Hearing a noise behind me, I turned as Jack let the enclosure gate slam closed behind him and placed a bottle of shampoo on the small shelf inside the fence. “Dry towels and change of clothes just outside,” he announced and stepped closer, still only in his black shorts, placing his hands on my waist.
The water was hitting my back. He turned us and ducked his head under, letting the hot water wash the salt from his skin. Then he stepped out so we were both barely under the spray.
I leaned up to kiss him. I couldn’t help it. I kissed him softly, nipping at his lips, and then drew back.
He grinned.
It was so weird to think I could probably do that anytime I wanted now. Some moments I would look at him and just see my Jack who I could kiss whenever I wanted to. Others, it would be like a filter dropped, and I saw Jack Eversea, movie star, a person I shouldn’t even touch. It was an odd feeling.
He watched me curiously, his hands at my waist. Then he curled his fingers into my shirt and pulled up. “You should probably get the sand off your body.”
I hesitated then smiled shyly at him and raised my arms, letting him pull the wet fabric from my skin. It smacked the floor as it dropped, and I stood in my small black cotton bra. Nothing lacy and sexy like I would have been wearing if I’d planned this moment. His face was broody and flushed and his eyes roamed over me. His mouth grew tight.
“Hey,” I whispered. “I think since I’m sandy and all, I probably should take my pants off, too.” I laughed.
“I feel like a horny teenager,” Jack croaked.
I smiled and quickly undid my sopping cargoes and shimmied them off. I could just be wearing a black bikini, I told myself. But we both knew different. As soon as I was standing under the spray in my bra and panties, I was in Jack’s arms. We were right back to where we’d left off. The water cascading over us tasted sweet in comparison to the salt of sweat and seawater.
Jack groaned and his tongue stroked into my mouth, bringing my body up to a fever pitch of longing. His arms were wrapped around me, and it was a heady feeling to have my bare skin pressed against his. Feeling the hard press of his arousal made me ache deeply. But it was also an instant reminder that we’d made love before and were probably going to do it again. I was nervous. And still thrown by what he’d admitted to doing to Audrey.
I shuddered, trying to reconcile the beautiful transcendent moments we’d shared—moments in which I’d experienced Jack being so tender and passionate with me—with the animalistic coupling full of anger and humiliation I saw in my mind’s eye when I thought of him and Audrey together.
“Hey,” Jack eased back and looked at me. “What’s up?”
I hung my head, resting my forehead against his chest. I felt his heart thudding and heard the swallow of his throat.
He hesitated, and then wrapped his arms around my shoulders, kissing my wet hair. “We can take it slow, Keri Ann, I promise. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He swallowed loudly again. “Ever. But please talk to me. Please. You’re making me nervous.”
I nodded against his chest, not really knowing what to say.
He pulled away then, and grasping my shoulders, turned me around gently to face away from him. I looked quizzically back at him over my shoulder, but he was reaching for the shampoo. He squirted some into his hand, and lathered it, then reached his fingers up to my hair.
Oh, yes.
I acquiesced and dipped my head back.
The smell of the piney shampoo flowed around us, the source of Jack’s scent I remembered from when he was here last, uncovered. I was almost sad to know the mystery but closed my eyes with a barely suppressed moan as Jack’s fingers slid against my scalp, massaging the lather in. There was nothing sexual, but everything sensual about what he was doing. It was confusing but too exquisite to question. He gently massaged and worked the lather through to the ends, his hands then sliding the suds down the exposed skin of my shoulders and back. I felt a tug at my bra closure and tensed as it came loose. Jack, still behind me, slid the straps off my arms and tugged the wet material forward and off my body.
I froze.
“It’s ok, Keri Ann,” he whispered. Then he gently pulled me back into the spray, letting it rinse my hair and washing the suds down my body. I realized I had coarse sand on my breasts as the water washed it down my belly.
Jack’s tender, reverent ministrations seemingly without ulterior motive, were doing me in, melting my concerns away.
His hands never ventured around me. Instead, they slid down either side of my waist to my hips and tugged at my panties. My breathing stuttered, and an edgier warmth than that provided by the water sluicing over me, traveled languidly through me.