He tugged to pull her onto him. Except at that moment she resisted, kicked her legs, and lunged away from him, laughing. She charged toward the far end of the pool.
Nothing to do but follow. He chuckled, amazed she thought she could outswim him. Not a chance.
Diving in, long deliberate strokes pulled him ever closer to her. She climbed the ladder before he reached her, but he arrived in time to nab her leg. She tried to shake him off, swinging her hair and shrieking between the laughter.
But he wasn’t the least bit worried. He simply wrapped his arm around her slim thighs and pulled her back. She toppled into the water, submerged for a moment before he tugged her up. With her back against his stomach, he nipped her damp neck. “Thought you’d get away, did you?”
“Yes,” she confessed, her smile as wide open as her eyes.
He palmed her bosom and sucked on her neck. She leaned to give him better access, and he feasted there as he massaged her pillow-soft breasts. When she moaned, a blast of testosterone shot right to his groin.
“I want you. Now,” he growled.
“Not in the water.”
“Out then.”
She scrambled up the ladder. He was slower getting out, favoring his foot as he did so, but no less eager. He’d pay for all this activity tomorrow, but no matter.
She bounced on the cushioned lounge chair, hugging the plush towel that, a moment ago, had lain across it, a remnant from an earlier dip.
He jerked the towel from her grasp. “My job.”
He sat at the end of the lounge and rubbed the towel over her feet before bending and placing a single kiss on each perfectly manicured, pink-polished toe.
Then he patted the soft cloth along her calves amid her sighs as she stretched out. He found the thin line of hair that marked the spot. He took his time caressing that most private area, rubbing lush fabric against her sensitive parts.
She shifted, squirmed. “You’re torturing me,” she sighed.
“And you love it. You always did.”
She raised her arms up and tucked them under her head as if in surrender. He stretched to wipe the droplets from her abdomen, then covered her breasts with the terry cloth and suckled the hard nipples through the towel.
“I’m so ready, Chance.”
He chuckled at her eagerness. “On your belly, woman.”
“No. This time, Chance, I want you on your back.”
*
Chance’s arms and body along with the luxuriously plush towel he’d rubbed all over her formed a heated cocoon around Libby. Despite her damp skin and the coolness of the night air, she was warm.
She loved cuddling against him as he slept, his broad, bare chest rising and falling in measured breaths. This felt so right, where she should be, where she was meant to be. If only Chance felt the same way.
He’d have to forgive her for that to happen. And trust her again.
Despite great sex and even better everything else, he’d given no indication he wanted anything beyond the moment.
And then there was her father to consider. He’d called every day since he left to make sure she was okay. She’d noted the worry in his voice, but she wasn’t sure if it was about her or the business, or both.
She’d studied the folder of ad campaigns he’d left behind, which were boring at best, as well as the figures on the Casper dealership he’d included. She’d e-mailed her suggestions on the ad campaign, which included more emphasis on service and an idea for comparing cars to horses that she thought might appeal to the Wyoming buyer. As for the business, clearly there was too much invested in inventory, considering the sales rate. She’d called Doug in hopes they could move the cars around, but they were already doing that. She feared it meant closing one of the venues.
She’d enjoyed doing this behind-the-scene work for her father. But not enough to make a career of it. If only she could stay here with Chance, make a life with him on this ranch, and work at the stock show. If only she could break down the barriers he’d set up to keep her at bay.
She heard a sound. A rustle. A footfall. Her heart pounded.
“Chance,” she whispered as she pushed against his shoulder. “Wake up. Someone is out there.”
“What?” His head lifted off the pillow, and he was awake in a heartbeat, his body ready and poised for action. He guided her behind him, shielding her. “Who’s there?”
“Don’t shoot. It’s Lonnie.”
She could feel the tension in Chance’s body ease for a second before he tensed again as he realized the situation. They were both still naked.
“Go back around to the front, man.” But as the words left his lips, Lonnie appeared, walking toward them both, eyes squinted.
Instinctively, Libby pulled the towel over her body—and away from Chance’s. He met his friend bare-assed naked—in all his glory.
“Whoa,” Lonnie said, hands going up as if they could shield him from the sight. “Sorry.” He pivoted around, his back to them both. “I saw the light, thought you might be taking a late-night swim, Chance. Was thinking of joining you. Thinking better of it now.”