I tried to pull away, but it was too late. He hoisted me up and over his shoulder, pulling my boots off my flailing feet as I laughed and squealed, pounding my baby fists on his muscular back. He smacked my butt playfully, stepping carefully out of his own boots while balancing me on his shoulder, and then he went tearing into the river.
He was a bit unsteady on the rocks and once the water hit his waist, he tumbled forward and we both went under. It was a shock to my system, the water so icy cold I couldn’t think, couldn’t process. The laughter was gone and my entire body was on fire. We both popped out and my breath finally came back just as Anderson tossed his head back with a loud laugh.
“You brat!” I swatted his arm playfully, wiping my drenched hair away from my face. “It’s freezing!”
“Is it? I didn’t notice,” he teased, eyes on where my nipples were showing exactly how cold it was through my light sweater. I feigned offense, hand going up to whack him once again but I moved too quickly, losing my balance. I stumbled back, not finding grip, and before I could register it, the current took my feet right from under me.
My body dipped fast, the rush of the water strong and relentless. For a split second I panicked, but Anderson’s hand was around my wrist almost as soon as I fell, and he tugged me back, pulling me into his chest. I clung to his soaked sweater, fisting my hands in it, eyes trailing slowly over the muscles of his arms, his chest, until I was gazing up at his cobalt blue eyes.
“I’ve got you,” he said, voice low, arms tight around me. And he did. He had me. In more ways than he knew.
We were both shivering as Anderson guided us out of the water, our clothes sticking to every inch of us. He grabbed his boots as I bent to pick up mine, and then he grinned at me over his shoulder.
“Race you to the hot tub!”
He didn’t even wait for me to acknowledge the challenge before he was in a full sprint—well, as much as he could be while trying not to break an ankle on a rock, anyway. I laughed, watching him peel the sweater I bought him off his back as he jogged up the trail.
And then I was pissed.
That was supposed to be my job, dammit.
So. Fucking. Cold.
The little stunt I’d pulled down by the river with Wren didn’t seem near as cute now that my balls were tucking up inside of themselves. I tossed my sweater over the railing of Wren’s back porch as soon as I reached it, but when my hands moved for my jeans next, I heard Wren scream from behind me.
“Wait!” She was teetering up the last bit of the trail, watching her toes as they maneuvered the rocks. “Don’t move,” she said again.
I bounced, shivering, the sun finally dipping away and leaving absolutely none of its warmth to help our situation. It had already been a chilly day, and I knew the night would only get colder.
When Wren finally reached the porch, she dropped her boots on the wood and swiped my sweater off the railing, thrusting it toward me. She was shivering, too, teeth chattering, lips plump and purple and begging to be kissed. “Put this back on.”
“Bu—” I stopped my rebuttal short when she narrowed her eyes, fighting back a laugh as she tossed the sweater into my chest.
I was still bouncing, absolutely freezing my ass off, but I humored her, pulling the soaked sweater over my arms and head before letting it fall at my waist.
Wren licked her lips then, stepping into me and sliding her ice cold hands under the sweater to rest on my abdomen. She used her wrists to push it up just a little, eyes on the view she was unveiling.
“Ever since you stepped onto my porch wearing this, I’ve been thinking about stripping it off you,” she said, pulling it up farther.
I reached for the back of the neck, helping her until the sweater was off again. She let it drop to the porch, stepping back just a bit and raking her eyes over me with appreciation.
“Yep. Just like I’d imagined. Well,” she added. “A little wetter, but no complaints here.”
I laughed, and even though my skin was bright red from the biting cold, my mind was on a new track of how to find the heat it craved, now.
Wren was still eye fucking me when I reached for her, throwing her over my shoulder just like I had before. This time she just laughed as I pushed us through her back door, not even bothering to close it behind us as I dropped her to the couch. Her long wet hair fanned out around her and I fell down on top, arms braced on either side of her as I dipped to kiss her neck, sucking the river water from her skin.
She moaned, arching into me, and I took the opportunity to slide one hand down over her breasts, ribs, her tight stomach until I reached the button on her jeans. It was still slick and I fumbled with it, finally catching friction and flicking it open. I dragged the zipper down next, her lip caught between my teeth, breaths hot and needy.
She lifted her hips, sliding her jeans down to her knees before I had to push back to let her kick them the rest of the way off. I watched her, skin still wet, pale skin covered in chills as I stood and made quick work of my own jeans.
I’d been smart enough to take my wallet out before we jumped in the river, and I swiped it off the porch where I’d dropped it by my boots. Wren was reaching for her thin sweater by the time I’d made it back to where she laid on the couch, but she stopped short as I ripped the condom package open and rolled it on, positioning myself between her thighs and pushing inside her in one fluid motion.
She screamed, back arching high off the couch, chills escalating as her hands reached to grip the sofa, sweater long forgotten. My hands reached for it, but not to pull it off. I wrapped my fists in the wet fabric, twisting it and pulling to elevate her up just slightly. Every tug pulled her neckline down farther, and I pushed in deeper, Wren’s hands flying from the couch to my arms to her hair and back again.
Every time I got to touch her, I asked myself what the hell I’d ever done to be so fortunate. Wren was the kind of woman who only deserved to be touched by a man who was worthy of her. I wasn’t convinced such a man existed, and I damn sure knew I wasn’t him. But she wanted me, she craved me, too. So I thanked her with my mouth, my hands, my heart.
“Fuck,” I moaned, dragging the word out as I slowed my pace, pulling all the way out just to watch myself slide deep inside her again.
My hands loosened their grip on the bottom of her sweater and I moved to the top, pulling the neck down until both of her bare breasts popped out. I groaned in appreciation of her not wearing a bra, rubbing the pad of my thumbs over her nipples as I slowed my pace, grinding into her with more depth.
She felt so good, wet and tight, and I flipped us quickly until she was straddling me. She braced her hands on the back of the couch behind me, knees on either side of my thighs, and then she lifted her hips, gliding back down with a pace so slow I could have cried. I let my head fall back, eyes closing, hands gripping her hips hard as she repeated the motion.