the other. He keeps my body suspended half out of the water as he drags me back to him, my arms floating slightly behind me, and I laugh thinking of those mermaids plastered to the fronts of ships.

He smiles back, but as soon as I’m within reach, he bends his head to pull my nipple into his mouth, and a moan-gasp flutters out of me. It’s not a slow or gentle lick; he sucks me and then keeps my peak wedged in an almost-bite, while he flicks his tongue back and forth. My hips grind shamelessly against him again, and I hazard reaching down between us to grasp him. “Of course,” I let slip out as I slide my hand up and down. Of course, he’s perfect… ly huge, and I shouldn’t be surprised by his size, but I am. He lets out a small chuckle that’s nothing short of knowing, male pride, then hisses around my nipple when I squeeze him. He lets me out of his mouth, planting a chaste kiss there before moving to my other. He flexes in my hand and I feel that familiar tugging, throbbing sensation start to build in me.Jesus. I haven’t been given an orgasm by anyone other than myself since Cole, and even then I normally take a lot more work and time. I’m so keyed up I can practically hear the buzz of my blood rushing.

And then I really do hear buzzing, plus the crunch of tires on gravel.

Henry releases my other nipple with a small pop, and looks up. One side of his hair is gorgeously mussed where I’ve been gripping. The look on his face is pure panic, though.

“Fuck, I’m so, so sorry,” he says, right before I see the beam from headlights shine on the dock and the side of his face, and right before he promptly launches me out into the pond.

Nineteen

Henry

The horror and acute shame I feel at having literally thrown a half-naked Tait away from me makes everything in me (and on me) instantly deflate. Thankfully, the pond beyond the light is pitch black, so although there are ripples, I doubt I’ll raise much suspicion when I exit and wrap the towel around me.

Charlie and Grace come around the corner as I’m walking up the dock, and I send up a prayer of thanks that I didn’t chance it after all.

“Hey guys,” I say, voice coming out a pitch higher than normal.

Grace quirks a brow at me. “Taking a dip?”

“Yeah, heatwave, you know.” I do a weird hand shrug and try to herd them to the house. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks. We figured Grady couldn’t drive and we’d grab him and take him off your hands,” Charlie says.

“I’ll go drag him to the truck. Night, Hen,” Grace adds.